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Blond
Ambition CASINO
ROYALE: Directed by Martin Campbell. Written by Neal Purvis,
Robert Wade & Paul Haggis. Based on the novel by Ian Fleming. Music
by David Arnold. Starring Daniel Craig, Eva Green, Mads Mikkelsen, Giancalo
Giannini, Jeffrey Wright and Judi Dench. Columbia Pictures, 2006. PG-13.
144 minutes. The 21st James Bond film, Casino Royale is the first film since 1987's The Living Daylights to be based on one of Ian Fleming's novels. The use of Fleming's first Bond tale as a source text appears to mean that screenwriters Robert Wade and Neal Purvis (with the help of Crash writer-director Paul Haggis) were restrained from the level of campy inanity that made a joke of 2002's Die Another Day. Gone is the bloodless cartoonishness; in its place is a gritty realism that, though it doesn't entirely dispense with the series' conventions, does give Bond an enjoyable kick in what British Treasury official Vesper Lynd (Eva Green) would call his perfectly formed arse.
But let's get straight to the point, shall we? Daniel Craig, at whose expense "James Bland" jokes were bandied about the British press, comports himself fantastically as the new Bond. He's barrel-chested and pouty; his expressive character actor's face can go from merciless to dumbstruck with a grace his predecessor, the rather smirky Pierce Brosnan, lacked. Physically, Craig's a believable, volatile and tough 007, whether pummeling baddies with only his fists or taking a nasty beating from terrorist banker Le Chiffre (Mads Mikkelsen). It's not just the physical matters that beat Bond up, though. Casino Royale is to the Bond series what Batman Begins was to the Caped Crusader: an origin story, explaining why hard-hearted Bond, always ready for a short-lived roll in the hay, got to be so suavely detached. And we all know how that happens, at least in the movies: He falls for the wrong girl. Before he does that, though, Bond chases around some bomb-makers, thwarts an attempt to blow up a prototype airplane and, as a result, finds himself at a Montenegro card table with a pile of his government's money on the line (Le Chiffre's wily plot involved making a lot of money when the airline's stock crashed post-explosion). The game (Texas hold 'em, natch) is tense and captivating, more so than you might expect. The plotting that gets us there is somewhat less so. The matter of financing international terrorists is timely, certainly, but in terms of villain motivation it's about as enthralling as Lex Luthor's plan to grow himself some real estate in Superman Returns. It does motivate Le Chiffre, who needs to win back his clients' money. Bond needs to stop him. Vesper, for her part, holds the keys to the government bank account. When she and Bond meet on the train to Montenegro they immediately face off, tartly assessing each other's personalities. One scene, and the stage is set for a classic antagonistic relationship to develop into romance. Green gives the initially disinterested Vesper a graceful combination of vulnerability and steeliness, making her a sharp young woman who doesn't deserve the dismissive "Bond girl" label. Not everything has changed, of course: Vesper and M aside, women in the film might as well not have names. The cars (one a fancy new Aston Martin) are still flashy, the dresses cut low; several people, Bond included, rise from the sea dripping wet, and a married temptress makes her laughable, bikini-clad entrance astride a white horse. But Casino Royale's "reboot" gets it mostly right, from the casting of Craig to the muted palette and sharp eye that give the film some much-needed darkness. It still takes place in a fairy-tale land where good guys are great shots and bad guys have bizarre afflictions (Le Chiffre weeps blood), but this is Bond we're talking about. If it's realism you're after, you'll be in a different theater. |
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