These niggles would be less frustrating if it weren’t for the good work done elsewhere. And while it’s nice to have a Bond villain lair back in the frame, our brief detour to Oberhauser’s HQ is a pointless interlude that proves irrelevant to everything that follows.
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Monica Belluci’s “older” woman (actually a similar age to our hero), meanwhile, is treated as even more disposable than the young sex objects once met by Moore’s womaniser. Yes, it’s good to have a serious debate about the 00-section’s relevance and accountability in the 21st century, but wasn’t Raiph Fiennes’ Mallory, now the staunch defender of the licence-to-kill branch, arguing just the same thing a few hours ago? Lea Seydoux’s Madeleine Swan is a forceful, independent character, who appears to come to her senses halfway through the film, but swiftly reverts to a damsel in distress for the sake of it. Such inconsistencies plague almost every inch of the film. Craig’s Bond is good at grim gags, threatening witticisms and blunt punchlines – something demonstrated by a deadpan couch joke in the prologue, not to mention his use of the word “stay” – but he’s uncomfortable here, having to recite silly one-liners like its the 1970s. There’s an understandable yearning to take Bond back to his heyday, but the writers – John Logan, Neal Purvis, Robert Wade and Jez Butterworth – have mistaken that heyday for 007’s Roger More era. Despite the cast’s best efforts, you can’t shake the feeling that the script has no idea what it wants to be. But there’s no evidence to back it up and his credentials become even more dubious as the film goes on, with one set piece revealing that Franz has somehow had the time to craft an entire maze of torments in a recently retired building – a fun house that feels less Scaramanga and more Pat Sharp. “It’s always been me, James,” he declares halfway through the film, trying to position himself as a mastermind of the last three films. The problem here is less that Waltz is enjoying himself in yet another cruel role, but that he’s given almost nothing to do. Part-George Osborne and part-Bill Gates, he’s a wonderfully nasty piece of work – you almost wish he was the main villain of the piece.īut, alas, we already know he isn’t, because all of the trailers for Spectre have trumpeted the arrival of another shady soul: Franz Oberhauser, a figure from Bond’s family history, played by Christoph Waltz. Played by Andrew Scott with a sickening sneer, he’s a bureaucrat with the aim of bringing British spying into the new age of global surveillance and remote drones. That balance between old and new is judged well in some quarters, as the familiar chestnut of 007 being out of step with the modern world is reemphasised with the introduction of C.
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It’s a bravura piece of blockbuster filmmaking a flourish of wit and panache that sits right alongside James Bond’s flashy cars and branded drinks.īond’s actions, we discover, are to do with a message from his past – a neat cameo and a nice way to connect these events with others gone by. The film begins in serious style, as Craig’s agent strolls through Mexico’s Day of the Dead parade with a confident swagger matched by director Sam Mendes, who shoots the whole sequence in a single take – in and out of crowds, lifts and even across buildings. The result is a disappointing retread of old ground. But, like Star Trek Into Darkness, Spectre is afraid to look forward, instead spending so much time looking back that it forgets what made Daniel Craig’s Bond so good to begin with.
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With the slate elegantly wiped clean, Spectre, like Star Trek Into Darkness, had a sandbox in which to play and no limits to what it can do. Rebooting something is never easy, but Daniel Craig’s take on James Bond, which departed from the previous cinema canon but stuck closely enough to Ian Fleming’s original text to remain faithful, managed it with aplomb over three films (yes, even Quantum of Solace), there was a gradual development of 007’s cold shoulder (towards, killing, women and the law) – a trilogy of Bond films about Bond that carefully reintroduced all the familiar franchise elements, from Q and his gadgets to M and even Miss Moneypenny.
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Spectre is the Star Trek Into Darkness of the James Bond franchise. Then, a short while later, that same director returned to the helm and sent the whole thing crashing into the ground with a crushingly uninspired sequel. It was grittier, prettier, and unafraid of examining its characters. Several years ago, a respected director came up with an inspired reboot of a long-standing series. Cast: Daniel Craig, Lea Seydoux, Ralph Fiennes, Ben Whishaw, Christoph Waltz