James Bondage
Rebooting Double Oh No 7 Franchise
By: Charles Giuliano - Nov 13, 2012
On a Monday, remarkably, the Beacon Cinema in Pittsfield was packed for the 7 PM, school/ work night screening of Skyfall.
James Bond is to film what Dolly Parton is to music.
Campy, overblown, fleshed out, guilty pleasure, pop, fun, iconic.
We don't know whether to laugh at or with them.
At 50, with the release of Skyfall, the 23rd film in the franchise, 007 is a national treasure and cash cow.
The Bond paradigm of a sardonic, sophisticated, devilishly handsome, cold blooded assassin “Licensed to Kill" British MI6 agent, was established by the Scottish actor, Sean Connery. He launched the series in 1962 with Dr. No ending his tenure six films later in 1971 with Diamonds Are Forever.
Adjusting for inflation in today’s dollars Thunderball grossed $508 million domestically with $444 million for Goldfinger. Connery, now 82, was 32 when he first starred as Bond, and 41 when his run ended.
Nobody wore a rug more effectively.
With twisted smirk, indellible accent, lightly ironic, comic touch, and come hither look the Bond girls somersaulted into Connery’s bed. Much to the consternation of M and the crew back at MI6 that kept him in the field stocked with killer gadgets fabricated by the inventive Q.
The arch villains extracted from the popular novels of Ian Fleming were cartoonish to be sure but endlessly entertaining. They were clever and brilliant sociopaths all undone by Bond saving the world for the Queen, Empire, and a signature dry martini.
Spanning five decades five Bonds would follow: The forgettable George Lazenby, the more enduring Roger Moore, the relatively brief Timothy Dalton, a pretty looking but lightweight and miscast, Pierce Bronson, and now a former working class, rugby playing, bloke in a tux, Daniel Craig.
The franchise had lost its fizz and was ripe for a paradigm shift and extreme makeover.
Craig leaped into Bond’s shoes in 2006 with the successful and stabilizing Casino Royale. At the ripe age of 36 Craig was already four years older than Connery’s first Bond. That was followed in 2008 by Quantum of Solace. Then Skyfall, which has earned $518.6 million so far, there are two other Bonds in the can with the next scheduled for October, 2014. The next and final Craig film is likely in 2016.
We will have to wait and find out if the senior citizen Bond of Craig croaks or is reincarnated with a fresh face and renewed energy. How will it be possible following the story line to revert back to a younger and more vital Bond? Will the franchise have painted itself into a corner? Or, after 25 Bond films, simply cash in and call it quits.
Shooting all three films at once was a shrewd strategy. Four years from now Craig will be a superannuated 48. But the Bond we will see on screen is frozen as a more credible 44. Or just three years older than Connery when he hung up his spurs.
On every level Craig’s Bond in Skyfall is feeling his age. In fact it’s a plot point. Not just for Bond, but the film also kills off M, the enduring Dame Judi Dench. Through closeups blown up on the big screen Dench looks more mummified than matronly.
Skyfall, which was shot on a $200 million budget, starts with a thrilling chase scene set in Istanbul. There are wonderful special effects including tag wrestling with motorcycles over tiled roof tops with Hagia Sophia as a background.
Bond is accompanied on this chase to retrieve the hard drive of a computer (it contains the identities of all MI6 undercover agents) by Eve (Naomi Harris). Back at headquarters she is connected to M who is operating the mission.
By now Bond is engaged in hand to hand combat on the top of a train. Gosh, where have we seen that before? Eve has a rifle and scope poised to take out the enemy but can’t get a clear shot.
“Take the shot” M orders. There is hesitation from Eve. “Take the shot” is repeated.
She missed. Bond drops over a bridge to water far below. We watch as he tumbles over a waterfall and drowns.
Roll the opening credits with Adele belting out an Oscar bound dirge over them.
Bond is dead, or so it seems, and the film staggers to a pause.
While well-directed by Sam Mendes, there are too many fits and starts in the film which, like the now aging, gasping for breath agent, runs out of gas.
We next find Bond as a drunken beach bum somewhere in the tropics.
In a bar scene there is a crowd cheering him on in a death defying bet. He has to down a glass of booze with a scorpion perched on his hand. To wild applause he completes the trick deftly flipping the scorpion on the bar and trapping it safely under the now empty glass.
This washed up alcoholic, suffering PTSD, knocking down tequila is a far cry from the classic cool of Connery’s “shaken not stirred” martinis. His Bond never seemed intoxicated while Craig is portrayed as a lush. Who, by the way, looks like shit in close-ups.
While M has written his obituary, closed the secret file, and sold off his private property (a later plot point) the disheveled Bond appears unannounced in her apartment reporting for duty.
She suggests that he start with a shower and must pass physical and mental tests.
All of which he fails. But, because M desperately needs the veteran in the field, he is activated.
The purloined hard drive has led to the outing of batches of agents.
Although hardly fit for service Bond is on the trail of the villain. But first there is a meeting with the new Q, a young and nerdy, computer geek (Ben Whishaw). By way of gadgets Bond is given a pistol calibrated to his hand (a plot point) and a small radio tracking device (another).
Less than impressively the new Q says “What were you expecting? An exploding pen? We don’t do that any more.”
What’s the fun of a Bond film without all those wonderful gadgets?
While well directed, shot and edited Skyfall is no better or worse than the current genre of action/ adventure films. There is that Bond branding, but the extreme makeover is so complete that there are few signifiers of the familiar. This is not your father or grandfather’s James Bond.
Like, where the heck are those heart thumping Bond girls? No Pussy Galore this time. There is Severine (Berenice Marlohe) poured into a lace evening gown who is killed off with impunity and little or no passion and chemistry. Craig needs Viagra to go along with Geritol.
The ship/ franchise is sinking until the entrance by one of the all time, total gonzo, villains, Javier Bardem as Silva. He is deliciously, recklessly over the top as a bleached, swishy, avenging angel and natural born killer. What fun.
His Silva was an agent betrayed by M and is now bent on taking her down along with all of MI6. Truth is he got a raw deal. You kind of feel for him particularly compared to the sang froid M. It was just astonishing and grim special effects when Silva pulls out the prosthesis in his mouth to reveal a ghoulish self; the result of pain and suffering inflicted indirectly by M.
Of course there are lots of spectacular fireworks and special effects as Skyfall grinds to a halt. M is dead. Long live M (Ralph Fiennes). Bond will live to fight another day.
Or two more times to be precise over the next four years. Then?