Not a Classic Bond Movie By Any Means

Rating: 4/10 (16 January 2016)

Daniel Craig is not the best but probably not the worst of the six different James Bond role players who have chewed the scenery on the 007 stage from 1966 through 2015. I can appreciate that Bond movies, whether good , bad or indifferent, are most often box office successes. However, the best classic Bond role players ever were undoubtedly Sean Connery and Roger Moore, with Pierce Brosnan a close third. All of my favourite Bond players had several things in common. They were unabashedly male chauvinists , and in true bygone time styles the Bond beauties all seem glad to be seduced by gentle and subtle lovers and as a result do not seem to object to being sex objects (whatever that dumb politically correct phrase is supposed to mean). My three best Bond players were naturally charming, dressed well, sipped martinis, often rode continental trains and above all had a touch of good dry but spicy British humour. I cannot forget Sean Connery tossing an electric fan into the bath tub of a villainess muttering "shocking-shocking" , while at the very end of another 007 movie Roger Moore - in bed with a beautiful girl aboard a British mini-submarine built for two - receives a phone call from Maggie Thatcher who after asks him if he is satisfied with the results of his adventure says "Yes, ma'am I am fully satisfied" a Bond reply in good Carry-On James Bond style. Craig cannot help looking bored in all his Bond films, probably because he is never provided with a really good looking female side kick. His molls range from downright ugly in Casino Royale to plain Janes in Spectre. Whereas my favourite 007s seduced their gorgeous partners in a low key style and made love gently. Poor old Daniel Craig is obliged to act as a bodice ripper with female partners who appear, in modern fashion, to want instant relief from sexual pressure and little else . Without much humour a Bond action-spy movie, as in the case of Spectre, simply degenerates to a boring fantasy action feature, when unforgiving folk like myself get fed up with a piece of work exceeding two hours of sitting in a cinema , for what? Spectre begins with a bang, the exciting eight-minute opening Mexico City roof top chase, and ends with a whimper; Bond and his Plain Jane disappear into the London fog leaving a dying villain spread-eagled on the wet pavement. I should have guessed that for my taste the movie would bomb from the awful song and the appalling singer during the opening credits.