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With this film, you always get the feeling that the quality can't quite last, and the second half, while still perfectly enjoyable, gradually loses sight of its plot and characters to wander down the well-trodden path of outlandish action set-pieces for their own sake. High-tech hardware and expensive sets get blown to bits, designer cars and motor bikes screech and tumble and the series' first major use of CGI technology looks distinctly threadbare in comparison to other contemporary blockbusters. As so often happens with Bond films, plotlines become murky and confused and it gets difficult to know just who is doing what, to whom, and for what reason. Its all nicely done in the familiar manner, but just a bit of an anti-climax after the imagination shown before.
This first celebrity full lace human hair wigs between bond and his new female boss is one of the best written and acted in the entire series. In its own way, it crackles with the same tension as the Connery-Shaw confrontation in 'From Russia with Love' many years earlier. M's crack at Bond being a cold-war dinosaur is a clear goodbye to the attitudes of old, and Brosnan's cold, steely response finally shows us that his Bond will have authority and toughness underneath the polish.
Once we finally move into the main plot, a high stakes poker game to break an international terrorist supplier, the film really takes on its own life and becomes something genuinely new in the Bond catalogue. This begins early with a cracking dialogue exchange between Bond and his belatedly introduced leading lady Eva Green, playing a treasury official there to bankroll him.We see the aftermath of violence and the effect – both physical and mental – it has on those involved. No more one-line quips and tie-straightenings to end a killing here. This is raw, compelling stuff, clearly designed to bring out the best of Craig's qualities. The film proceeds from this point to follow Fleming's novel fairly closely, including the famous torture scene involving a naked Bond, a bottomless chair and some fairly nasty weights. My word – its all a far cry from 'Octopussy'.
The first half of this testosterone-loaded entry in the long Bond catalogue is sprightly and at times even surprising stuff. Imprisoned, tortured and only reluctantly traded back by his bosses, it's a long time before the familiar sleek, debonair master-spy emerges from the wreckage. You can't help but wonder what Roger Moore would have made of it all.
What made them do it? The answer is probably the unexpected success of that other celebrity lace front wigs, Robert Ludlum's amnesiac spy whose two recent films, with their gritty action sequences, complex plots and in-your-face filmic styles have successfully redefined the spy genre in the 21st Century. Compared to them, Bond looked a bit like yesterday's man, and even though the series didn't desperately need rescuing, the producers probably felt that the acquisition of Fleming's original story presented a good opportunity to modernise their ageing spy franchise by essentially going back to square one.
With so many reputed thesps on board (Sophie Marceau, Robert Carlyle, Judi Dench) the pressure must have been on the screenwriters to supply acting material beyond the normal Bond range. The hiring of director Michael Apted – a man with a long track record in character-driven drama – compounds this change in emphasis. The result is a very mixed bag. Apted is good with actors and revels in the more character-driven moments, but he has no particular flair for action sequences and as a consequence the film too often lacks pace and excitement. More serious students of Bond will welcome the added character development, in which the villains in-particular are far more complex and beguiling than usual. The down side however is that the plot – to do with oil pipeline shenanigans around the Caspian sea – is tedious and laboured and some of the set pieces have a mechanical, formulaic air not seen since the comic-book days of Roger Moore.
Through all this Brosnan's Bond glides confidently. Always happy to flex his own acting muscles, he must have welcomed his opportunities with Marceau and Dench, while still being equally at home with more quintessential Bond elements like the double entedre or one-line quip. On the receiving end of most of these is Denise Richards, a throwback to the old Bond school of scantily-clad, curvaceous bombshells, ridiculously masquerading as a nuclear physicist to give her some post-feminist cred (yeah, right).
Craig's casting caused a bit of an outcry – average sized, stocky, with a rugged, boxers face and – most of all – blonde hair! A blonde Bond – what an outrage! Hate-filled websites were set up, for gods sake! But you know what? – its worked. Craig not only convinces, he triumphs. If the producers don't lose their nerve in subsequent films, he could end up being one of the best Bonds ever.
