If you’ve ever gone into work while sick only because you ran out of paid leave, the feeling your boss had while reviewing your half-assed job is a reasonable approximation of what most Bond fans will experience while watching the once-bulletproof team of director Sam Mendes and star Daniel Craig phone it in for Spectre. Overlong, underplotted, and only middlingly exciting, if Mendes and Craig didn’t want to be doing this anymore, they should have just left. The ensuing breach of contract court records would be much more engaging than Spectre’s odd mix of somberness and Roger Moore-era self-parody, and fighting to not make a movie at all instead of giving fans a bad one would have been much more heroic than any single act of contrived derring-do that 007 performs.
Put another way, Spectre is what happens when exceptionally creative people are given a lot of money but have nothing left to say or prove.
The film begins impressively with a lengthy, technically audacious unbroken shot placing Craig as Bond in Mexico during Day of the Dead celebrations, with the camera gliding seamlessly from aerial view to ground level. As Bond moves from location to location, the perspective and score adapt organically, establishing a feeling of suspense and excitement for how this sequence will pan out. Then the outcome: the least engaging action scene involving a helicopter this side of Terminator Genisys.
Whether through studio interference or a genuine lack of interest by the parties involved, this same abandonment of good ideas is found throughout Spectre’s 148- minute run time; Léa Seydoux is built up as a self-reliant, fully capable counterpart to Bond, only to fulfill all of the same boring tropes as Bond girls past. Christoph Waltz enters as a villain with a nefarious plan as well as a mysterious personal connection to Bond, but does precisely nothing to make you believe he’s as dangerous as everyone seems to think he is. Ralph Fiennes as M’s replacement must combat mounting resistance to the 00 program in a changing political landscape, a subplot which is every bit as boring as it sounds.
There are occasional suggestions that Spectre is attempting to reclaim the self- awareness of old, with throwback gags referring to Bond’s signature Aston Martin and his troubling track record of romancing women who wind up dead. But these gags are never funny due to the fact that they are little more than a thinly veiled insurance policy in case the next Bond director and star decide to get campy again. They’re also self-defeating of the impressive job Mendes and Craig did to breathe new life into the series with Casino Royale.
Spectre isn’t without its qualities. Seydoux shows excellent range as she continues to prove her ability to anchor a diversity of genres (Blue is the Warmest Colour, The Grand Budapest Hotel). The 35mm film looks great when the eye behind the lens is the slightest bit engaged, and Craig will not suffer any career setbacks from the film’s failure to amount to anything (though he may from his comments to the press).
There’s a great deal of speculation of who will be the next 007, with Idris Elba leading the pack as the fan favorite. He would be exceptional, but if the series is indeed heading down the path of self-congratulation and a fixation with its past achievements at the expense of future output, I have a name I’d like to put forward: Ricky Gervais.
Playing this week
Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX, The Shops at Stonefield 244-3213
Bridge of Spies
Burnt
Crimson Peak
Goosebumps
Hotel Transylvania 2
The Intern
The Last Witch Hunter
The Martian
The Peanuts Movie
Steve Jobs
Violet Crown Cinema, 200 W. Main St., Downtown Mall 529-3000
99 Homes
Jahar Panahi’s Taxi
Miss You Already
Our Brand is Crisis
Rosenwald
Truth
Victoria
