I'm back from vacationing in good ol' Tejas. Unfortunately, the only thing I didn't get accomplished was my review. Rest assured you'll see it in two days time (which will leave only my Requiem Mass unfinished, Mr. Schauer).
However, I just wanted to share this quick story before I post the aforementioned. It seems like a good one on which to end the year.
I went for a walk late on the evening of December 25. Having had a decent Christmas with my parents (which, at my father's behest, included a viewing of that holiday classic, The Dark Knight), I took a constitutional, as I am wont to do when I'm back in Corsicana.
On the way to the park where I take those frequent walks, I passed 4 kids playing with some sort of dart guns. While I didn't pay much attention to them--enough only to keep from getting shot at--I'd say their ages ranged from about 5 to 9.
Here is the conversation that I overheard. Keep in mind that I didn't respond to them; I just strode onward, collar on my peacoat turned up, a small smile upon my face.
Kid 1 (referring to me): "Is he a bad guy?"
Kid 2: "Nah, he's not a bad guy."
Other kids: "No. No. He's not bad."
Kid 2: "He's Batman."
Other kids: "Aw, wow! Batman!"
Kid 1: "Nah, he's not Batman."
Kid 2: "Well, who is he?"
(Pause)
Kid 1: "He's just...a man."
I'm just a man. Truer words...
Alright. I hope you've all had an enjoyable holiday season. This QOS review and I have some unfinished business. See you back here in two days time.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
Quantum of Solace: Great Bond? Or the Greatest Bond? Part 1
So, my friend Brad (one of only 8 people I know who unabashedly likes the film) poses the question to me, "So is your Quantum of Solace review going to end up as the great unfinished magnum opus of your career?"
Damn near, kids. Damn near.
The reason? Appropriating a line from the short story of the same name, allow me to let Ian Fleming explain:
"The prospect, which had previously interested, even excited him, was now edged with boredom and futility."
In earnest do I attempt to retrieve my interest, my excitement, for the few of you who, you know, give a damn.
Part 2 to follow at an indeterminate date (i.e. after you've all forgotten the film), in which I vehemently instruct the nay-saying sections of Bond fandom to listen to reason (i.e. my opinion) and, ultimately, to chill the fuck out.
And much as I loathe ending sentences with prepositions, I'm pretty sure I can let that one go.
Damn near, kids. Damn near.
The reason? Appropriating a line from the short story of the same name, allow me to let Ian Fleming explain:
"The prospect, which had previously interested, even excited him, was now edged with boredom and futility."
In earnest do I attempt to retrieve my interest, my excitement, for the few of you who, you know, give a damn.
Part 2 to follow at an indeterminate date (i.e. after you've all forgotten the film), in which I vehemently instruct the nay-saying sections of Bond fandom to listen to reason (i.e. my opinion) and, ultimately, to chill the fuck out.
And much as I loathe ending sentences with prepositions, I'm pretty sure I can let that one go.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Bits. Tid Bits.
I endure myriad stupid comments throughout my work week. Today's quote takes the cake. On one of my many, MANY conference calls, I heard, "All of those myths are definitely false." The brain wobbles. And not that scotch-tastic wobble, either.
I feel for people trying to find teddy bears for their kids. We almost all of us had them when we were kids. They were simple, cute, and happy little stuffed animals. Nowadays, those damn things look like they'll all murder you in the night.
Finding the right shawl collar cardigan is much harder than I figured.
I can't help it and I can't say why, kids, but I'm feeling a great deal of Texas pride lately.
I do hope Daniel Craig doesn't wear a new pair of sunglasses in the next film. I just can't afford it.
Watching last week's episode of 30 Rock was glorious. To see my favorite comedy of the present cross paths with my favorite comedy of my childhood (Night Court)...well...that's like having a James Bond film and a Batman film in the same year. Hey, wait a minute...
Speaking of which, my Quantum of Solace review is forthcoming.
Ready yourselves.
I feel for people trying to find teddy bears for their kids. We almost all of us had them when we were kids. They were simple, cute, and happy little stuffed animals. Nowadays, those damn things look like they'll all murder you in the night.
Finding the right shawl collar cardigan is much harder than I figured.
I can't help it and I can't say why, kids, but I'm feeling a great deal of Texas pride lately.
I do hope Daniel Craig doesn't wear a new pair of sunglasses in the next film. I just can't afford it.
Watching last week's episode of 30 Rock was glorious. To see my favorite comedy of the present cross paths with my favorite comedy of my childhood (Night Court)...well...that's like having a James Bond film and a Batman film in the same year. Hey, wait a minute...
Speaking of which, my Quantum of Solace review is forthcoming.
Ready yourselves.
Friday, November 14, 2008
25 Words or Less, Part 2...
Fanboys and critics are wrong. My friends and I are right.
Quantum of Solace is outstanding.
And Strawberry Fields...oh, Strawberry Fields.
More to come...
Quantum of Solace is outstanding.
And Strawberry Fields...oh, Strawberry Fields.
More to come...
Never Say Midnight Again
Well, it's official. I've gone to my last midnight show.
I was supposed to have seen Quantum of Solace tonight.
But I didn't. Because a group of absolute fucking retards did not know how to behave in the theater (constant talking, racist remarks during the trailers, and other dicketry).
And I had a choice to make. I could either leave the theater, or call one of you fine people to bail me out of jail for the--I assure you--IMMENSE BODILY HARM I WOULD HAVE SWIFTLY INFLICTED UPON THOSE COMPLETE AND UTTER ASSHOLES WHO HAVE POSITIVELY NO CLUE HOW TO BEHAVE WITH CIVILITY IN ANY PUBLIC VENUE, MUCH LESS A PACKED MOVIE THEATER.
I was forced from a Bond film this evening; about 10 minutes of that crap was all I could take.
And if I ever run into those guys in a dark alley someday...I will fuck them up but good.
A horrid end to a horrid day.
I've gone to my last midnight show. I go now to fretful sleep.
I was supposed to have seen Quantum of Solace tonight.
But I didn't. Because a group of absolute fucking retards did not know how to behave in the theater (constant talking, racist remarks during the trailers, and other dicketry).
And I had a choice to make. I could either leave the theater, or call one of you fine people to bail me out of jail for the--I assure you--IMMENSE BODILY HARM I WOULD HAVE SWIFTLY INFLICTED UPON THOSE COMPLETE AND UTTER ASSHOLES WHO HAVE POSITIVELY NO CLUE HOW TO BEHAVE WITH CIVILITY IN ANY PUBLIC VENUE, MUCH LESS A PACKED MOVIE THEATER.
I was forced from a Bond film this evening; about 10 minutes of that crap was all I could take.
And if I ever run into those guys in a dark alley someday...I will fuck them up but good.
A horrid end to a horrid day.
I've gone to my last midnight show. I go now to fretful sleep.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
"It's not your word...it's who ya give it to!"
Those words were yelled with customary righteous indignation by Ernest Borgnine in one of my favorite movies of all time, The Wild Bunch. I think of those words, however, in relation to one of my favorite films of this year--Appaloosa--which I just watched again this evening.
There's a lot that I love about Ed Harris's western. The friendship between Virgil Cole (Harris) and Everett Hitch (Viggo Mortensen), yet another example of how westerns get the idea of friendship just right (in my eyes, anyway). The film's fine balance of the realistic and the romantic. The fact that it pretty much blindsided me with how enjoyable it was--something that happens to me too little anymore, my film taste becoming more weathered and eccentric with each passing year. And, as my friend Stew put it, the fact that it's nice to watch a film upon which the fate of an entire genre doesn't rest.
However, what I'm fixated on right now are two scenes in the film, both involving a man's word being given. In one scene, a stranger gives his word to Cole that he'll testify against the villain (Jeremy Irons) in a court of law. In the other, Cole asks a criminal (Lance Henriksen) for his word to put aside any differences they might have and leave their showdown for a later time, given their need to team up for a spell.
A man's word is given. And taken. With speed. And without question.
I find grand satisfaction in this commonplace honor, however minor the application. Actually, I can't tell you which I find more beguiling: the fact that someone would be willing to keep his word to a stranger, or that someone would be willing to accept the word of a stranger.
And yes, kids, I know this is a concept the movies (particularly the western and the gangster film) and fiction in general excel at promoting. I'm not so naive as that. (Okay, I'm close.)
I can't help it, though. The thought so wholly resonates with me, even though I realize it was probably never that commonplace. It is something, I suppose, that one may still find nowadays...albeit in rare corners.
And I guess that gets me back to why I love the Borgnine quote so much. Because it's not just the weight of your word that does you honor. The choice of whom you would trust with it really is more important, particularly since that person would just as quickly keep theirs to you.
I can't really tell you why all this is on my mind. I think about stuff like this now and then, and as with most things probably way more seriously than I should. If nothing else, I hope you walk away with a good movie recommendation and a couple of minutes' entertainment from me sharing all this with you.
Alright. I'm done for the evening. Now that I've finished Crooked Little Vein, I'm off to figure out what I'm going to read next.
Until next time...
Read: "Gonna Be a Long Drive," "Our Time on the Edge," "I Know, Right," and "Journeys Big and Small." They're all blogs my friends write, and they'll actually give you more entertainment and satisfaction than the books, movies, or music I usually recommend here. Enjoy them, kids.
There's a lot that I love about Ed Harris's western. The friendship between Virgil Cole (Harris) and Everett Hitch (Viggo Mortensen), yet another example of how westerns get the idea of friendship just right (in my eyes, anyway). The film's fine balance of the realistic and the romantic. The fact that it pretty much blindsided me with how enjoyable it was--something that happens to me too little anymore, my film taste becoming more weathered and eccentric with each passing year. And, as my friend Stew put it, the fact that it's nice to watch a film upon which the fate of an entire genre doesn't rest.
However, what I'm fixated on right now are two scenes in the film, both involving a man's word being given. In one scene, a stranger gives his word to Cole that he'll testify against the villain (Jeremy Irons) in a court of law. In the other, Cole asks a criminal (Lance Henriksen) for his word to put aside any differences they might have and leave their showdown for a later time, given their need to team up for a spell.
A man's word is given. And taken. With speed. And without question.
I find grand satisfaction in this commonplace honor, however minor the application. Actually, I can't tell you which I find more beguiling: the fact that someone would be willing to keep his word to a stranger, or that someone would be willing to accept the word of a stranger.
And yes, kids, I know this is a concept the movies (particularly the western and the gangster film) and fiction in general excel at promoting. I'm not so naive as that. (Okay, I'm close.)
I can't help it, though. The thought so wholly resonates with me, even though I realize it was probably never that commonplace. It is something, I suppose, that one may still find nowadays...albeit in rare corners.
And I guess that gets me back to why I love the Borgnine quote so much. Because it's not just the weight of your word that does you honor. The choice of whom you would trust with it really is more important, particularly since that person would just as quickly keep theirs to you.
I can't really tell you why all this is on my mind. I think about stuff like this now and then, and as with most things probably way more seriously than I should. If nothing else, I hope you walk away with a good movie recommendation and a couple of minutes' entertainment from me sharing all this with you.
Alright. I'm done for the evening. Now that I've finished Crooked Little Vein, I'm off to figure out what I'm going to read next.
Until next time...
Read: "Gonna Be a Long Drive," "Our Time on the Edge," "I Know, Right," and "Journeys Big and Small." They're all blogs my friends write, and they'll actually give you more entertainment and satisfaction than the books, movies, or music I usually recommend here. Enjoy them, kids.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
I'm not a political man, but...
...in much the same way that candidates have both victory speeches and concession speeches prepared, I've had a couple of quotes circling around in my head.
The first one, a most dreadful thought, has been in my head for a few weeks now. Upon the outbreak of World War I, British Foreign Secretary Sir Edward Grey made the following comment, which has stuck with me ever since I first heard it in Coach Blake's 8th Grade History class:
"The lamps are going out all over Europe; we shall not see them lit again in our lifetime."
The first one, a most dreadful thought, has been in my head for a few weeks now. Upon the outbreak of World War I, British Foreign Secretary Sir Edward Grey made the following comment, which has stuck with me ever since I first heard it in Coach Blake's 8th Grade History class:
"The lamps are going out all over Europe; we shall not see them lit again in our lifetime."
Thankfully, the turnout TURNED OUT. As a result, another quote comes to mind, from a poem about baseball--the name and author of which both escape me at present:
"The day is done/The score is in/The final cheer and jeer have passed/
And in the night/Beyond the fight/The player finds rest, at last."
And so too can we find some rest, at least tonight.
All that's left to say is...this looks like a job for the President of the United States.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Magic Hour
No, not that magic hour. It's yesterday's extra hour to which I refer.
You see, kids, the end of daylight saving time is one of my favorite days of the year (if not my absolute favorite).
I purposely don't adjust my clocks the night before, as I like awakening with the sense that I've somehow fooled time. That feeling fills me with the illusory joy of achieving the impossible. It's what I imagine it would feel like to dribble a football.
In the days that follow, I relish the sensation that comes over me when I check the time in the evening, always feeling as though I have so many more opportunities for accomplishment before day's end. For me, it's always a spot of hope.
I love that magic hour. I'd live in it forever, if I could. Admittedly, I'm romanticizing this little bit of time, but then...that's kinda what I tend to do at times, isn't it?
(Oh, and speaking of hope, here's hoping tomorrow's turnout turns out well.)
More to come. Later...
You see, kids, the end of daylight saving time is one of my favorite days of the year (if not my absolute favorite).
I purposely don't adjust my clocks the night before, as I like awakening with the sense that I've somehow fooled time. That feeling fills me with the illusory joy of achieving the impossible. It's what I imagine it would feel like to dribble a football.
In the days that follow, I relish the sensation that comes over me when I check the time in the evening, always feeling as though I have so many more opportunities for accomplishment before day's end. For me, it's always a spot of hope.
I love that magic hour. I'd live in it forever, if I could. Admittedly, I'm romanticizing this little bit of time, but then...that's kinda what I tend to do at times, isn't it?
(Oh, and speaking of hope, here's hoping tomorrow's turnout turns out well.)
More to come. Later...
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Candy Corn & Canes
Continuing in my tradition of costumes that require little effort clothing-wise, while still being wholly fitting (Dwight from Sin City, Nick Fury, Bruce Wayne), this year's Halloween will see me as this ol' fave...
I can't tell you how strange it was to purchase the cane and the stethoscope. However, both will undoubtedly come in handy someday.
To end, a quote:
"When I was 14, my father was stationed in Japan. I went rock climbing with this kid from school. He fell and got injured, and I had to bring him to the hospital. We came in through the wrong entrance and passed this guy in the hall. He was a janitor. My friend came down with an infection, and the doctors didn't know what to do. So they brought in the janitor.
"He was a doctor. And a buraku - one of Japan's untouchables. His ancestors had been slaughterers, gravediggers. And this guy knew that he wasn't accepted by the staff, didn't even try. He didn't dress well. He didn't pretend to be one of them. People around that place didn't think he had anything they wanted, except when they needed him - because he was right, which meant that nothing else mattered.
"And they had to listen to him."
Monday, October 27, 2008
A Bit of Peace, Also Known As...
...a Quantum of Solace. Yes, yes. Go ahead. Rake me over the coals for that one. What can I do? I've been working a steady stream of 12-hour days. I'm pissed because I haven't posted here in weeks. Gimme a break, kids.
Actually, I'm looking for just that: a bit of peace from the rabid Bond fans out there, who in spite of being blown away by Casino Royale, still find the time, energy, and vitriol to post all of the things wrong with Quantum of Solace that will have nothing to do with how good the movie is.
For example, fans are all a-twitter that Mr. Craig won't be uttering the most famous line of introduction in all of cinema: "The name is Bond. James Bond."
And I ask you this: who cares? How is it that the fate of this film's quality rests on six words? Seriously? We're agitated by this? Dear me. I mean, I take the Bondian world more seriously than most, but that's such a bewilderingly petty thing on which to fixate. I could attack it from a purist's (i.e. loyal to the novels) point of view and cite the fact that he did not introduce himself that way in every single one of Fleming's tales. Why should I, though? It. Doesn't. Matter.
Let's talk about the song. Oh, yes...the theme song: yet another component on which the quality of the film does not rest. You can have a great song without the film to match (A View to a Kill or Live and Let Die, anyone?) or vice versa (can't say I'm the biggest fan of From Russia with Love's theme, though it's certainly not bad).
Which brings us to the first duet in Bond history: the inimitable Jack White and Alicia Keys (to whom I give no adjective, since I had no real feeling for her before this song) with "Another Way to Die." To be honest, the first time I heard this song, I was pretty neutral to it. It certainly wasn't--as many fans claim--as actively awful as Madonna's "Die Another Day," but it was no "GoldenEye" or "You Know My Name" either.
Again, I can defend this on rational grounds: 1) like "You Know My Name," "Another Way to Die" sounds as though the lyrics perfectly suit some of the things we can expect to see in the film, and 2) upon further reflection, Jack White's composition is a wonderfully modern homage to John Barry's score for On Her Majesty's Secret Service.
Again, though--it doesn't matter. The film won't be made by that credit sequence over which an inevitably truncated version of this track will play.
So let's talk about the final bit of controversy: the run time. How dare they give us the shortest running Bond film (QoS) immediately after the longest (CR)! This from people who've likely never seen a film by Budd Boetticher. A 78-minute Bond film? Believe it or not, I'd love to see how that would play.
To the issue at hand, though, this is the one potential flaw of the upcoming Bond film. Granted, if they end up having needed to tell more story than they did, then the shorter run time is definitely a factor. However, if 1 hour and 45 minutes isn't enough time...
After all, if I'm honest with myself and you, good reader, the Bond films as a whole are much too long. There. I've said it.
Forgive me. Taking a deep breath before resuming.
Look at what is now the next shortest film: Goldfinger. Everyone's darling example of what a Bond film should be, clocking in as 1 hour 50 minutes. Watch it again sometime. Then come back and tell me how surprised you were at how slow it was. And I'll say, "I know. I noticed that too."
Again, we haven't seen Quantum of Solace yet, so let's not pre-judge. Stow the vulture shtick and do what I do. Look forward to it like it's going to be the best Bond yet. After all, isn't that what real fans do? Sure, we all have our preferences, our tastes, our idiosyncrasies, but at the end of the day, we look forward. We anticipate. We ready ourselves for a great experience, which always gives me more than a bit of peace.
I'm also given a bit of peace by the fact that my Bond-fan-friends do not fall into that variety I've described above. Indeed, I'm considering wiping the floor with some of those fans at a Bond trivia contest at the Sundance Theater in Madison on November 11 (For prizes, kids! Prizes!). I believe it's teams of three. If you're a friend and a Bond aficionado, do let me know if you'd like to join me for this. I'm on the fence about it at present.
One last thing. Those of you who've read my old post on my ranking of the Bond films with capsule reviews can skip what's ahead, as it's a rehash from my old blog. For those of you who haven't seen it before...well...if you're finding yourself woefully underexposed to the Bond catalogue--or you're just wondering what the hell I'm thinking--then let me give you an idea of how they all stack up.
You won't find the original versions of Casino Royale here or Never Say Never Again, since none of them are canon. Yes. Canon. I'm serious. As to the other 21, here we go:
21. The Man with the Golden Gun—Christopher Lee is really the only force opposing the onslaught of poor pacing, the ennui-packed plotting, and the racist rants of Sheriff J.W. Pepper. I suppose Roger Moore is good in his more serious moments, but he's given wholly stupid allies and an exclusively disapproving M (I prefer M in more of the paternal role). If there's one Bond I wouldn't recommend, this is it.
20. Diamonds Are Forever—Charles Gray as Blofeld. Uh-uh. Blofeld in drag. Uh-uh. Bond in a moon buggy pursued by three-wheelers. Strike 3, kids! Even so, Jill St. John is fetching, and for whatever reason I find Wint & Kidd amusing. Sean Connery is back, but only to slightly good effect. It's fair to say the first half of the movie is much more interesting than the second, but this is not the follow-up to On Her Majesty's Secret Service that I wanted to see.
19. Moonraker—Not the worst Bond film ever—I'm just as surprised as you are. Set aside the absurdity of Bond in space, as well as the name Holly Goodhead (insert your giggle here). Michael Lonsdale gives a fantastic performance as Drax, and Moore is able to inject some much needed gravitas (weirdly enough) into the proceedings. Yes, yes, the gondola leaps from canal to land, but somehow it just fits here. And the wrist gun…well…I thought that was the height of cool when I was 8.
18. A View to a Kill—Starring Roger Moore's stuntman, it's true, but the Silicon Valley/earthquake plot has always fascinated me (reminiscent of Lex Luthor's schemes). Walken is Walken—seldom a bad thing—and the film excels when Moore and Walken are sharing the screen. The fight on the Golden Gate at the end and the City Hall fire sequence still excite me to this day. Certainly, Tanya Roberts is dreadful, but the Duran Duran theme compensates somewhat.
17. Live and Let Die—Seriously underrated in almost every way and in many ways grittier and more serious than For Your Eyes Only. Moore begins his tenure coolly and with true panache. Seeing Quarrel, Jr., helping Bond in the field still makes me smile. Jane Seymour's character is fascinating both for her innocence and her clairvoyance. Additionally, I give you three words: Yaphet Kotto, baby. And the theme? KICK ASS. On the down side, no Q, no scope frame, and some frightening stereotypes (both black and white).
16. Die Another Day—It's the lost masterpiece of the franchise. The first hour is some of the best Bond ever. And then we hit the ice palace. Even after I say those things, it's not really fair to draw such a sharp line divvying up the film's successes from its failures (as many have). I think the movie had an incredibly timely plot, a fantastic performance by Brosnan (who, after finding his true stride in The World Is Not Enough, exuded a kind of confidence in the role all but surpassing his predecessors), and a mostly compelling supporting cast (particularly Toby Stephens and Rosamund Pike). If only I could go back and recut the film, the main problem would disappear—Halle Berry. Seriously, if she's supposed to be Bond's equal, then why is she: a) always having to be rescued by him, and b) not particularly smart or witty? Couldn't they have just brought Michelle Yeoh back?
15. You Only Live Twice—While people claim Goldfinger as the quintessential Bond film, I can't help but think that a great many people's impressions of Bond are as equally shaped by this film. Pleasance's Blofeld, the volcano base, being bathed by bikini-clad beauties—it's all here! (For Mike Myers to remind us!) Connery is still fantastic, but it's easy to tell he's a little tired of the role. All in all, it's a hugely fun picture (Little Nellie! Oh, she's a wonderful girl!). My only gripes—the pacing's off at times, and the head of Japanese SIS should not ever seem like an idiot.
14. Octopussy—Following the mostly serious For Your Eyes Only, this film puts more of the silly back into the fray. I gotta say—it still works somehow. Moore, aging though he is, pulls off both the intensity and the frivolity of Bond with equal aplomb. Louis Jordan makes for an appealing if not altogether compelling villain, and Maud Adams (as the titular character, the title itself no doubt what ensured the film's success on home video) is leaps and bounds more fascinating than her character in The Man with the Golden Gun. On the down side, there are too many fucking circus clowns.
13. Thunderball—SPECTRE is at its best here, stealing atomic bombs to extort money from the governments of the world (always a great plan, kids). Adolfo Celi has the right amount of menace (that eye patch doesn't hurt), and Luciana Paluzzi (insert longing here) is absolutely stunning as Fiona Volpe. Post-Goldfinger, Connery's got the role down cold and effortlessly maintains his swagger of comfort and cool. John Barry's score is particularly excellent. The movie drags in the underwater sequences, though, which causes the climax to feel rushed. Sadly, this was Terence Young's last feature in the series, and while this one wasn't on par with Dr. No or From Russia with Love, it would be a while before the films saw as skilled a director.
12. Dr. No—The template for all to follow, Dr. No holds up as a well-constructed straightforward espionage thriller. The film takes itself very seriously (perhaps a little too much so, but better to err on the serious side than the silly), and Connery's no different. To steal a line from the song "Mr. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang," while he's suave and he's smooth, and he can soothe you like vanilla, the gentleman's a killah. There's a rough quality to Connery that only adds to the menace already within Bond. Joseph Wiseman is great as the title character, exuding the kind of epic, elegant arrogance that he would bequeath to of all the great Bond villains. It's light on score variety but heavy on thrills. Oh, and Ms. Andress, you may rise from the sea now.
11. The Spy Who Loved Me—I know, I know! We'll remake You Only Live Twice and improve it! Essentially, that's what happened here. I'll always wonder how a straight adaptation of the novel would look (awkward as it would be). However, what Goldfinger is to Connery's run, this film is to Moore's. The Spy Who Loved Me shows us how underwater sequences should be shot (i.e. at a faster pace than Thunderball), and the final assault with Bond and all of the sub crews is still something that hasn't been equaled in subsequent films. Barbara Bach is a solid match for Roger Moore, and Richard Kiel gives us the man with the metal teeth. However, Marvin Hamlisch leaves a little to be desired (though I do have a soft spot for "Bond '77").
10. Tomorrow Never Dies—Oh, Michelle…I wanted you back so badly for another film. How could you leave us? Brosnan has some wonderful darker moments (I'm thinking particularly of the scene where he executes Vincent Schiavelli's character), and it's decidedly one of the most action-packed films in the whole series. Dame Judi makes for a less adversarial M here, which begins the transformation into a maternal figure that lasts to this day, proving her a more-than-worthy successor to Bernard Lee. Down side—Jonathan Pryce is a little absurd (that scene where he's slapping the keyboard with one hand pretending to type is embarrassing), and Teri Hatcher doesn't have the acting chops (or the lines, in fairness) to portray Bond's former love.
9. The World Is Not Enough—Again, one bad casting decision ruins an otherwise perfectly good movie. Denise Richards as a nuclear scientist. And, with lines like, "Someone's tampered with the bomb!" I just don't have the words, really. Take her out of the picture, though, and it would jump a few on the list. The reveal of the villain is easily the most satisfying in the series, and the picture overall feels more like a Fleming tale than the other Brosnan films. Sophie Marceau's more sophisticated and emotionally compelling performance makes up for Richards' "presence," and Robert Carlyle is icily impressive as the terrorist who can feel no pain. Brosnan is the real treasure here, though, giving what is perhaps the most quintessential interpretation of the movies' Bond.
On a sadder note, this was Desmond Llewellyn's last film as Q, as he died shortly after the picture was released. His last moment in the film, where he says, "Always have an escape plan," and then descends below the floor…I swear that scene makes me cry every single time I see it.
8. For Your Eyes Only—For my money, this is Moore's best film. From the very start, when we see him go to his wife's grave, we know this is going to be a different Bond than Moore has previously played.Moore has previously played. There are more thrills than frills in what is the most realistic story of Moore' tenure. Carole Bouquet is also the most fascinating of Moore's bevy of Bond Women as a daughter out to avenge the murder of her parents. While the film's villain (John Glover) isn't terribly compelling on his own, it's the history between him and Bond's eventual ally (Topol) that makes the film remarkable. Well, that and the ski chases…with the motorcycles and the bobsled. And Roger Moore acting his age. ("Now you put your clothes on, and I'll buy you an ice cream.") Down side: the score. Not the song. The score.
7. GoldenEye—"There is no substitute," read the teaser poster. Damn right. Bond had been absent from the screen for 6 years (how I survived is beyond me), and Pierce Brosnan and Martin Campbell brought him back with an earth-shattering bang. Upon recent viewing, the film did seem a little more dated to me than it had, but it's still Brosnan's best. I fell in love with Famke Janssen here as the charmingly psychotic and absurdly named Xenia Onatopp (being crushed by her thighs mid-coitus would be an acceptable way to go). Izabella Scorupco was a good romantic match for Brosnan (their scene on the beach, when she's basically criticizing everything Bond's out to do, is one of my favorites in the film and the series). Ultimately, though, props go to Sean Bean as Alec Trevelyan, Agent 006. Having Bond face a former 00—more than that, an old friend—remains of the best ideas in Bond history. On the down side, Eric Serra's "experimental" score, a bit of a sag in the middle, and seeing Joe Don Baker's ass cheek. On the up side, Brosnan slid into Bond's suit as though he'd always been wearing it.
6. Goldfinger—As damn near everybody says, this is the quintessential Bond film. I suppose that's accurate. The argument could be made that, once this film came along, you could combine portions of it and the first two films and get any of the later films. Gert Frobe was the best villain of the Connery run. "No, Mr. Bond. I expect you to die!" Really, does it get much better than that? This is the kind of megalomaniacal eloquence we expect from our Bond villains. And Honor Blackman as Pussy Galore…well...little more need be said, I suppose. We get the interplay between Bond and Q here, as well as the Aston Martin DB5 (with modifications). It's true: the movie mostly fires on all cylinders, but it loses serious points for Cec Linder's lame, aw-shucks portrayal of Felix Leiter, Bond's vomitous blue bathrobe and indictment of The Beatles, and the grandma packing a machine gun. And as I said above, it's just too slow for being now the second shortest film in the series.
5. The Living Daylights—While I remember seeing A View to a Kill in the theatres, this is the first Bond film that had a true impact on me. Admittedly, even though there's a lot to like in this film, Timothy Dalton was the biggest reason for that impact. Here was a man who was willing to bring Fleming's character to the screen—fortunate for me, since I was 9 at the time and had already read most of Fleming's novels. Like Casino Royale would later do, The Living Daylights takes the source story and expands the plot to make for an elaborate espionage picture. I agree with the criticism that there are too many villains with none to take center stage, but complaints that the plot is too complicated are just plain ridiculous. Spy films should be complex, people. I like Maryam d'Abo here as one of the more vulnerable Bond Women; hers is a solid performance, and she and Dalton exude good chemistry. In addition, this was the film that proved that a-Ha was a 3-hit wonder instead of a 2-hit wonder.
4. On Her Majesty's Secret Service—Everyone gives George Lazenby shit (myself included). Everyone should keep two things in mind, though. 1) It took balls to follow Connery. 2) Lazenby wasn't an actor, and thus wasn't given time to develop the character beyond this film. That said, he brings a powerful physicality to the role (those fight scenes never happened to the other fella). Diana Rigg, as Bond's one true love, at once proves his match in playfulness and in darkness, and both their marriage and the tragedy thereafter are consistently moving sequences. And who knew Kojak would make the best Blofeld? John Barry's score provides the perfect accompaniment to both the action (from Bond's escape from Blofeld's mountain base to the final assault) and the romance (particularly when Bond proposes). Some of the scenes with Blofeld's girls are tiresome, and one wishes for a tighter continuity with You Only Live Twice (Bond and Blofeld have met before, you know), but ultimately, even without Connery in the role, it's the most epic film of the series.
3. Licence to Kill—Alright, alright, let's get it out of the way: the film looks dated, the bar fight is a little awkward, and it's got Wayne Newton. There. That's all that's bad about Licence to Kill in my humble opinion (and Wayne Newton isn't that bad). For a long time, this was my favorite Bond film and the closest to Fleming it got. I've always liked Michael Wilson's description of this film as the Yojimbo of the Bond series. A spy-gone-rogue set up gets me every time. The film's also got arguably the strongest Bond Woman in Carey Lowell, a beautiful and tough-as-nails informant who's able to come to Bond's rescue for a change. And Robert Davi exemplifies my vision of the mirror-Bond villain. The relationship between Bond and his best friend, Felix Leiter, was never better realized than in this picture. Dalton too came into his own, giving the single strongest performance of the series next to Daniel Craig.
2. From Russia with Love—Without a doubt, the best of the Connery films. In terms of sheer espionage, it gives Casino Royale a run for its money and may actually exceed it in that respect. Connery looks so tough here that he would have made John Wayne run away in tears. Pedro Armendariz provides us with the best non-Leiter ally, and the scenes between him and Connery always make me smile. Picking up where Dr. No left off in terms of SPECTRE plot elements, we get our first (partial) glimpse of Blofeld (gotta love the fighting fish scene), and Vladek Sheybal as master planner Kronsteen knocks my socks off. Daniela Bianchi is wonderful as said love from Russia, Tatiana Romanova, but in the end, Robert Shaw is the best part of this film. Not only do he and Connery execute one of the greatest fight scenes in cinema history, but he's probably the most physically imposing and dangerous character in the films (yes, more than Jaws). The film also provides us with the best 30-Second Bunnies line: "The decoder weighs 10 kilos. James! Make love to me!"
1. Casino Royale—When I watched the film for the first time, I failed to see Daniel Craig. I saw only James Bond. While that happened to some degree with Dalton, the impression of seeing what is so close to my personal vision of Bond has never been so powerful. Craig evokes all of the elements of how Fleming created Bond, how the movies adapted him, and, most importantly, how I view him. Spookily enough, Eva Green (let's all take a minute to sigh longingly) is almost exactly how I pictured Vesper when I was a 9-year-old reading the novel for the first time. This is an almost perfect film (it would have been perfect had it, you know, never ended). I saw it 14 times at the screen, and from the B&W teaser sequence to the final scene (which is the greatest ending of any movie), I love it more with every viewing. If you dislike this movie, we'll need to have a talk, and when I say that, I mean I'll be doing the talking. In short, James Bond Has Returned.
And I for one can't wait to see where I'll put Quantum of Solace.
Actually, I'm looking for just that: a bit of peace from the rabid Bond fans out there, who in spite of being blown away by Casino Royale, still find the time, energy, and vitriol to post all of the things wrong with Quantum of Solace that will have nothing to do with how good the movie is.
For example, fans are all a-twitter that Mr. Craig won't be uttering the most famous line of introduction in all of cinema: "The name is Bond. James Bond."
And I ask you this: who cares? How is it that the fate of this film's quality rests on six words? Seriously? We're agitated by this? Dear me. I mean, I take the Bondian world more seriously than most, but that's such a bewilderingly petty thing on which to fixate. I could attack it from a purist's (i.e. loyal to the novels) point of view and cite the fact that he did not introduce himself that way in every single one of Fleming's tales. Why should I, though? It. Doesn't. Matter.
Let's talk about the song. Oh, yes...the theme song: yet another component on which the quality of the film does not rest. You can have a great song without the film to match (A View to a Kill or Live and Let Die, anyone?) or vice versa (can't say I'm the biggest fan of From Russia with Love's theme, though it's certainly not bad).
Which brings us to the first duet in Bond history: the inimitable Jack White and Alicia Keys (to whom I give no adjective, since I had no real feeling for her before this song) with "Another Way to Die." To be honest, the first time I heard this song, I was pretty neutral to it. It certainly wasn't--as many fans claim--as actively awful as Madonna's "Die Another Day," but it was no "GoldenEye" or "You Know My Name" either.
Again, I can defend this on rational grounds: 1) like "You Know My Name," "Another Way to Die" sounds as though the lyrics perfectly suit some of the things we can expect to see in the film, and 2) upon further reflection, Jack White's composition is a wonderfully modern homage to John Barry's score for On Her Majesty's Secret Service.
Again, though--it doesn't matter. The film won't be made by that credit sequence over which an inevitably truncated version of this track will play.
So let's talk about the final bit of controversy: the run time. How dare they give us the shortest running Bond film (QoS) immediately after the longest (CR)! This from people who've likely never seen a film by Budd Boetticher. A 78-minute Bond film? Believe it or not, I'd love to see how that would play.
To the issue at hand, though, this is the one potential flaw of the upcoming Bond film. Granted, if they end up having needed to tell more story than they did, then the shorter run time is definitely a factor. However, if 1 hour and 45 minutes isn't enough time...
After all, if I'm honest with myself and you, good reader, the Bond films as a whole are much too long. There. I've said it.
Forgive me. Taking a deep breath before resuming.
Look at what is now the next shortest film: Goldfinger. Everyone's darling example of what a Bond film should be, clocking in as 1 hour 50 minutes. Watch it again sometime. Then come back and tell me how surprised you were at how slow it was. And I'll say, "I know. I noticed that too."
Again, we haven't seen Quantum of Solace yet, so let's not pre-judge. Stow the vulture shtick and do what I do. Look forward to it like it's going to be the best Bond yet. After all, isn't that what real fans do? Sure, we all have our preferences, our tastes, our idiosyncrasies, but at the end of the day, we look forward. We anticipate. We ready ourselves for a great experience, which always gives me more than a bit of peace.
I'm also given a bit of peace by the fact that my Bond-fan-friends do not fall into that variety I've described above. Indeed, I'm considering wiping the floor with some of those fans at a Bond trivia contest at the Sundance Theater in Madison on November 11 (For prizes, kids! Prizes!). I believe it's teams of three. If you're a friend and a Bond aficionado, do let me know if you'd like to join me for this. I'm on the fence about it at present.
One last thing. Those of you who've read my old post on my ranking of the Bond films with capsule reviews can skip what's ahead, as it's a rehash from my old blog. For those of you who haven't seen it before...well...if you're finding yourself woefully underexposed to the Bond catalogue--or you're just wondering what the hell I'm thinking--then let me give you an idea of how they all stack up.
You won't find the original versions of Casino Royale here or Never Say Never Again, since none of them are canon. Yes. Canon. I'm serious. As to the other 21, here we go:
21. The Man with the Golden Gun—Christopher Lee is really the only force opposing the onslaught of poor pacing, the ennui-packed plotting, and the racist rants of Sheriff J.W. Pepper. I suppose Roger Moore is good in his more serious moments, but he's given wholly stupid allies and an exclusively disapproving M (I prefer M in more of the paternal role). If there's one Bond I wouldn't recommend, this is it.
20. Diamonds Are Forever—Charles Gray as Blofeld. Uh-uh. Blofeld in drag. Uh-uh. Bond in a moon buggy pursued by three-wheelers. Strike 3, kids! Even so, Jill St. John is fetching, and for whatever reason I find Wint & Kidd amusing. Sean Connery is back, but only to slightly good effect. It's fair to say the first half of the movie is much more interesting than the second, but this is not the follow-up to On Her Majesty's Secret Service that I wanted to see.
19. Moonraker—Not the worst Bond film ever—I'm just as surprised as you are. Set aside the absurdity of Bond in space, as well as the name Holly Goodhead (insert your giggle here). Michael Lonsdale gives a fantastic performance as Drax, and Moore is able to inject some much needed gravitas (weirdly enough) into the proceedings. Yes, yes, the gondola leaps from canal to land, but somehow it just fits here. And the wrist gun…well…I thought that was the height of cool when I was 8.
18. A View to a Kill—Starring Roger Moore's stuntman, it's true, but the Silicon Valley/earthquake plot has always fascinated me (reminiscent of Lex Luthor's schemes). Walken is Walken—seldom a bad thing—and the film excels when Moore and Walken are sharing the screen. The fight on the Golden Gate at the end and the City Hall fire sequence still excite me to this day. Certainly, Tanya Roberts is dreadful, but the Duran Duran theme compensates somewhat.
17. Live and Let Die—Seriously underrated in almost every way and in many ways grittier and more serious than For Your Eyes Only. Moore begins his tenure coolly and with true panache. Seeing Quarrel, Jr., helping Bond in the field still makes me smile. Jane Seymour's character is fascinating both for her innocence and her clairvoyance. Additionally, I give you three words: Yaphet Kotto, baby. And the theme? KICK ASS. On the down side, no Q, no scope frame, and some frightening stereotypes (both black and white).
16. Die Another Day—It's the lost masterpiece of the franchise. The first hour is some of the best Bond ever. And then we hit the ice palace. Even after I say those things, it's not really fair to draw such a sharp line divvying up the film's successes from its failures (as many have). I think the movie had an incredibly timely plot, a fantastic performance by Brosnan (who, after finding his true stride in The World Is Not Enough, exuded a kind of confidence in the role all but surpassing his predecessors), and a mostly compelling supporting cast (particularly Toby Stephens and Rosamund Pike). If only I could go back and recut the film, the main problem would disappear—Halle Berry. Seriously, if she's supposed to be Bond's equal, then why is she: a) always having to be rescued by him, and b) not particularly smart or witty? Couldn't they have just brought Michelle Yeoh back?
15. You Only Live Twice—While people claim Goldfinger as the quintessential Bond film, I can't help but think that a great many people's impressions of Bond are as equally shaped by this film. Pleasance's Blofeld, the volcano base, being bathed by bikini-clad beauties—it's all here! (For Mike Myers to remind us!) Connery is still fantastic, but it's easy to tell he's a little tired of the role. All in all, it's a hugely fun picture (Little Nellie! Oh, she's a wonderful girl!). My only gripes—the pacing's off at times, and the head of Japanese SIS should not ever seem like an idiot.
14. Octopussy—Following the mostly serious For Your Eyes Only, this film puts more of the silly back into the fray. I gotta say—it still works somehow. Moore, aging though he is, pulls off both the intensity and the frivolity of Bond with equal aplomb. Louis Jordan makes for an appealing if not altogether compelling villain, and Maud Adams (as the titular character, the title itself no doubt what ensured the film's success on home video) is leaps and bounds more fascinating than her character in The Man with the Golden Gun. On the down side, there are too many fucking circus clowns.
13. Thunderball—SPECTRE is at its best here, stealing atomic bombs to extort money from the governments of the world (always a great plan, kids). Adolfo Celi has the right amount of menace (that eye patch doesn't hurt), and Luciana Paluzzi (insert longing here) is absolutely stunning as Fiona Volpe. Post-Goldfinger, Connery's got the role down cold and effortlessly maintains his swagger of comfort and cool. John Barry's score is particularly excellent. The movie drags in the underwater sequences, though, which causes the climax to feel rushed. Sadly, this was Terence Young's last feature in the series, and while this one wasn't on par with Dr. No or From Russia with Love, it would be a while before the films saw as skilled a director.
12. Dr. No—The template for all to follow, Dr. No holds up as a well-constructed straightforward espionage thriller. The film takes itself very seriously (perhaps a little too much so, but better to err on the serious side than the silly), and Connery's no different. To steal a line from the song "Mr. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang," while he's suave and he's smooth, and he can soothe you like vanilla, the gentleman's a killah. There's a rough quality to Connery that only adds to the menace already within Bond. Joseph Wiseman is great as the title character, exuding the kind of epic, elegant arrogance that he would bequeath to of all the great Bond villains. It's light on score variety but heavy on thrills. Oh, and Ms. Andress, you may rise from the sea now.
11. The Spy Who Loved Me—I know, I know! We'll remake You Only Live Twice and improve it! Essentially, that's what happened here. I'll always wonder how a straight adaptation of the novel would look (awkward as it would be). However, what Goldfinger is to Connery's run, this film is to Moore's. The Spy Who Loved Me shows us how underwater sequences should be shot (i.e. at a faster pace than Thunderball), and the final assault with Bond and all of the sub crews is still something that hasn't been equaled in subsequent films. Barbara Bach is a solid match for Roger Moore, and Richard Kiel gives us the man with the metal teeth. However, Marvin Hamlisch leaves a little to be desired (though I do have a soft spot for "Bond '77").
10. Tomorrow Never Dies—Oh, Michelle…I wanted you back so badly for another film. How could you leave us? Brosnan has some wonderful darker moments (I'm thinking particularly of the scene where he executes Vincent Schiavelli's character), and it's decidedly one of the most action-packed films in the whole series. Dame Judi makes for a less adversarial M here, which begins the transformation into a maternal figure that lasts to this day, proving her a more-than-worthy successor to Bernard Lee. Down side—Jonathan Pryce is a little absurd (that scene where he's slapping the keyboard with one hand pretending to type is embarrassing), and Teri Hatcher doesn't have the acting chops (or the lines, in fairness) to portray Bond's former love.
9. The World Is Not Enough—Again, one bad casting decision ruins an otherwise perfectly good movie. Denise Richards as a nuclear scientist. And, with lines like, "Someone's tampered with the bomb!" I just don't have the words, really. Take her out of the picture, though, and it would jump a few on the list. The reveal of the villain is easily the most satisfying in the series, and the picture overall feels more like a Fleming tale than the other Brosnan films. Sophie Marceau's more sophisticated and emotionally compelling performance makes up for Richards' "presence," and Robert Carlyle is icily impressive as the terrorist who can feel no pain. Brosnan is the real treasure here, though, giving what is perhaps the most quintessential interpretation of the movies' Bond.
On a sadder note, this was Desmond Llewellyn's last film as Q, as he died shortly after the picture was released. His last moment in the film, where he says, "Always have an escape plan," and then descends below the floor…I swear that scene makes me cry every single time I see it.
8. For Your Eyes Only—For my money, this is Moore's best film. From the very start, when we see him go to his wife's grave, we know this is going to be a different Bond than Moore has previously played.Moore has previously played. There are more thrills than frills in what is the most realistic story of Moore' tenure. Carole Bouquet is also the most fascinating of Moore's bevy of Bond Women as a daughter out to avenge the murder of her parents. While the film's villain (John Glover) isn't terribly compelling on his own, it's the history between him and Bond's eventual ally (Topol) that makes the film remarkable. Well, that and the ski chases…with the motorcycles and the bobsled. And Roger Moore acting his age. ("Now you put your clothes on, and I'll buy you an ice cream.") Down side: the score. Not the song. The score.
7. GoldenEye—"There is no substitute," read the teaser poster. Damn right. Bond had been absent from the screen for 6 years (how I survived is beyond me), and Pierce Brosnan and Martin Campbell brought him back with an earth-shattering bang. Upon recent viewing, the film did seem a little more dated to me than it had, but it's still Brosnan's best. I fell in love with Famke Janssen here as the charmingly psychotic and absurdly named Xenia Onatopp (being crushed by her thighs mid-coitus would be an acceptable way to go). Izabella Scorupco was a good romantic match for Brosnan (their scene on the beach, when she's basically criticizing everything Bond's out to do, is one of my favorites in the film and the series). Ultimately, though, props go to Sean Bean as Alec Trevelyan, Agent 006. Having Bond face a former 00—more than that, an old friend—remains of the best ideas in Bond history. On the down side, Eric Serra's "experimental" score, a bit of a sag in the middle, and seeing Joe Don Baker's ass cheek. On the up side, Brosnan slid into Bond's suit as though he'd always been wearing it.
6. Goldfinger—As damn near everybody says, this is the quintessential Bond film. I suppose that's accurate. The argument could be made that, once this film came along, you could combine portions of it and the first two films and get any of the later films. Gert Frobe was the best villain of the Connery run. "No, Mr. Bond. I expect you to die!" Really, does it get much better than that? This is the kind of megalomaniacal eloquence we expect from our Bond villains. And Honor Blackman as Pussy Galore…well...little more need be said, I suppose. We get the interplay between Bond and Q here, as well as the Aston Martin DB5 (with modifications). It's true: the movie mostly fires on all cylinders, but it loses serious points for Cec Linder's lame, aw-shucks portrayal of Felix Leiter, Bond's vomitous blue bathrobe and indictment of The Beatles, and the grandma packing a machine gun. And as I said above, it's just too slow for being now the second shortest film in the series.
5. The Living Daylights—While I remember seeing A View to a Kill in the theatres, this is the first Bond film that had a true impact on me. Admittedly, even though there's a lot to like in this film, Timothy Dalton was the biggest reason for that impact. Here was a man who was willing to bring Fleming's character to the screen—fortunate for me, since I was 9 at the time and had already read most of Fleming's novels. Like Casino Royale would later do, The Living Daylights takes the source story and expands the plot to make for an elaborate espionage picture. I agree with the criticism that there are too many villains with none to take center stage, but complaints that the plot is too complicated are just plain ridiculous. Spy films should be complex, people. I like Maryam d'Abo here as one of the more vulnerable Bond Women; hers is a solid performance, and she and Dalton exude good chemistry. In addition, this was the film that proved that a-Ha was a 3-hit wonder instead of a 2-hit wonder.
4. On Her Majesty's Secret Service—Everyone gives George Lazenby shit (myself included). Everyone should keep two things in mind, though. 1) It took balls to follow Connery. 2) Lazenby wasn't an actor, and thus wasn't given time to develop the character beyond this film. That said, he brings a powerful physicality to the role (those fight scenes never happened to the other fella). Diana Rigg, as Bond's one true love, at once proves his match in playfulness and in darkness, and both their marriage and the tragedy thereafter are consistently moving sequences. And who knew Kojak would make the best Blofeld? John Barry's score provides the perfect accompaniment to both the action (from Bond's escape from Blofeld's mountain base to the final assault) and the romance (particularly when Bond proposes). Some of the scenes with Blofeld's girls are tiresome, and one wishes for a tighter continuity with You Only Live Twice (Bond and Blofeld have met before, you know), but ultimately, even without Connery in the role, it's the most epic film of the series.
3. Licence to Kill—Alright, alright, let's get it out of the way: the film looks dated, the bar fight is a little awkward, and it's got Wayne Newton. There. That's all that's bad about Licence to Kill in my humble opinion (and Wayne Newton isn't that bad). For a long time, this was my favorite Bond film and the closest to Fleming it got. I've always liked Michael Wilson's description of this film as the Yojimbo of the Bond series. A spy-gone-rogue set up gets me every time. The film's also got arguably the strongest Bond Woman in Carey Lowell, a beautiful and tough-as-nails informant who's able to come to Bond's rescue for a change. And Robert Davi exemplifies my vision of the mirror-Bond villain. The relationship between Bond and his best friend, Felix Leiter, was never better realized than in this picture. Dalton too came into his own, giving the single strongest performance of the series next to Daniel Craig.
2. From Russia with Love—Without a doubt, the best of the Connery films. In terms of sheer espionage, it gives Casino Royale a run for its money and may actually exceed it in that respect. Connery looks so tough here that he would have made John Wayne run away in tears. Pedro Armendariz provides us with the best non-Leiter ally, and the scenes between him and Connery always make me smile. Picking up where Dr. No left off in terms of SPECTRE plot elements, we get our first (partial) glimpse of Blofeld (gotta love the fighting fish scene), and Vladek Sheybal as master planner Kronsteen knocks my socks off. Daniela Bianchi is wonderful as said love from Russia, Tatiana Romanova, but in the end, Robert Shaw is the best part of this film. Not only do he and Connery execute one of the greatest fight scenes in cinema history, but he's probably the most physically imposing and dangerous character in the films (yes, more than Jaws). The film also provides us with the best 30-Second Bunnies line: "The decoder weighs 10 kilos. James! Make love to me!"
1. Casino Royale—When I watched the film for the first time, I failed to see Daniel Craig. I saw only James Bond. While that happened to some degree with Dalton, the impression of seeing what is so close to my personal vision of Bond has never been so powerful. Craig evokes all of the elements of how Fleming created Bond, how the movies adapted him, and, most importantly, how I view him. Spookily enough, Eva Green (let's all take a minute to sigh longingly) is almost exactly how I pictured Vesper when I was a 9-year-old reading the novel for the first time. This is an almost perfect film (it would have been perfect had it, you know, never ended). I saw it 14 times at the screen, and from the B&W teaser sequence to the final scene (which is the greatest ending of any movie), I love it more with every viewing. If you dislike this movie, we'll need to have a talk, and when I say that, I mean I'll be doing the talking. In short, James Bond Has Returned.
And I for one can't wait to see where I'll put Quantum of Solace.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Perhaps You Didn't Know, But...
Hmmmm. Yes, well...we'll see about that. And perhaps sooner than you might think.
Oh, don't worry, kids.
I'll return to less vexed verbosity soon enough, with such fascinating topics as my thoughts on Bond fans (hint: they make comic nerds look pretty sane sometimes), a meeting with Steve Rude, my disappointment in the International Mind Sports Association, bemused wonderment at the power of sentence fragments, an in-depth analysis of a few panels and gutters...
...and why--when robots do battle with donuts--we all win.
Meantime? Crooked Little Vein and sleep will do battle to hold sway over me. I bid you all a good night (or a good whatever time of day you find your eyes upon my meager text).
Sunday, September 28, 2008
In Memoriam
Another great. Gone.
My dad took me to see The Color of Money when I was eight years old. While The Hustler is a vastly superior film, that 1986 film was the first time I met Fast Eddie Felson. And amidst the many characters that have come and gone and occupied important places in my life, Fast Eddie's always been there. And he'll never leave.
But Mr. Newman? The only thing I'd add to all the wonderful things that he's said and that have been said about him, is that it's a difficult thing to be that good a gent while being that cool a gent.
And he did it as effortlessly as the smoothest straight shot to the pocket.
And the world's a lesser place for his leaving it.
Like Fast Eddie said, "It's just like one of those things that you never think about...but can make your day like electricity."
Spiro Was a Good Cat
I've had an awful couple of weeks, spent either doing too much navel-gazing or cleaning up the messes of others. In fact, I'm so full of regret and exhaustion that, quite absent-mindedly, I almost combed my hair with my razor today.
And if I ever get up off my lazy ass and get to writing seriously, that'll make a great first line of a story someday.
There have been a scant few moments of joy along the way. Here's one.
I was on the phone with my father two Wednesdays ago. To quote Fitzgerald, my father and I have "always been unusually communicative in a reserved way." I was talking to him about a whole host of things, including the fact that I'm thinking about getting a pet for the first time in a long time.
I'm going to get a cat; I'm just not sure when. Certainly not now, because my apartment complex doesn't allow cats if they're not de-clawed, and I won't have a de-clawed cat. I understand why people think that's a good idea; I'm just not one of those people. I think it's cruel.
Anyway, as I'm going on about wanting to get my first pet in over 10 years, out of nowhere he tells me this story about a cat named Spiro (yes, kids, for that Agnew guy). Incredulous at the fact that he'd had a cat named Spiro, I just had to hear more.
Now, as you read the following, it's even better if you can hear my dad's voice. For those of you who haven't met him, think of my voice lowered an octave and a touch more on the brusque side.
"Yep, I had a cat named Spiro. He actually belonged to all of us--me, Gary and Jon (his best friends and roommates at the time). Now, you see, the thing about Spiro was he loved to hang out on our spiral staircase. He'd just plant himself in about the middle of the stairs, which were those open air jobs (the kind without risers). Whenever one of us would walk by, cool cat that he was, he'd quietly try to swipe our toupees. 'Course, the problem was none of us had toupees, you know?"
And I was laughing. Just couldn't help myself. It was the first time I'd laughed in, oh, 72 hours or so. And my dad did what anyone who'd received laughter from his storytelling would do: he continued.
"Ah, but there was one night, when Gary had some people over from work. And one of the poor guys walked under the staircase on his way to the bathroom. And ol' Spiro's just sittin' there, king of the whole place. And once that guy went under him, sure enough: THWIP! Off comes that guy's rug, and Spiro fuckin' bolts, man. I mean, he rockets up that staircase, and the guy's goin' apeshit chasin' after him."
I was, at this point, laughing hysterically.
"Spiro hides under the dresser upstairs, and oh no: he's not lettin' go of that toup. Gary ran up there after them, apoplectic as he could be, and he tried to get it back from Spiro. Me and Jon are just laughin' it up. Now, after a good little fight, Spiro let go of it, but not before he'd chewed a hole right through the middle of it.
"Yeah...Spiro was a good cat."
Was there some deeper meaning to all this? Of course not. It's merely a funny story, at least to me. So why did I preface it all with that Gatsby quote? Because one of the things about my father is that he knows that, regardless of how awful things are for me, sometimes all I need is a good story.
This good story suffers from my retelling, but I post it nonetheless. I hope it's been worth your time to read it.
Read: I Never Sang for My Father, by Robert Anderson
Watch: Redbelt (dir. David Mamet, 2008)
Listen to: Still, Moving, Light, by Simon Fisher Turner
And if I ever get up off my lazy ass and get to writing seriously, that'll make a great first line of a story someday.
There have been a scant few moments of joy along the way. Here's one.
I was on the phone with my father two Wednesdays ago. To quote Fitzgerald, my father and I have "always been unusually communicative in a reserved way." I was talking to him about a whole host of things, including the fact that I'm thinking about getting a pet for the first time in a long time.
I'm going to get a cat; I'm just not sure when. Certainly not now, because my apartment complex doesn't allow cats if they're not de-clawed, and I won't have a de-clawed cat. I understand why people think that's a good idea; I'm just not one of those people. I think it's cruel.
Anyway, as I'm going on about wanting to get my first pet in over 10 years, out of nowhere he tells me this story about a cat named Spiro (yes, kids, for that Agnew guy). Incredulous at the fact that he'd had a cat named Spiro, I just had to hear more.
Now, as you read the following, it's even better if you can hear my dad's voice. For those of you who haven't met him, think of my voice lowered an octave and a touch more on the brusque side.
"Yep, I had a cat named Spiro. He actually belonged to all of us--me, Gary and Jon (his best friends and roommates at the time). Now, you see, the thing about Spiro was he loved to hang out on our spiral staircase. He'd just plant himself in about the middle of the stairs, which were those open air jobs (the kind without risers). Whenever one of us would walk by, cool cat that he was, he'd quietly try to swipe our toupees. 'Course, the problem was none of us had toupees, you know?"
And I was laughing. Just couldn't help myself. It was the first time I'd laughed in, oh, 72 hours or so. And my dad did what anyone who'd received laughter from his storytelling would do: he continued.
"Ah, but there was one night, when Gary had some people over from work. And one of the poor guys walked under the staircase on his way to the bathroom. And ol' Spiro's just sittin' there, king of the whole place. And once that guy went under him, sure enough: THWIP! Off comes that guy's rug, and Spiro fuckin' bolts, man. I mean, he rockets up that staircase, and the guy's goin' apeshit chasin' after him."
I was, at this point, laughing hysterically.
"Spiro hides under the dresser upstairs, and oh no: he's not lettin' go of that toup. Gary ran up there after them, apoplectic as he could be, and he tried to get it back from Spiro. Me and Jon are just laughin' it up. Now, after a good little fight, Spiro let go of it, but not before he'd chewed a hole right through the middle of it.
"Yeah...Spiro was a good cat."
Was there some deeper meaning to all this? Of course not. It's merely a funny story, at least to me. So why did I preface it all with that Gatsby quote? Because one of the things about my father is that he knows that, regardless of how awful things are for me, sometimes all I need is a good story.
This good story suffers from my retelling, but I post it nonetheless. I hope it's been worth your time to read it.
Read: I Never Sang for My Father, by Robert Anderson
Watch: Redbelt (dir. David Mamet, 2008)
Listen to: Still, Moving, Light, by Simon Fisher Turner
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Passage
That was the rule. All the world could turn on them, but D-Ops would always defend the Minders. At the cost of prospects, career, friends, liberty, life, Crocker would protect them. He would sacrifice everything for them, because that was what he expected in return, that was the agreement. He would order them over the hills and far away, then demand the impossible of them upon their arrival. And Chace, and Poole, and perhaps one day Lankford, too, would give it to him without hesitation, without questioning the reasons or the merits or the causes; they would do as ordered, as they were expected. They would go, and they would even die, if he demanded it.
And in return, Crocker sheltered them, guarded them, fought for them, lied for them. All of Whitehall could turn on the Special Section, but Crocker would remain, lone against the tide, to give cover to his Minders.
Crocker would protect her.
She fell asleep.
--Greg Rucka, A Gentleman's Game
This is how things are supposed to be. But they're not. Take whatever meaning you like from that.
And in return, Crocker sheltered them, guarded them, fought for them, lied for them. All of Whitehall could turn on the Special Section, but Crocker would remain, lone against the tide, to give cover to his Minders.
Crocker would protect her.
She fell asleep.
--Greg Rucka, A Gentleman's Game
This is how things are supposed to be. But they're not. Take whatever meaning you like from that.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
I've Read Watchmen, Too
A while back, I came across this story on Newsarama: http://www.newsarama.com/comics/080828-AfterWatchmen.html
This brief article posits next steps for new comic readers after reading Watchmen, those novice 'mics readers presumably dashing to better bookstores everywhere in fevered anticipation of the film coming to a theater near everyone in March.
Before I go off on my little rant here, let me first say that I love the book. It's far from my favorite comic, but any reader with half a brain will tell you what a seminal work it is for graphic storytelling. I'm also simply blown away by the fact that a teaser trailer for the film is moving so much paper. And heartening as it is to see stacks of Watchmen flying off the shelves--be it at a comic shop or at a Borders--my fear is this:
If you're starting out with Watchmen, you're never going to want to go near another comic book ever again.
No disrespect to the retailer who provided the article, but I would NEVER send a new comic reader immediately to Alan Moore (with 1 exception), or Grant Morrison for that matter. Maybe I'm wrong. True, Watchmen has few continuity obstacles, but it also belongs to a very specific time in comics history and is, in several ways, much too cumbersome a work to hurl into a new comic reader's hands and say, "Hey, newbie! This is what comics are all about! En-joy."
People need to go gently into that good night.
I know, I know. Opinions are like assholes. So let me be an asshole and give you my opinion.
The books below are, in my view, all perfectly reasonable--and reasonably perfect--jumping off points to read comics. I feel there's a solid mix of styles below, though all of the titles very clearly play to my sensibilities. The scripts possess no substantial continuity problems for the reader to tackle. The panel construction is readily decipherable (something I've given quite a bit of thought to over the past couple of years, as I've introduced or re-introduced several of my friends to comics).
And, perhaps most importantly, while Watchmen may be tossed around by the cartooning cognoscenti as comics for smart people, only the most ignorant of readers deny the intelligence to be found in a story simply told.
This is also not to say that what I've listed below are my absolute favorite books. For example, you won't find books like DC: The New Frontier or Identity Crisis on this, because they both require a working knowledge of the scope of the DC Universe. Even so...
Alright. Enough disclaimer-esque foreplay. Want to start (or restart) reading comics? These'll suit you right down to the ground:
Here we go, in no particular order...
1) Superman: For All Seasons, by Jeph Loeb & Tim Sale
2) Batman: Year One, by Frank Miller & David Mazzucchelli
3) A Contract with God, by Will Eisner
4) Queen & Country, Vol. 1: Operation Broken Ground, by Greg Rucka & Steve Rolston
5) Fell, Vol. 1: Feral City, by Warren Ellis & Ben Templesmith
6) Rising Stars, by J. Michael Straczynski et al
7) The Amazing Spider-Man, by Stan Lee & Steve Ditko
8) Marvels, by Kurt Busiek & Alex Ross
9) Persepolis, by Marjane Satrapi
10) Concrete, by Paul Chadwick
11) The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Vol. 1, by Alan Moore & Kevin O'Neill
12) The Lone Ranger, by Brett Matthews et al
13) Jack Kirby's Fourth World Saga, by Jack Kirby
14) Athena Voltaire: Flight of the Falcon, by Steve Bryant
15) Grendel, by Matt Wagner
16) Criminal, by Ed Brubaker & Sean Philips
17) Peanuts, by Charles Schultz
18) Y: The Last Man, by Brian K. Vaughan & Pia Guerra
19) Shortcomings, by Adrian Tomine
20) Exit Wounds, by Rutu Modan
Let me know what you think of this list, particularly if you read any of these for the first time. I'll try to write more on each title at a later date.
As I said, while many of them are, not all of these are my absolute favorites. However, maybe one or more of them can serve as a good first step...to you finding your own.
Read: um, any of the above, eh?
Watch: I'll Sleep When I'm Dead (dir. Mike Hodges, 2003)
Listen to: Do You Believe in Gosh?, by Mitch Hedberg (may he rest in peace)
This brief article posits next steps for new comic readers after reading Watchmen, those novice 'mics readers presumably dashing to better bookstores everywhere in fevered anticipation of the film coming to a theater near everyone in March.
Before I go off on my little rant here, let me first say that I love the book. It's far from my favorite comic, but any reader with half a brain will tell you what a seminal work it is for graphic storytelling. I'm also simply blown away by the fact that a teaser trailer for the film is moving so much paper. And heartening as it is to see stacks of Watchmen flying off the shelves--be it at a comic shop or at a Borders--my fear is this:
If you're starting out with Watchmen, you're never going to want to go near another comic book ever again.
No disrespect to the retailer who provided the article, but I would NEVER send a new comic reader immediately to Alan Moore (with 1 exception), or Grant Morrison for that matter. Maybe I'm wrong. True, Watchmen has few continuity obstacles, but it also belongs to a very specific time in comics history and is, in several ways, much too cumbersome a work to hurl into a new comic reader's hands and say, "Hey, newbie! This is what comics are all about! En-joy."
People need to go gently into that good night.
I know, I know. Opinions are like assholes. So let me be an asshole and give you my opinion.
The books below are, in my view, all perfectly reasonable--and reasonably perfect--jumping off points to read comics. I feel there's a solid mix of styles below, though all of the titles very clearly play to my sensibilities. The scripts possess no substantial continuity problems for the reader to tackle. The panel construction is readily decipherable (something I've given quite a bit of thought to over the past couple of years, as I've introduced or re-introduced several of my friends to comics).
And, perhaps most importantly, while Watchmen may be tossed around by the cartooning cognoscenti as comics for smart people, only the most ignorant of readers deny the intelligence to be found in a story simply told.
This is also not to say that what I've listed below are my absolute favorite books. For example, you won't find books like DC: The New Frontier or Identity Crisis on this, because they both require a working knowledge of the scope of the DC Universe. Even so...
Alright. Enough disclaimer-esque foreplay. Want to start (or restart) reading comics? These'll suit you right down to the ground:
Here we go, in no particular order...
1) Superman: For All Seasons, by Jeph Loeb & Tim Sale
2) Batman: Year One, by Frank Miller & David Mazzucchelli
3) A Contract with God, by Will Eisner
4) Queen & Country, Vol. 1: Operation Broken Ground, by Greg Rucka & Steve Rolston
5) Fell, Vol. 1: Feral City, by Warren Ellis & Ben Templesmith
6) Rising Stars, by J. Michael Straczynski et al
7) The Amazing Spider-Man, by Stan Lee & Steve Ditko
8) Marvels, by Kurt Busiek & Alex Ross
9) Persepolis, by Marjane Satrapi
10) Concrete, by Paul Chadwick
11) The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Vol. 1, by Alan Moore & Kevin O'Neill
12) The Lone Ranger, by Brett Matthews et al
13) Jack Kirby's Fourth World Saga, by Jack Kirby
14) Athena Voltaire: Flight of the Falcon, by Steve Bryant
15) Grendel, by Matt Wagner
16) Criminal, by Ed Brubaker & Sean Philips
17) Peanuts, by Charles Schultz
18) Y: The Last Man, by Brian K. Vaughan & Pia Guerra
19) Shortcomings, by Adrian Tomine
20) Exit Wounds, by Rutu Modan
Let me know what you think of this list, particularly if you read any of these for the first time. I'll try to write more on each title at a later date.
As I said, while many of them are, not all of these are my absolute favorites. However, maybe one or more of them can serve as a good first step...to you finding your own.
Read: um, any of the above, eh?
Watch: I'll Sleep When I'm Dead (dir. Mike Hodges, 2003)
Listen to: Do You Believe in Gosh?, by Mitch Hedberg (may he rest in peace)
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
No Goatees, Injustice Leagues, or Other Assorted Apocalypses
A quick one, as slumber's calling...
On September 10, the Large Hadron Collider at CERN was activated. And no black hole opened up and swallowed us all.
It may surprise some of you to hear this from me, but there's a small part of me that's sad that there was no black hole. Truly.
I mean, what a way to go: activating an underground machine in the noblest of pursuits--to understand the universe--which in turn boomerangs humanity's collective ass and throws us all a quantum middle finger on the way out.
Instead, maybe we're just a stride closer to discovering the shape of reality.
Which I'm hoping really is a theoretical snowflake existing in 196,833 dimensional space.
Read: Planetary, by Warren Ellis & John Cassaday
Watch: Papillon (dir. Franklin J. Schaffner, 1973)
Listen to: O, by Tilly and the Wall
On September 10, the Large Hadron Collider at CERN was activated. And no black hole opened up and swallowed us all.
It may surprise some of you to hear this from me, but there's a small part of me that's sad that there was no black hole. Truly.
I mean, what a way to go: activating an underground machine in the noblest of pursuits--to understand the universe--which in turn boomerangs humanity's collective ass and throws us all a quantum middle finger on the way out.
Instead, maybe we're just a stride closer to discovering the shape of reality.
Which I'm hoping really is a theoretical snowflake existing in 196,833 dimensional space.
Read: Planetary, by Warren Ellis & John Cassaday
Watch: Papillon (dir. Franklin J. Schaffner, 1973)
Listen to: O, by Tilly and the Wall
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
James...Move Your Ass.
Once again, I post this link for a reason. You should know what this means.
http://www.007.com/
Check out the new trailer, kids. Now!
What more do I need to say?
T-Minus 66 days and counting.
http://www.007.com/
Check out the new trailer, kids. Now!
What more do I need to say?
T-Minus 66 days and counting.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Shotgun Full of Buck-thought
Another smattering for you. Here we go.
Apparently the word "millennials," as a reference to Gen-Y'ers, has been around since the early 90s. I only heard it for the first time this past week. I bloody hate it. I mean, it makes our generation sound like we're on a space-faring quest for some crystal city or some such nonsense as that.
You know, there's nothing like a good French gangster film to make you (meaning me) feel utterly grand. Especially if it's got Jean Gabin or Alain Delon. Or Jean Gabin AND Alain Delon.
Singin' in the Rain will also make you feel grand. I watched it in 35mm last night. If you don't walk out of that film with a smile on your face, um, check your pulse. There were three times where the audience applauded. Now, I've never been afraid to applaud for a movie, but I confess to feeling always a bit awkward when I do applaud. No reason to feel awkward, though. An audience breaking into applause is the same thing as the stars breaking into song. Our emotions can't be contained by our thoughts, our feelings, and our widespread smiles any longer, just like--as a friend once told me--the characters' emotions are so full that they can only be expressed in song.
Most of you who know me know that I'm not easily offended by violence. Indeed, I'll say it: I like it. In my movies, comics, etc., of course. In life...not really, no. But in fiction, oh yes. So, how can a comic book cross the line?
Books I need to reread soon (can't say why, just need to):
Apparently the word "millennials," as a reference to Gen-Y'ers, has been around since the early 90s. I only heard it for the first time this past week. I bloody hate it. I mean, it makes our generation sound like we're on a space-faring quest for some crystal city or some such nonsense as that.
You know, there's nothing like a good French gangster film to make you (meaning me) feel utterly grand. Especially if it's got Jean Gabin or Alain Delon. Or Jean Gabin AND Alain Delon.
Singin' in the Rain will also make you feel grand. I watched it in 35mm last night. If you don't walk out of that film with a smile on your face, um, check your pulse. There were three times where the audience applauded. Now, I've never been afraid to applaud for a movie, but I confess to feeling always a bit awkward when I do applaud. No reason to feel awkward, though. An audience breaking into applause is the same thing as the stars breaking into song. Our emotions can't be contained by our thoughts, our feelings, and our widespread smiles any longer, just like--as a friend once told me--the characters' emotions are so full that they can only be expressed in song.
Most of you who know me know that I'm not easily offended by violence. Indeed, I'll say it: I like it. In my movies, comics, etc., of course. In life...not really, no. But in fiction, oh yes. So, how can a comic book cross the line?
If this were a book by Warren Ellis or Garth Ennis, I wouldn't think twice. I expect this kind of ultraviolent gore from those esteemed gents. (Well, Warren's esteemed, at least.) But in a little ol' DC comic called Teen Titans, whose title would ostensibly intend it for people of a teen demographic, it's just plain wrong. I don't care that it's a dream sequence. I don't care that it's a villainous character and she's just doing her thing. This is just plain unnecessary. Although, in a way, I'm kind of grateful. It saves me 3 bucks a month, after all. This sort of crap actually does have wider implications for mainstream comics, and I would point you here for more: http://occasionalsuperheroine.blogspot.com/2008/08/in-this-issuewendy-and-marvin-die.html. She pretty much says all that I want to, and where she mentions there being "no in-between?" That's an ongoing concern for me, which I'll probably talk more about another time.
Current needs: some tennis matches, a trip to a large city, a good freeware program for DVD screen captures on the PC. Oh, and ribs.
Rewatching The Sandbaggers. Dear God, I hope I'm not as dour as Neil Burnside ten years from now...though working for SIS wouldn't be all bad. And I have such better looking hair...
Working on another list for you good folks. This one's a list of the 20 best books to start with if you've either never read comics or haven't read them in a while. Coming soon to a monitor near you.
As much as I'm TV'ed out right now, I went on and started The Office (the US version). I finished the first season. You were all right: taking a break between the British version and this one was a very good idea.Books I need to reread soon (can't say why, just need to):
- Light in August, by William Faulkner
- Gun, with Occasional Music, by Jonathan Lethem
- Minotaur, by Benjamin Tammuz
Sunday, August 31, 2008
A Third Brief Intermission
I was caught completely off guard by tonight's episode of Mad Men, in which the following quote caused an eruption of laughter that I'm certain woke any of my slumbering neighbors:
"Well, Marilyn is really a Joan, not the other way around."
For those of you who watch the show, I think you'll agree: truer words...
For those of you who don't watch the show...get to it. You'll see what I mean.
I love how laughter can be knowing, yet still surprising.
We now resume our regularly scheduled programming.
Read: No Borders, No Limits: Nikkatsu Action Cinema, by Mark Schilling
Watch: Two Men in Town (dir. Jose Giovanni, 1973)
Listen to: Back to Me, by Kathleen Edwards
"Well, Marilyn is really a Joan, not the other way around."
For those of you who watch the show, I think you'll agree: truer words...
For those of you who don't watch the show...get to it. You'll see what I mean.
I love how laughter can be knowing, yet still surprising.
We now resume our regularly scheduled programming.
Read: No Borders, No Limits: Nikkatsu Action Cinema, by Mark Schilling
Watch: Two Men in Town (dir. Jose Giovanni, 1973)
Listen to: Back to Me, by Kathleen Edwards
Saturday, August 30, 2008
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