I just watched Skyfall, the first Bond movie to have a bilingual title not a name, which works just as well in English and Swedish. After the tremendous success of Casino Royale (needless to say, the 2006 version) and the rallying criticism against Quantum of Solace (2008), my expectations were, strangely, high. Perhaps because I have strongly enjoyed the works of Sam Mendes (though yet to see American Beauty, I've strongly enjoyed Thomas Newman's spellbinding soundtrack, and was exalted to see he had accompanied the director to this feat as well), but Road to Perdition is not Bond, and the greatest director outside the gulch is yet to prove worthy of Martin Campbell - thou wunderbare själ. Thinking of it in hindsight, it might have been ominious, but that would have been equally false.
Bond movies is a repetative work; to the extent that several actors (Charles Gray, Joe Don Baker, Maud Adams) have reprised their performances in a different character). Counterwise, both 007 and his nemesis Ernst Blofeld (unfortunately not seen since 1983's unofficial Never Say Never Again) have been embodied by five or six different faces. My favorites are Connery, Craig, Pleasence, Savalas. Proven the right actor and a right script, I would gladly see his re-introduction, obviously by a Nordic actor (just imagine Jonas Gardell wearing a Mao costume with the Persian in his lap). Under Mendes' careful guidance, we are instead introduced to a band of terrorists led, or rather co-ordinated in their efforts by a brilliant Javier Bardem, who vaguely, but not too obviously brings me to Heath Ledger's historic performance of an undisclosed villain.
Until Casino Royale, a most dignified reboot which (as an individual feature) outshines Batman Begins, only two Bond movies had broken the classic beginning and end model, one being the very first, before the concept was washed fresh from the womb, draped in tux, collar and bowtie and breast-fed Vodka Martini and nicotine. The second, without mentioning names or events, is the twisted conclusion of On Her Majesty's Secret Service, which interestingly was until Craig's debute the only one to truly move me. Hurl whatever you can grab inside your head's most inferior compartments at Lazenby; he is still the one closest to the character of Fleming's novels (possibly split with Connery) and quit not of incompetence because his manager (correctly, one might assume, only insufficiently so) warned that the patriotic, sexist, unproblematic agent would perish in the increasingly revolting culture of the 1970s. If you have deliberately avoided or meekly failed to seen all of OHMSS, do it now. The plot, the thrilleresque mystique and the music are all unforgettable, though noticably dividing among fans and unfans. I only miss Desmond Llewellyn's Q - now I miss him forever. Just like the cigarettes; Bond used to carry all dangerous habits, remember?
Casino was thesis. Quantum, antithesis, a descent like a risen paraplegic back into his wheelchair, which, although a more than decent movie, made the withering Bond-ness in terrific action feature Die Another Day seem charming and adhering to its inheritance. Frankly, I could only wish for the old, all live-and-well actors pass by in the background of this grandesque 50-year anniversary to be slim of perfection as a motion picture, but this is not quite the return to the ways of old, nor their reorganization into something new, yet familiar. Bond is not Ethan Hunt, or Indiana Jones (who, despite South Park's brilliant critique of the same, was goodly handled in the late fourth installment) or even Carrie Matheson. I recall to miss something, and still it is... fascinating. Only the screenwriters would be like to do a better job to finish the next one into perfection, and my only advice to them (unless one day granted that unspeakable and horrendous honour) is this; watch all the films of old, read the books, and try to grasp the threads that never end, and then build yourself a loom. The new Bond, now only reconstituted and about to burst out of the chest of Daniel Craig, the most wonderful choice, will need the best of old and new to stay alive.
And Adele (ndeserves another eloge. Her voice was made for this purpose. A personal wish to the list would be Sharon den Adel, though I doubt it is one shared by all.
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