Review // Spectre

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Much of the Daniel Craig Bond films have been dedicated to humanizing and modernizing James Bond, giving us a deeper and more emotionally resonant look at the spy mostly known for his drink and his women. The minor sensation caused by Casino Royale was due in a large part to the fact that this young, blue-eyed James Bond felt mortal and a little unstable. The next two films focused much of their time on this character building, culminating in the literal destruction of James’ past in Skyfall, and the death of his “mother” (Judi Dench’s M). It was a cathartic moment, when all connection Bond had to the world of us thinking, feeling civilians was washed away, clearing the way for him to ascend to the super spy we know and love.

This was the movie I hoped Spectre would be. Now stripped of any emotional attachment to the world and at the height of his power, this was the film where Craig was supposed to truly become the character. No longer James Bond the man, but James Bond the god. Unfortunately Sam Mendes and his small army of screenwriters thought it better to return to the well, scooping up some new fragment of Bond’s origin story, and slapping it on the film like a faded bumper sticker on the side of an Aston Martin.

We kick things off with James and an unnamed lady friend walking the streets of Mexico City during the Day of the Dead celebrations. It’s the most striking opening scene in any of the Craig Bond films, complete with some thrilling stunt work and a few choice tongue-in-cheek quips. It’s funny and stylish, and as it launches into Sam Smith’s cool, just-cheesy-enough Writing’s On The Wall it feels like Daniel Craig is finally going to get his long overdue “fun” Bond movie.

Unfortunately this modern Bond is not allowed to have fun. James returns to London to find an MI6 in peril with Andrew Scott’s C planning to dissolve the department in favour of his new 9 Eyes intelligence commission which will combine the data gathering abilities of nine countries and make the old “agent on the ground” style of intelligence obsolete. With the help of Q James flees his impending unemployment, tracking down a lead left to him by M and a mysterious ring taken from a man in Mexico.

The subsequent investigation leads James to the shadowy organization Spectre and its self-appointed leader, Christoph Waltz’s Franz Oberhauser. Overseeing his evil deeds from a super-base in the middle of the Morrocan desert, Waltz’s character is apparently the man who has been pulling the strings in all of the previous films (let’s not think about how that messes up character motivation in those movies) and destroying Bond’s life as vengeance for a past resentment. Waltz is his usual charismatic self, but he is paralyzed – like much of the film –  by a crow-barred connection to an origin story that never really informs anything on screen.

Someone should have reminded Sam Mendes that he already covered this origin story business in Skyfall, because when the film isn’t bogging itself down in that, it’s actually pretty great. We get the fun, winking subversions that made the early Craig films so thrilling: Bond flips a switch for the machine gun and it doesn’t work, or he drinks a dirty martini instead of his regular. We also get some of the gritty fight scenes that have been a hallmark of the Craig era. Two of the film’s best scenes feature Dave Bautista’s henchman Hinx, one an epic car chase through the streets of Rome, the other a hand-to-hand battle through a train. Even the slightly rushed love story between James and Lea Seydoux’s Madeleine Swann is redeeming. The deeply traumatized daughter of Casino Royale and Quantum of Solace villain Mr. White (Jesper Christensen) is perhaps the only woman who could understand the pain Bond carries, and the chemistry between the actors is electric.

Most importantly however, we get a subtle yet effective transition into a Connery/Moore style Bond. Waltz’s transformation into Blofeld – the over-complicated torture techniques, the desert base populated by black-clothed henchmen, the white cat – is a loving tribute to the franchise and sets things up nicely for the next man to step into the tuxedo.

This is most likely the final Bond film for Daniel Craig and he will have the rare distinction of having left the character stronger than he found it. Not only has he added depth and dimension to a character long abandoned to two-dimensional tropes, but the four films he has starred in (especially those directed by Mendes) have reminded us that a Bond film can also be artistically beautiful. As flawed as Spectre is, it’s still probably in the top third as far as Bond films are concerned. Unfortunately for the filmmakers, thanks to the last nine years, our standards have been raised.

Reviewed by Evan Arppe.