Cube²: Hypercube (2002)

Posted on December 15, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #84
Andrzej Sekula | 90 mins | DVD | 15 / R

The new cube set is bigger, shinier, simpler, emptier, always one plain colour, and devoid of traps. Consequently, but perhaps inadvertently, it seems to symbolise the film itself.

Despite this simplified set, the concept behind the new cube — or ‘hypercube’, so we’re told — and the plot that results from it is incredibly complex. In fact, it seems to be too complex for the writers to grasp, so the viewer doesn’t stand a chance. It’s not the only overdone element either: Sekula’s direction is frequently as inappropriately elaborate as possible, twisting the camera round for no reason other than some misguided attempt at (inaccurately) conveying this cube’s mixed gravity. He also feels the need to illustrate characters’ backstories, something the original left to the dialogue, which is probably because the ragtag selection of flat stereotypes here are far more generic than the lot in the first film.

And there’s loads of them too, though it’s hard to tell if this is to cover for them all being one-dimensional, or a transparent attempt to keep things moving by constantly chucking more people into the mix. As if to underline the point, several are cloned from the first film, but with much weaker acting, and almost none of them are granted a plot thread that actually gets resolved. In fact, nearly every character is entirely pointless. Eventually some of them do get killed off, but every death is too reliant on some middling CGI and abstract ideas. Not a single one is as properly inventive or scary as those found in the original.

Hypercube should at least be applauded for trying something new, when it might have been easier to bung a new group of people into the same cube and come up with new ways of killing them or new puzzles to solve. It dives further into SF territory, dragging in parallel universes and varying timelines, and largely avoids rehashing the first film’s mysteries. In fact, it more picks up where that left off, drawing out questions and providing some answers about the reasons for, origins of, and people behind the cube. Unfortunately, these questions don’t need re-posing and the answers certainly aren’t required. Like other elements of the first film not carried over — the clever deaths, the claustrophobia — it’s nice that they’ve not been duplicated, but equally they didn’t need changing, expanding or explaining.

Even worse, the writers seem to have spent more time mulling over the behind-the-scenes complexities of constructing the cube — and put in all their characters and ideas about this — and not enough time actually crafting a plot. The more the clock ticks by the more obvious this becomes, to the extent that they don’t even seem to have an ending. What minimal logic there was is thrown out the window in favour of some crazy different-timeline horror that barely resolves anything and certainly cops out of almost everything.

Where the original Cube felt like the smart little sci-fi indie it was, Hypercube feels like expensive tosh based on a faux-intellectual idea. Much of the original’s brilliance lay in its simplicity, but the sequel is more complex from the off — and not in a way that rewards the attentive viewer, or even in a way the writers seem to understand. Bigger and shinier, but simpler and emptier, it’s consequently less engaging, less interesting, and far less enjoyable.

For a brief overview of the Cube trilogy, please look here.

Cube²: Hypercube featured on my list of The Five Worst Films I Saw in 2008, which can be read in full here.

Cube (1997)

Posted on December 14, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #83a
Vincenzo Natali | 87 mins | DVD | 15 / R

I’ve seen Cube a couple of times before, but, as I’ve watched it again immediately before taking on the two heavily-criticised sequels, I thought it might be worth throwing in my opinion on the original too.

Cube has a deceptively simple concept — a sci-fi/horror/mystery in which six strangers are trapped together trying to escape a series of cube-shaped rooms, some of which contain deadly traps — but within that it pulls a lot together. The major element, arguably, is the mystery of what the cube is — where is it, who built it, how does it work, why are those people there, is there a way out? Some of these questions are answered but, crucially, not all of them, and it’s partly due to this, ironically, that it’s a satisfying experience. In its series of careful, measured, necessary reveals, the film strikes a perfect balance between what it lets the viewer know — and the revelations are expertly paced throughout — and what it keeps hidden, either for the viewer to deduce or interpret for themselves, or simply because one doesn’t need to know.

Within the cube and its mystery there are the characters. Depending on your point of view they’re either well-drawn sketches interacting realistically in an unrealistic situation, or archetypes representing different facets of humanity, or simply chess pieces to move the clever construction — of both plot and setting — forward. At times the movie does work like a slasher-horror, picking off characters one by one, but after a few grisly deaths it rather transcends that. The scenes where characters debate and argue aren’t quite as engrossing as when they’re puzzling over the cube, but nor do they drag. Not all the performances are good — Maurice Dean Wint in particular lets the side down for much of the film — but the character arcs are never less than believable and well considered.

Cube manages to effectively juggle gruesome horror deaths, sci-fi mysteries, an awful lot of maths (don’t worry, you don’t need to understand it) and character-based drama. It’s a brilliant low-budget (not that it shows) understated film, which seems to have been somewhat forgotten these days, probably under the weight of the two widely derided and unnecessary follow-ups. But that remains for me to see. Whatever they may be like, everyone interested in the more intelligent end of the sci-fi spectrum should see Cube.

For a brief overview of the Cube trilogy, please look here.

Gasman (1997)

Posted on December 8, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #76a
Lynne Ramsay | 15 mins | DVD | 15

“Gritty”, “realist” and “indie” are just some of the stock terms that immediately jump to mind when watching this short, which directly enabled Ramsay to make her first feature, Ratcatcher.

Films with such words attached are not automatically to my liking, but Gasman succeeds in using the associated techniques to tell a simple story of complex emotions and meaning for the characters involved. There are times when its documentary-like style is indulgent — the opening goes on too long, for example, and some shots seem deliberately obscure — but it also relates the story effectively and produces a few beautiful views too.

Even cleverer is the use of sound: there’s virtually no dialogue, so the occasional half-heard splashes, often amongst background chatter, are all the more telling. Mostly this is in a subtle fashion, though the key phrase that reveals all is both pretty blunt (though not inordinately so) and repeated an awful lot in a very short space of time.

Gasman is not wholly successful, then, though it does have an interesting story with a strong ending, dialogue-free, that both completes the plot and leaves you wondering what happens next.

This short is available on the DVD Cinema16: British Short Films, as well as the Criterion Collection and Pathe/Fox releases of Ratcatcher.

Mamma Mia! (2008)

Posted on December 6, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #81
Phyllida Lloyd | 104 mins | DVD | PG / PG-13

If you listen to the critics, no one liked Mamma Mia. If you listen to the public, everyone loved it. It’s the highest grossing British film of all time at the UK box office — at last count, just over £400,000 away from being the highest ever* — and was still playing on the big screen at hundreds of locations the weekend before its DVD release.

Mamma Mia! is the first feature from director Lloyd, who also directed the original stage production — and sometimes both facts show. She doesn’t always quite know what to do with the camera, the choreography is often aimed at a theoretical audience rather than the camera position (a pet peeve of mine), some shots are over-simplistic, others over-done, and there’s a bit of “point and shoot” too, missing opportunities that would be obvious to more experienced film directors. It’s never atrociously directed — at the very least, the scenery looks stunning, and is put to much good use — but it does the job and little more.

The songs themselves don’t need discussion (everyone knows what they think of Abba) but it’s worth mentioning how they’re choreographed and how they come about in story terms. Some have been brilliantly staged (Mamma Mia itself, but especially Does Your Mother Know), though others are flat and awkward (The Winner Takes It All doesn’t win anything as far as I’m concerned). Equally, some emerge naturally from the story (Chiquitita, Money Money Money), while others feel shoehorned in (again, The Winner Takes It All). For others still they seem to have just given up forcing them into the plot, leaving them to be performed by a musical act: Super Trouper, which at least is vaguely appropriate to the juncture it appears; and Waterloo, which is tacked on during the end credits, though at least is amusingly done.

The majority of the cast were clearly chosen for acting skills rather than singing ability, not that it’s done the film many favours. Pierce Brosnan was unfairly singled out by critics for poor vocals, but he’s no worse than several others. On the other hand, Julie Walters is as much of a riot as you’d expect, right from her first line, and earns the lion’s share of the laughs. For any bored male viewers, there’s always Amanda Seyfried, with her often bouncy pair of friends — played by newcomers Rachel McDowall and Ashley Lilley (why, what did you think I meant?) Every cast member is clearly having a ball, so much so that some forget to do more than read lines aloud; but it’s occasionally infectious, the frequency of infection being directly proportional to how susceptible the viewer is to this genre of music and this genre of film.

It may go without saying, but the more you like Abba the more you’ll like Mamma Mia. Conversely, the more you hate them the more you’ll hate it. (Extra stars can be added or subtracted at the end depending on which side of the fence you fall.) It’s therefore easy to see why audiences — especially British audiences — have lapped it up, while the critics have been fairly damning. On the other hand, the often clichéd first-draft-level script and occasionally ungainly first-readthrough-level performances don’t help things any. Luckily it very rarely takes itself too seriously, and consequently is often hilariously funny. Though it attempts both, it clearly works best when being a camp and cheesy comedy rather than a serious romance/family drama. One especially weak note, in my opinion, is the subplot awarded to Colin Firth’s character, who turns gay almost out of nowhere. It’s not a bad idea for a subplot, especially in a film based on Abba music (not that I’m applying any stereotypes here), but it’s poorly executed.

Mamma Mia! never aimed to please the critics, or even your regular movie-goer. Instead it sets its sights firmly on Women Of A Certain Age who can remember Abba from first time round, and students who perhaps listen to them in a more ironic way nowadays. In that sense, it’s clearly an unmitigated success. As camp as a row of tents, disliked by critics, loved by audiences: Mamma Mia! is everything you’d expect from Abba.

* In the interests of fully-correct information, I feel I should point out that Mamma Mia! has now [December 28th, 2008] overtaken Titanic at the UK box office. (BBC News) ^

Fist of Legend (1994)

Posted on December 4, 2008 by badblokebob

aka Jing wu ying xiong

2008 #77
Gordon Chan | 99 mins | TV | 18 / R

I found myself watching Fist of Legend unintentionally following this year’s Children in Need appeal. The significance of this piece of trivia is that I watched it on TV, which means I had to watch it dubbed. Apparently, “it is regarded as one of the best martial arts films of all time, and almost universally viewed as Jet Li’s best” (thank you Wikipedia), but the dub does its utmost to obscure this.

Putting the audio aside (for the moment), the film has a lot to recommend it — primarily, the fights. At 2am, after seven hours of near-solid TV watching, it was these that drew me in. I’m no expert on martial arts, but I do like a good fight (on film) and Fist of Legend serves up plenty of those. In fact, there’s approximately one every five minutes, an impressively high ratio that consciously — and very pleasingly — fulfills what you want from this kind of film. This quantity doesn’t seem to have damaged quality either: all are generally impressive, but there are some particularly good ideas floating about too, such as a long fight where both participants are blindfolded.

There’s a plot too, which includes a few surprisingly surprising twists and an interesting undercurrent of Japanese/Chinese racial tensions thanks to the setting (1937, during a Japanese occupation of Shanghai). This adds an extra level to what could otherwise be a stock revenge plot.

So, that just leaves the soundtrack. The English audio is at least as bad as you’d imagine, and a reminder — if one were needed — about why dubbing foreign language films is so hated. Whatever the qualities of the film itself, the clichéd dub script and flat voiceover performances, awkwardly delivered to fit the actor’s mouth movements, make the film look cheap and poorly done. On the bright side, the main villain has an amusingly gravelly “I am playing a villain!” voice.

If you can look past the rubbish dub (which I should imagine is even easier on DVD, what with turning it off), Fist of Legend is very enjoyable. However, with the action being the primary source of pleasure, those who don’t like martial arts movies may want to imagine a lower score.

The Cable Guy (1996)

Posted on December 3, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #79
Ben Stiller | 88 mins | download | 12 / PG-13

The best thing I have to say about The Cable Guy is that the opening titles were very well done.

The second-best thing I have to say is that a subplot featuring director Ben Stiller as a faded-child-star twin-killer is very neatly integrated into the film, seeming utterly pointless until it has a near-vital role in the climax. That’s a pleasing piece of writing/editing right there. Unfortunately, the point this seems to be aiming at — that TV rules our life too much, that we’re too addicted to it, etc etc — is not only old hat, but also rendered meaningless in this instance by the lack of impact: TV goes off for the night, and one guy picks up a book. Oh, wow. And to top it off, thanks to an unnecessary final beat, it seems Jim Carrey’s titular character hasn’t actually learnt the lesson we thought he had.

Incidentally, The Cable Guy is a comedy, though at times it seems to wish you’d forget that so it could be a psychological stalker thriller. Perhaps that’s what it had wanted to be — for one thing, there are surprisingly accurate predictions for the future of telecommunications, although their coming true may simply have killed another joke (“play Mortal Kombat with a friend in Vietnam!”) — until someone realised the idea was too silly to be taken completely seriously. How funny you find the end product will depend on whether you like the style of comedy Carrey employed in the early & mid-’90s, and whether you can stomach pointless asides that don’t do anything for the plot (final act freaky nightmare, step forward). There’s little else to engage interest — Matthew Broderick’s pseudo-protagonist is, perhaps, too nice and too eager to please, and the go-nowhere romantic subplot — his main action aside from being Carrey’s straight man — has all the depth and shape of something from a cookie cutter.

More fun than the jokes, actually, is playing Spot The Pre-Fame Comedy Star. Eyes open for young-looking turns from (in ease-of-identification order) Jack Black, Ben Stiller, Owen Wilson, Janeane Garofalo, and Kyle Gass. And Eric Roberts randomly shows his face too, not that that’s relevant to anything.

The Cable Guy is rated 12, or PG-13 in the US, which may also be the last ages you’d enjoy it at.

In case anyone’s wondering what’s happened to #77 & #78… Despite spending 23 months carefully posting reviews in order (well, the first two months are actually a bit of a muddle), it’s now December and I’m a few behind, so I’ve decided to throw numerical sequence to the wind and just post reviews as & when I get round to completing them. The main reason for this is to help drive things forward so that I can actually end 2008’s posting by December 31st, rather than having it drag on into 2009 and overlap with Year 3. I’m sure no one will really mind. Or care.

Clockwise (1986)

Posted on November 29, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #76
Christopher Morahan | 92 mins | DVD | PG / PG

Clockwise, so I’m told, was written after John Cleese (who, I should point out, isn’t credited as the writer) attended Robert McKee’s famous screenwriting seminar. What this means for your average viewer is that Clockwise is expertly constructed. More importantly, it’s also very funny.

The first 15 minutes are a little dubious, but it soon becomes apparent that some of McKee’s principles are being followed (if you’re aware of them, of course) as this opening serves to establish the everyday life of Cleese’s character, headmaster Brian Stimpson. The point of this soon becomes apparent: when everything goes to hell over the next hour-and-a-quarter, the viewer can fully appreciate the impact on Stimpson’s existence. And all go wrong it does, in a manner that’s rather reminiscent of Fawlty Towers — not in the sense that Cleese is repeating himself, but rather that you could replace Stimpson with Basil Fawlty and merrily carry on along much the same path; though, I hasten to add (to this over-punctuated sentence) that Stimpson is not a clone of Fawlty, but he is prone to ending up in similar accident-and-misunderstanding-based farcical situations.

I imagine that Clockwise is less well known than it deserves because it is so very British. The humour — largely based around issues of punctuality, politeness, and social custom — is particularly British, as are the countryside settings and the finale set at a public school conference. And, in the first instance, everything goes so spectacularly wrong thanks to our wonderful language’s multiple meanings for the word “right”. From this point Cleese & co escalate the hopelessness of the situation beautifully (and very much in keeping with McKee’s ideas of good structure), gradually crafting more absurd events and dragging in more and more characters, most of whom come together in that finale. This final section perhaps goes on too long, with a rather inconclusive ending, and it lays on the anti-public school gags with a trowel — though that suits me just fine.

Some have argued that Clockwise is more like a series of sketches than a cohesive whole, but all the independent scenes are connected by a common goal, meaning very few (if any) feel genuinely out of place or inelegantly shoved in. The calm pauses between the comic scenes also allow it to remain hilariously funny so consistently — an all-out assault of comedy, no matter how good, can become rather wearing. Again, this ebb-and-flow is something the filmmakers may well have picked up from McKee.

While you could probably use Clockwise as a mini masterclass in applying some of Robert McKee’s structural principles, that’s thankfully not the be-all of it. Very funny once it gets going, this is one that fans of Fawlty Towers will likely especially enjoy — and, really, who with a sense of humour isn’t a Fawlty Towers fan?

Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon (1943)

Posted on November 27, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #75
Roy William Neill | 66 mins | DVD | PG

The name’s Holmes, Sherlock Holmes, as Universal’s loose adaptations of Britain’s Greatest Detective deliver a low-key proto-Bond, 22 years before Goldfinger applied the same tricks to Britain’s Greatest Spy.

“How so?”, you might ask. Well, Holmes has been employed as a spy for His Majesty’s Government; it begins with an ‘end of the previous adventure’ almost-action sequence that would undoubtedly take place before the opening credits now; there’s a war-winning weapon at stake; a bit of globetrotting (albeit just from Switzerland to London); some double-crossing and side-switching; even a surprisingly nasty torture sequence; a nice race-against-time final act; and an equally-matched villain, with a secret lair, who has devised a clever death for our hero. So the lair is just a house with soundproofing and unbreakable glass, but that’s not a bad effort — I don’t think there are many volcanoes to hollow out in the London area. It may be Bond on a World War Two London scale, but the feeling is there.

I discussed the controversy (for a modern audience, at least) of this updated setting in my last Holmes review, and it’s even more abundant here — seeing Baker Street as a victim of the Blitz, and 221B surrounded by sandbags, is very odd indeed — but at least it employs several elements from a variety of Conan Doyle’s plots, and it’s not unreasonable to assume that, given his skills of deduction and disguise, Holmes would’ve been employed as a spy had he been ‘alive’ during the war. In fact, Holmes actually does some detecting this time, whereas in Voice of Terror he seemed to meander around a bit, and employs several disguises, even if some of them are about as much cop as one of those glasses-nose-and-moustache masks. Of course, it would help the mystery if its solution wasn’t revealed before Tobel (the inventor of the titular war-winning weapon) was even kidnapped, but you can’t have everything.

What lets the film down more is Lionel Atwill as a weak Moriarty, supposedly the film’s grand villain. It’s not all his fault — for one example of poor writing, Holmes deduces the final code after an accidental clue from Watson, while Moriarty gets it by clumsily spilling water over a copy, hardly displaying great powers of deduction — but he doesn’t compare to the scheming, cunning Moriarty we saw played by George Zucco in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. On the plus side, the ease with each Moriarty outwitted Holmes in that earlier outing made our hero look a bit ridiculous, whereas here Holmes gets to outwit his nemesis a couple of times, including a particularly nice denouement.

As with Voice of Terror, I enjoyed a lot of Secret Weapon in spite of its distinct un-Holmes-ness — it’s another pacey, exciting World War Two spy thriller. It’s better than its immediate predecessor on the whole, though a spot of miscasting nearly persuaded me to remove another star.

Sherlock Holmes and the Voice of Terror (1942)

Posted on November 24, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #74
John Rawlins | 63 mins | DVD | U

Despite the success of their two Sherlock Holmes films (The Hound of the Baskervilles and The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, both 1939), Fox decided the character was outdated and resolved not to make any more. Universal clearly disagreed, and the popular pairing of Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce reprised their roles three years later for this, the first of twelve Holmes films the studio would make with the duo in just five years.

There’s more change afoot than just the logo at the start, however, as Holmes and Watson are dragged from their typical Victorian setting to London in the midst of World War Two. For a modern audience, who definitively associate Holmes with the Victorian era, this move seems virtually incomprehensible and sacrilegious; but Conan Doyle’s original Holmes stories take him as far as the start of World War One, so bringing the character another 28 years forward is little worse than, say, relocating the 1980 novel The Bourne Identity to 2002. Nonetheless, the filmmakers were aware of the problem even at the time, choosing to open the film with a title card that asserts Holmes to be “immortal… ageless, invincible and unchanging” in the hope that audiences would accept a then-present-day setting.

Whether the setting bothers you or not, the story itself might. The basic concept is a nice idea for a war-set spy-thriller, but not really for a Sherlock Holmes mystery. There are plenty of audience-pleasing applications of his ‘impossible’ deduction skills, such as the moment when Holmes concludes someone dislikes him based on the depth of footprints left in a carpet (never mind that the character huffily ignored Holmes when he came in), but the main plot involves a minimal use of these abilities. It’s also loaded with implausible elements — why would the Nazis waste bombs on empty fields (to disguise one plane going a different route) when they could have used them on genuine targets? Why are recordings shipped to Germany and broadcast back, rather than just broadcast from England? Worst of all, what’s going on with Rathbone’s haircut? The final twist is either genius or ludicrous, I’m not sure which; and the misguided reference to Holmes’ deerstalker (he’s promised not to wear it — why?) is, well, misguided.

It’s not all bad. As mentioned, the basic storyline is a good one, providing decent entertainment once it gets going; Holmes gets plenty of amusing lines, which manage to provide more genuine laughs than Watson’s incompetence; and there’s some lovely shadow-drenched photography — though the film’s even more drenched in patriotism, to the point of propaganda at times.

The consensus seems to be against me, but by the end I was quite enjoying Voice of Terror. It may be a Sherlock Holmes film in name only, but taken instead as a cheap spy thriller it makes for passable entertainment.

Quantum of Solace (2008)

Posted on November 17, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #73
Marc Forster | 106 mins | cinema | 12A / PG-13

This review contains spoilers.
For a spoiler-free view, see my initial thoughts.

Quantum of Solace is to Casino Royale what Tomorrow Never Dies was to GoldenEye: it’s the second film of a new Bond, tasked with revitalising a flagging franchise (this time creatively rather than monetarily); it’s been promoted as shorter (though by 38 minutes, not TND’s mere 11) and more action-packed; and it’s got to follow a huge success, both critically (94% on Rotten Tomatoes) and commercially ($588m worldwide). It’s a tall order — one many believe TND failed to live up to (personally, I’ve always liked it). Does QoS do any better?

Well, it’s certainly action-packed. Bond hurtles from budget-blowing sequence to budget-blowing sequence with alarming fervour, the camera literally struggling to keep up. It’s this zoomed-in, over-cut, handheld style that most grates with me during these sequences. I quite like it in the Bourne films — it’s part of their style; it fits — but I was incredibly glad to not find it in Casino Royale, and therefore disappointed to see it showing up here. Compare Royale’s early free running chase to the early rooftop one in QoS and you’ll quickly see not only which is better staged, but which is better shot. There are some good moments action-wise — for every disappointing boat or plane battle there’s an effective duel (swinging from scaffolding) or a destructive car chase — but I do wish someone would put the camera on a tripod. The frequency of such sequences, plus an abundance of other common action/spy movie tropes (a rogue agent, shadowy organisations, moles — in fact, trust has never been more of an issue), suggest that this is very much the Action Movie on director Marc Forster’s increasingly eclectic CV. His true strengths show up elsewhere however, as the most memorable parts of the film aren’t the headache-inducing punch-ups, but any scene that involved Bond and M or Bond and Mathis.

The acting, you see, is of a high standard, certainly above the requirements of the genre. While Craig may be lumbered with a very focussed, almost one-note Bond, the flashes of drama and dark humour allow him the odd chance to stretch. He may not get the variety that Casino Royale offered in this department, but he does enough with what’s there. Never more so than in the scenes with Giancarlo Giannini’s Mathis — the action pauses for breath when Bond seeks him out, and we’re treated to some of the film’s very best bits. Some fans wondered how the character could be brought back after Casino Royale, and the trick is to transform his role: what was previously a minor part designed to facilitate the plot here becomes one of unique significance, an injection of emotion and humour that makes his unfortunate death the film’s most heartbreaking moment — in fact, I might go so far as to argue it’s the saddest moment in a Bond film since the end of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. It’s these scenes that allow Forster’s dramatic directorial abilities to come to the fore, confirming that this is where his true talent lies.

Best of all is Dame Judi Dench, unsurprisingly excellent as ever. She’s aided considerably by M having a much bigger part this time out — not in an obvious The World Is Not Enough-style “have her kidnapped” kind of way, but just by giving her a lot more to do as James’ boss. In the old days the boss sending an agent out into the field and not hearing from him again until the mission was over may have made sense, but in our world of easy telecommunication it would be ridiculous if M wasn’t closely monitoring and commanding Bond every step of the way. So she does, and it’s great for the viewer to be treated to so much of Dench and her relationship with Craig. Not only that, but M has a spot of governmental and inter-agency politics to deal with too, increasing her role still further. If they retain any element of QoS for Bond 23, I hope it’s this.

As for the other Bond girls, Olga Kurylenko is fine but unmemorable, perhaps most significant for being the only major Bond girl who doesn’t sleep with our hero. (Incidentally, this is the third action film in two years in which Kurylenko plays a major part and doesn’t sleep with the hero. That’s quite a niche to be carving.) Back-up girl Gemma Arterton is disappointingly underused, existing primarily for the sake of being another girl in an otherwise masculine film. Her Goldfinger-tribute death, a nice nod in a franchise that has almost entirely excised its past, is an effective touch in and of itself (aficionados will surely note that, this time, there’s no conveniently-placed cushion), but considering the substance at stake turns out to be water rather than oil, it’s either Quantum playing some misplaced guessing game or an ill-considered plot hole. More annoying is her name, however. I don’t care that she’s named Strawberry Fields — it’s either an appropriately silly Bond girl name or, in this day and age, depressingly believable — but much is made of her first name going unrevealed, only to be rewarded with no pay-off. It’s not revealed on screen (only in the end credits), and Bond doesn’t even have an (admittedly clichéd) “I never even knew her first name” line on finding her body. Only a minor misstep, to be sure, but a nagging one.

As the scheming villain-by-proxy, Dominic Greene, Mathieu Amalric feels underused. He’s not as non-present as some Bond villains (The Spy Who Loved Me comes to mind, where Bond shares all of three lines with his nemesis before shooting him), but there’s a definite sense that the military coup/water hoarding storyline is a perfunctory element around Bond’s hunt for the men behind Vesper, in the process establishing Quantum so they can be dealt with in a later film. While I like having a Big Bad Organisation to cross over the films, much as SPECTRE did in the early days, the downside to their first real appearance here is that this particular scheme — a coup in a relatively inconsequential country, it must be said — is a bit lightweight for such a powerful, important organisation. This, plus Greene being more of a civil servant-type figure than an evil megalomaniac, leaves the climax feeling rather anticlimactic, lacking both the grandeur of the old Bond and the emotional weight of Casino Royale (as if a sinking building wasn’t quite grand!) It’s been touted in interviews that Greene’s fighting style is that of “a man who can’t fight”, but that’s no reasonable excuse for his final duel with Bond being so brief. Try harder next time.

Which, it seems, has been the closing impression of QoS for many fans. In this vein, placing the famous gunbarrel at the film’s close is surely highly symbolic, in the same way that saving the equally famous theme music for the end of Casino Royale was: Bond has now completed his evolution, excised his Vesper-demons, and is now the character we all know. Where at the start of the film he merrily kills everyone he comes across, at the end, face to face with the man mostly directly responsible for Vesper’s suicide, who he’s spent most of the film tracking down, he questions him before handing him over to MI6. For all those who dislike QoS’s style, this closing gunbarrel is hopefully an indication that, come 2011, the Bond they know will be back.

So does QoS do any better than Tomorrow Never Dies? Critically, yes, actually — although it’s received mixed reviews, they’ve been positive overall. At the box office, very much so, including the franchise’s best-ever US opening weekend (in this case topping the widely-disliked Die Another Day, something Casino Royale didn’t even manage). As for me, the opinion that opened my initial thoughts on the film still stands: it’s not as good as Casino Royale, but that was a far above average piece of entertainment. QoS isn’t a great Bond film, and it certainly doesn’t have the cross-fandom appeal that Brosnan at his best managed — and it certainly does have more than its fair share of detractors — but it’s a solid entry in the series. When the preceding instalment was possibly the best the franchise has produced in its 46-year history, that can make things seem worse than they are.

My initial thoughts also offer additional comments on the level of humour, the title sequence, and more.

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