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The V Calls Casino Royale's Bluff
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seconddimension.net
The V isn't a nasty person. He tries to be righteous. But every once in a while a film comes along that rubs him up the wrong way. This year, it is Casino Royale, surprise heir to the throne of Worst Bond Film Ever.
Aside from the 12A rating the film carries, the second thing that will concern the viewer is the first set-piece after the rather mundane opening credits. For a Bond film with the agenda of “toughening up” and “stripping it down”, this first scene – a cat-and-mouse-chase across a building site - comes as a terrifying warning to those expecting excitement and even basic logic as we see Bond drive a Bulldozer, without tactical purpose, into the site in order to capture a most agile of adversaries. What shocks further is the shape- shifting will of the by-standing builders themselves, some of whom seem intent on punishing the villain, with unknown motives - leading to bullets in the chest -and some of whom seem unawares to his villainy, leaving the audience to paint some sort of back-story themselves.
The point-and-shoot direction of Goldeneye helmer Martin Campbell proves that with a good script (Goldeneye) an average director can make a good film, but with a flat, barely visible script (Casino Royale) an average director can only make a bad film. The banter between Bond and original femme fatale Vesper Lynd speaks volumes for the shocking misstep taken by writer Paul Haggis, and the more expected misstep taken by The World is Not Enough and Die Another Day writers Neal Purvis and Robert Wade. Daniel Craig, therefore, only manages to impress with his physique in the film, lacking the adequate substance to confirm him as the rightful successor to Brosnan in anything but appearance. What impresses even less is his lack of participation in the action scenes, with obvious digital manipulation and shamefully exposed stunt-doubles covering anything that isn't a blue-screened vehicle or filmed from the waist up.
The film’s faithfulness to the original novel comes only an hour into the film with the ultimate scene of the book, the gambling table duel, taking up around thirty minutes; an ample time-frame were the scene not robbed of tension and weight by the lack of suitable art-direction. The less glamorous approach to the iconography is understandable but the scenery is so blandly painted that scenes feel lifeless and severely manufactured. This lack of authenticity carries over into the fore-mentioned action scenes too, with Bond seeming only average in his abilities rather the stone-cold double-o agent he has apparently become. Bond’s presence at crime scenes and on internet news-pages adds further to the disbelief, with the ridiculous portrait of the tragic Vesper/Bond romance (characterised by a tuxedo scene worthy only of a romantic comedy) the icing on the most tasteless of cakes. It's worth also mentioning a wholly distracting penchant for product placement in Casino Royale, one that sees Bond verbally acknowelgde his watch's brand between ridiculous extended takes of Sony Ericsson mobile phones. The film may well be intended to be back-to-basics for Bond, but no-one said it had to feel this cheap.
The V isn’t a nasty person. He tries to be righteous. But this isn’t the film he was promised. This is James Bond as directed by a house-wife, with her 12 year-old son directing the action. Uninspired, unsuccessful and as much of a franchise-killing blow as this critic has witnessed.
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