I am not a Bond fan. An alcoholic heartless killer addicted to sex is not my idea of a hero. I admit, I occasionally enjoyed watching a kitschy moment or two of a classic Bond film on cable, but that’s where my fandom ended.
Then Casino Royale came around in 2006. Bond was rebooted Batman Begins style in a fresh mold: a sad, angry man with a haunted conscience. His creepy sexual escapades were almost entirely eliminated and his missions became more realistic, and, for this viewer, a lot more engaging to watch.
Royale’s sequel, Quantum of Solace, had a brilliant name and an almost non-existent plot. Now we have Skyfall, a descent pop song by Adele and a mostly staid film that sparkles in the visual department and dramatic realism but fails to excite.
The story is pretty insular for a Bond film, dealing not with international security but with an internal threat to MI6 and its head, the aging M, played wonderfully as always by Judi Dench. Daniel Craig as Bond is good, playing his part with reserve and an inner intensity, but he just doesn’t have much to do. He goes after the threat in a few exotic locations, but then ends up back where he started, in the drab UK, where he must confront the incomparable Javier Bardem, playing a completely bonkers ex-spy bent on personal revenge. This confrontation is pretty grand and reminiscent of classic Bond, featuring some lovely cinematography and exciting action, but it just comes off as too little too late.
As a film, Skyfall is fine. I actually enjoyed its slow pace and focus on character development and realism over crazy action. But as a Bond film it just doesn’t add up. The powers that be have taken the reboot too far. They’ve forgotten what makes the Bond franchise fun: the very things I loathe about it. 2006’s Casino Royale struck a nice balance between the old goofy action and gadgets and the new, realistic drama. Skyfall leans too far to the conservative, realistic side of the franchise and left me wanting more.