A long overdue vindication for Ian Fleming

Rating: 9/10 (18 November 2006)

Like most people, I grew up with the Bond films. The film series naturally led me to seek out the Ian Fleming novels, and I was struck by how much different they were from most of the films. Ultimately, however, I still liked the movies better.
However, time and my own maturity took its toll on my opinion of these increasingly by-the-numbers exercises in inanity -- with Die Another Day, the last Bond flick, being the final straw. From that point on, I no longer even cared if another Bond film was ever made again.
But that's when I started revisiting the Fleming novels. While hardly great literature, they had a streak of sophistication, truly sexy sexuality, and sadism that was irresistible. If only the filmmakers would realize what they had within the pages of those wonderful pieces of pulp fiction -- ones they had mutilated on screen for so many years by overhauling plots and making over-the-top mockeries of the source material.
But tonight, upon the release of Casino Royale, I think Ian Fleming is finally sleeping peacefully in his grave. Well played, Daniel Craig, Martin Campbell, Michael Wilson and Barbara Broccoli -- well played indeed.