It’s bloody well about time.
Back in 1969, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service was jeered by critics and the public because a) George Lazenby wasn’t Sean Connery; and b) the script had the audacity to present a James Bond with genuine feelings for the woman with whom he’d fallen in love.
 |
| While James Bond (Daniel Craig, left) and Moneypenny (Naomie Harris) nervously wait, Q (Ben Whishaw) struggles to crack the security on a computer network that may reveal crucial information about the mysterious "Heracles" project. |
Over the course of Daniel Craig’s five-film arc, his Bond has been defined by loss: the loss of Vesper, in Casino Royale, and M, in Skyfall; and the dismissal of his profession, in Spectre. He has endured along the way, battered and bruised, becoming as recognizably human as one could hope for, in such an action franchise.
It’s certainly no accident, mere minutes into this new epic, when Hans Zimmer’s score injects an echo of “We Have All the Time in the World,” the poignant anthem from On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. One has to smile.
Indeed, No Time to Die is laden with similar echoes of the past: from a title credits sequence that opens with the colored polka dots employed in the credits of Dr. No, to Vic Flick’s unmistakable heavy guitar twang — elsewhere in this film’s score — in John Barry’s classic arrangement of “The James Bond Theme.”
The impressively ambitious script — by Neal Purvis, Robert Wade, Phoebe Waller-Bridge and director Cary Joji Fukunaga — even works in a hitherto-untapped bit of Ian Fleming: Dr. Guntram Shatterhand’s “Garden of Death,” from the novel You Only Live Twice.
But that comes later. No Time to Die — a much harsher affair than most Bonds — opens on a flashback involving a terrified adolescent girl and a kabuki-masked assassin. The encounter proceeds in several surprising directions, concluding as a shuddery memory for Madeleine Swann (Léa Seydoux), emerging from the sea as an astute Bond notices her uneasy mood.
They’re enjoying the carefree life chosen when they walked away from Bond’s career, at the previous film’s conclusion. But despite their mutual devotion, these are two people with secrets; we know Bond’s, from previous adventures, and we’re about to discover Madeleine’s.
It proves … complicated.
But that, too, comes later. We’re first blown away by the longest pre-credits sequence in the entire series, which climaxes with an audacious car chase through the tight corners and narrow, labyrinthine streets of Matera, in Southern Italy. Although plenty more action is yet to come, this opener is the film’s most audacious, edge-of-the-seat sequence.
Time passes; Bond is visited by longtime CIA buddy Felix Leiter (Jeffrey Wright), who requests a favor: help with rescuing kidnapped renegade scientist Obruchev (David Dencik). Bond, happily spending his days fishing in Jamaica, isn’t interested … until Felix explains that Obruchev is involved with a nasty biowarfare plan dubbed “Heracles.”
Bond knows that Heracles was a dangerous project initially proposed by M (Ralph Fiennes), and believed long ago shut down. Clearly, that isn’t the case; this prompts a furious confrontation with his former boss, where Bond now is merely a visitor. Since his 007 status was revoked, that iconic number has been assigned to a new agent: the formidable Nomi (Lashana Lynch).
She’s annoyed by the presence of her predecessor; Craig and Lynch snipe at each other with well-delivered snark. But Bond and Nomi reluctantly agree to collaborate, even as a furious M tries vainly to defend a decision that everybody knows was ill-advised.
Cue a trip to Cuba, where Obruchev has been spotted. This sequence could be extracted as a mini-movie in its own right, as Fukunaga briefly employs a mildly larkish tone more suited to the Connery era. Bond’s liaison, for a black-tie reception, is the nervous, giggly Paloma (Ana de Armas, stunning in a dress she’s almost wearing), who confesses to “three weeks training” prior to this, her first mission.
Craig and de Armas are terrific together, with a bantering repartee that recalls their sparring as co-stars in 2019’s stylish Knives Out.
But this isn’t any old reception. Looking around, Bond is horrified to recognize dozens of upper-echelon Spectre operatives … which means that, somehow, his presence has been orchestrated by Ernst Stavro Blofeld (Christoph Waltz), despite the fact that he’s shackled within a special cell, deep within the bowels of MI6.
On top of which, even as we pass the halfway point of this never-ceases-to-be-riveting 163-minute thriller, we’ve yet to meet the Big Bad who’s actually pulling the strings.
As must be clear by now, the whole gang’s here for what Craig has insisted will be his last hurrah as Bond (although we’ve heard that before). The carefully structured script gives everybody a chance to shine, including Naomie Harris’ Moneypenny, and Ben Whishaw’s Q.
Whishaw deftly blends nerdy fidgets with genuine horror, when he eventually explains the insidious intricacies of Heracles to Bond (and to us); it moves the story into highly disturbing sci-fi territory, because — frankly — the concept seems alarmingly possible.
This further fuels Bond’s adrenaline-charged transformation into a furious, take-no-prisoners rage machine: galvanized by betrayal, determined for vengeance. But Craig overlays this with world-weariness, bitterness and genuine sorrow: the latter over the fact that — no matter how tempting the simple pleasures of fishing, or the warmth of Madeleine’s embrace — he cannot change his nature.
Even so, Bond hasn’t lost his sense of humor, nor Craig his occasional soft smile and twinkle-eyed delivery of a choice bon mot. But these aren’t the jokey one-liners of the Roger Moore era — well, OK; one of them is — but instead mostly wry, self-deprecating jabs at Bond’s own expense.
Nomi’s Lashana is a total bad-ass, both in word and gracefully athletic ability. She visibly resents sharing this mission with “the old guy,” and gets even more annoyed when Bond constantly one-ups her. But Lashana certainly carries her weight; we’ve moved far beyond the era of “Bond women” who were little more than vacuous sex toys.
Seydoux also impresses, with a complex role; she does plenty of heavy lifting, given Madeleine’s extreme emotional arcs. We understand, via Seydoux’s wary gaze, that Madeleine’s attachment to Bond always involves uncertainty. Even during their warmest, most intimate moments, Madeleine’s demeanor is tense, expectant.
Waltz is once again gleefully condescending as the sinister Blofeld, and Dencik is a comic-relief hoot as the fussy, obsequious Obruchev, inappropriately finicky under the worst possible circumstances. Billy Magnussen is playfully annoying as Logan, Leiter’s gung-ho fellow agent; Dali Benssalah is flat-out scary as Primo, an unstoppable assassin with a very unusual left eye.
As for Rami Malek, whose heavily scarred face and coldly guttural voice figure prominently in this film’s trailers … well, that would be telling.
Fukunaga’s stylish direction never flags, and editors Tom Cross and Elliot Graham maintain a lively pace. Some set-pieces are both suspenseful and chilling, as with an extended skirmish in a fog-enshrouded Norwegian forest. And yes, production designer Mark Tildesley ultimately unveils an über-villain’s lair worthy of Ken Adam’s work in You Only Live Twice.
The occasional familiar quotes in Zimmer’s score are welcome, but for the most part he relies too heavily on his fondness for thunderous synth. A Bond film score shouldn’t be entrusted with the guy best known for his overblown work on superhero smack-downs and the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise.
That aside, this definitely is Craig’s best outing as Bond … and also a franchise high point. Jolly good show, 007.
No comments:
Post a Comment