A miserable excuse for a Bond film

Rating: 1/10 (24 November 2006)

The last of the Ian Fleming novels to be produced as a film by the Broccoli family Casino Royale is - from the first shaky black and white moments to the end - a breathless and bloody run and gun of no merit. A thug-a-thon wherein the audience roots for 007, in the end, only out of habit.
A series of improbable fight, torture and chase scenes strung together by an incompetent vision totally lacking any glimpse of the essence of the James Bond franchise. Soaked in blood, and stripped of everything that made a James Bond film a much anticipated spectacle.
This film is everything you never went to a Bond flick for. Its DARK, its ANGST RIDDEN, it has NO STYLE OR WIT. It DOESN'T EVEN HAVE AN ARTFUL SET OF OPENING CREDITS. NO GADGETS. NO WITICISMS. Worst of all NONE OF THE BEAUTIFUL WOMEN that always decorated the films. Generally speaking the film makers plainly enjoyed themselves best when they were THUMBING THEIR NOSE AT Everything YOU EXPECTED FROM A BOND FILM.
Up until now James Bond did what was unpleasant but necessary for queen and country - and was uncivil only as much as necessary to secure the lofty heights of western civilization.
This James Bond is precisely the sort of untrustworthy sociopath that would make the sort of willing killer no service would ever trust.
Since this was is the last of the Ian Fleming novels the Brocolli team owned the rights to, they might as well as well have killed Bond at the end of the film - they've probably killed the series.