Well, this has been a long time coming. Six years, to be precise, but here we are. The granddaddy of franchises, James Bond, returns to cinemas. Billed as Daniel Craigâs final outing as the character, the build-up was palpable in many of the trades. All the speculation can be put to rest as this is both the most fitting end to this iteration as well as Craig himself. So, grab your martinis and strap in. Or in my case, Ricard and Limoncello LaCroix. Please, no judgments.
As I sip and ponder the past of this series, one thing that hasnât been becomes apparent: consistency. Not just in the fact that actors change regularly but complete continuity gets jumbled frequently. From âCasino Royaleâ onward, this current group has a continuing arc. We are even treated to references like Vesper Lynd and the events of âSpectre.â
But I am getting ahead of myself. In fact this is the longest cold open to a Bond film ever, clocking in at just 20 minutes. To begin with, we are treated to a bait and switch of sorts. A flashback that reveals to be Madeline Swanâs backstory, which will be key to how the rest of the film unfolds. Having met her in the previous film, it would be good to watch that again. We get a deeper understanding where she has been and how it will affect the plot going forward.
In many ways, this isnât even Bondâs story completely. A wealth of protagonists and villains grace the screen over the course of one hundred and sixty-three minutes. Many would see this as a fault but it really adds volumes to Craigâs charisma. One of my favorite sequences involves him with a women named Paloma in Cuba. She is only on screen for a short time, but their interactions leave lasting impressions. Not a small feat given that actress Ana de Armas and Craig worked so well off each other in âKnives Outâ two years ago.
We are pulled back into the fray when good friend Felix Leiter (Jeffery Wright) calls in a favor to a retired Bond. This brings us into Cuba as well as introduces Nomi, the latest to don the Double-O Seven code number. Much bristling has been bandied about this but, much like the film as a whole, this is a welcome change. So much of this current run of films feels less beholden to the Bond of yore while also strangely paying more tribute to the books.
I grew up reading Ian Flemingâs work, and almost none of the films live up to his imagination. The bloated excess of the later Sixties and Seventies was such an extreme departure. Nothing rankles me more than to watch âThe Spy Who Loved Meâ after knowing the very unique way the book told its story. An outside perspective on Bond that we find somewhat in this film is refreshing and downright vital. It is sad that we will never see Craig revive Flemingâs original stories the way he did in âCasino Royale.â
One area that needed a bit more improvement was in his nemesis. Rami Malek, a truly capable actor, feels short-shrift here. Where everyone gets moments to shine, we donât even meet him until halfway through. And Craig and he donât even interact until the end. Only enough time is given to allow for the curtain pull and for him to softly menace, a small slight in an otherwise good film.
Director Cary Fukunaga has gone on record as saying he is afraid that his contributions will damage his reputation in Hollywood. That this is too much of a departure for older fans. But having seen it, I feel he has nothing to worry about. And as the strains of Louis Armstrong come on during the credits, the ties to this franchise are secure. Not many Bond movies will bring tears to your eyes. And this reviewer will return as well. Happy viewing, Readers!
