Back to basic, old-school tricks, for the most famous and most sponsored movie agent of all time.

Rating: 5/10 (11 December 2015)

For better or worse, Bond had spoiled us lately with his down-to- Earth and scratchy adventures. The 24th entry in this franchise isn't Spectr-acular but services well its purpose and should easily satisfy the hard fans. Personally, while I wasn't bored to death (here I am writing about it, man), I rank it as the most average adventure, of the Craig-Epoque. Which isn't a praise, either a serious complaint.
Spectre is introduced to us with the best possible way. With a carefully orchestrated camera work, taking place at Mexico's "Day of the Dead" parade and Bond himself, performing a catwalk in the roofs. Cheering his narcissistic style as he arms his gun, James is ready for breakneck action. And absolute (always chic) destruction. Expect to be impressed by explosive demolitions and endless dogfights inside a helicopter. Following this tense opening scene, you are welcomed to the theme song (Sam Smith's The Writing's on the Wall) accompanied by tasteless credit images of a sexy ..octopus! And then you have it. M (Ralph Fiennes this time) reproves 007's unorthodox actions in an overused, dated but so need-to-be-there, joke.
John Logan's script (with the help of other three, Writers on the Wall) draws from the shadows of the past and especially the three previous films in the series (Casino Royale, Quantum of Solace and mega-hit Skyfall) to support the refresh of Spectre's mythology. Everything that occurred is a puzzle, not convincingly structured and designed, but works fine if you're: let's say, well-intentioned to justify the organization's existence. You don't buy it? It's your problem. The story implies that the writing's were always there (on the Wall).
Our villain is a Maniac and he can cut you like a knife, in a surgical chair (which happens). Named Ernst Stavro Blofeld. Two-time Academy Winner of Mannerism Award Christoph Waltz, in a role that would fit more, in an Austin Powers sequel. I really believe, he had more to do playing the same guy in 2011's The Green Hornet (no kidding). That Maniac is supposed a Genius who controls the network security of many countries. I don't want to spoil it to you, but what he does (and specifically does not) in the most crucial time of his Maniac Master Plan, proves that he is not suitable for his title. On Blofeld's side, there is also, another opponent to Bond, who believes that is an enemy, but in fact, is nothing more than an admirer to our hero. He's Mr. Hinx (Dave Bautista). Another Maniac who punches, like he's never punched before.
Enough already with the misfires. Sam Mendes promised to lighten the atmosphere and kudos to him for trying. He transported James Bond to the previous stage of evolution, where the triptych Run-Fun-Gun is the basic ingredient. He is pulling non-plausible situations to the extreme contrasts and puts his hero in an archetypal, relieved non- serious and non-sceptical world. Where, of course, willing exotic young (Léa Seydoux) and exotic not-so-young (Monica Bellucci) women complete the fantasy. That kind of escapism is an impressive value to many fans and shouldn't be underestimated.
Although I can't stop wondering, if Daniel Craig wasn't indeed sarcastic at all, stating in an interview, that he wished he broke a glass and slash his wrists, if he was offered to reprise his role again. Was he tired? Was he truly disappointed? Could this be the Rise of the Ungrateful State of his Career? I'm afraid, it's a combo. This is not just an impulsive confession. He has seen The Graffiti on the Wall and the sketches of the downfall course. He actually has a point, of no-return.
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