----I am compelled to note that there may be spoilers ahead. If you care.----
Have just finished watching Casino Royale. I just have a few questions. And a comment or two.
1- What, oh what, is up with Daniel Craig's accent? One minute it's American, the next it's northern Europe, the next it's London's East Side. (All right: east, west, whatever. Like I even know.)
2- That chick at The Ocean Club? Mrs. Demetrios? You could grate cheese on her chest, that's how sharp the ribs were, poking out of her plunging neckline. I mean, I know thin is in, but I'm asking whether anyone actually finds this attractive? Aren't they afraid they might poke their eyes out on her clavicles? Or maybe lose their manhood by careless handling of her razor-sharp hipbones?
3- Who is this guy my boy Daniel was chasing through the construction site in Madagascar at the beginning: Spiderman? Dude was comin' out all Cirque du Soleil style, doing superpower flips and jumps and with the amazing stamina, I thought he was on drugs. I seriously did. I was watching this and first of all said, aloud, "I have not seen such impressive hijinks and tricks since Buffy", and then thought "Okay, we're setting up the plot here - this is going to be 'Bond against a sinister band of international steroid profiteers.'"
4- To the executive producer, or whoever is in charge of casting, a few guidelines:
- Muscles do not a leading man make.
- Ditto for a craggy countenance.
- When a man is that honed, the viewer really notices the ears. Give it some thought. Slightly longer hair, maybe?
- Fleming's Bond is charming. A nice, enigmatic smile is a must. Goofy squint-eyed, toothy, Cletis-the-Slack-Jawed-Yokel smirk? not so sexy.
5- The whole tenderness thing with the girl and the yacht and the azure Adriatic was completely over the top. See number 4, above: this Bond had the emotional depth of a Tamagotchi. We, as viewers, were totally not invested in this contrived halcyon week of love, or whatever it was supposed to be, as Mr. Taut Biceps was just not making us feel it. We were using the little light to check our watches. People were whispering to their seatmates, "Whoa, that Big Gulp just caught up with me - back in a sec." We were all drumming our fingers, waiting for the ax to fall and find out just how many sides this chick was playing. Which brings me to my next point.
6- To the writers: Try not to give quite so big a signal. We like to not know that the double-crossing, or what have you, is going on, if at all possible. We like to be surprised. Think Memento. Think Usual Suspects. Think the floor of the Bellagio vault.
7- Oh, and one more thing. I think MI-6 should invest in some first aid courses for their operatives. I mean, I know how to revive a newly-drowned person, and I spend my days sitting around knitting, reading "Richard Scarry's Biggest Word Book Ever" three times in a row, and washing dishes. I make Kraft Dinner almost every day, for goodness' sake. There is No Way a person like me should know more about CPR than a secret agent. Please. I can only suspend my disbelief so far, and I'm afraid the (drum roll) Amazing Flying Grandini Trapeze Show (see number 3, above) stretched it to the limit.
I need some good film, stat, to wash away this vile Hollywood taste. This situation might call for an emergency screening of my favourite movie. Or maybe my second favourite movie. Looks like I'll be up 'til 3:00 AM again.