1115.org

Like most male Americans, James Bond has been part of my life almost from the beginning. My dad used to take me to see each new release while catching me up on the ones that came out before I was born. I came of age at an odd time in the franchise, Sean Connery was out, and Roger Moore was a slick but not completely age-appropriate replacement. Nevertheless, there was still anticipation with the announcement of a new movie every other year or so. I remember distinctly when it was time for old Roger to retire, and everyone was hoping that smooth mellow-fellow Remington Steele a.k.a. Pierce Brosnan would take over the franchise and make it whole again. I don’t remember what derailed the deal, (TV contract?) but between cold fish Timothy Dalton and some more lackluster scripts, Bond was becoming a relic of childhood.

After a few Dalton efforts, the Bond-holders finally reeled in Brosnan, but hunger isn’t always the best sauce (nullus?), and he (and the horrific scripts to which he was forced to give voice) just never brought me back to what I liked about Bond in the first place. Brosnan’s outings went from bad to worse before falling completely off the table in Die Another Day which is arguably the worst of all time. Bond went from a special franchise that had elements of violence, spy gadgets, corny punchlines and interesting capers to a caricature of itself. Facets of the formula were super-sized, blowing the whole mix into something not far from Mike Myers‘ annoying parodies.

After 20 official Bond films, walking away wasn’t much of an option for the producers, but neither was a continuation of the mocking they were taking from fan and critic alike. For months, speculation as to which actor would wear the tux was everywhere. I even allowed myself a bit of optimism as the early favorite seemed to be Clive Owen, a man as perfect to play Bond as Brosnan was in ‘87. Owen has long been one of my favorites, due in no small part to a pair of dark and gritty British films Croupier and I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead. Unfortunately negotiations hit the rocks, reportedly over Owen’s ability to play other spy-type characters during the run of his Bond contract.

As talk turned to actors like Orlando Bloom, Hugh Jackman, and Jude Law, I resigned myself to the probability that I’d seen the last of 007. But just as it seemed there was no hope, in stepped Craig, Daniel Craig. I was only familiar with Craig from his work as the unnamed lead character in Layer Cake, a British gangster film based on the first rate book of the same name by J.J. Connolly.

(Craig, in a scene from Layer Cake, seemingly auditioning for the role he now owns.)

Though just a mid-level drug dealer, Craig’s character in Layer Cake is forced to fight those above and below him in the food chain, and does so with an understated flair that Brosnan just couldn’t pull off. So, when Craig was announced as the next Bond and everyone who had ever seen a Bond film was up in arms (”I’ve never heard of this guy,” “He’s blonde for Christ’s sake,” etc) I never had any doubt. And when the producers emphasized a back to the basics approach for Casino Royale, I started counting the days.

Due to the fact that none of the pushy PR companies who relentlessly try to get me to pimp their products here had any involvement with Royale, it was only upon the official opening yesterday that I finally got to see their latest effort. Was it worth it? Oh yeah.

Craig owns the role. Not the one played by any one of his predecessors, but the role of James Bond. Gone are the increasingly annoying visits to Q’s candy store, as are almost all of the double entendres that reached their depths in The World is Not Enough (”I thought Christmas only comes once a year.”) No one gets cut apart by a laser, exploded in a pressure tank, or dropped out of a blimp. In place of these now-comic set pieces is a real movie, complete with acting, a developed story, and characters who manage to avoid becoming cartoons. In place of Denise Richards and Halle Berry whose only job it seemed was to fill out a tank top, Eva Green’s Vesper Lynd is an integral part of the movie, and in more than two dimensions. The chase scenes and even the fighting is more Bond than True Lies or Commando.

I’ve long said that none of the Bond films of the past 10 years could have stood on their own without the legendary franchise propping them up. Casino Royale manages to transcend its pedigree by going for subtle in a time when obvious rules. Check out the reviews at Variety and SF Gate. Don’t miss it.