Christoph Waltz was born to
play a Bond villain.
It is not just how good the
actor plays slithery evil, coating that core of pitch-black insidious evil with
a fascinating flair for the spoken word and the sly grin. Rather it is also how
his sheer, self-assured essence hints at the promise of bigger things taking
place sooner or later. Whenever anything as much as his shadow has appeared on
the fringes of the screen- either as the devilishly vicious colonel or the
lightning-quick bounty hunter- everyone else- and we the audience as well-is
rubbing his or her hands in abated breath, gleefully or nervously anticipating
what may come ahead, aware that it must be something incredible.
Director Sam Mendes clearly
knows this and fashions his second Bond film as much as he casts Waltz in a masterstroke
as the original Bond nemesis with unabashed sensational pulp.
This is a 24th
outing that feels like a leisurely yet thrillingly prolonged foreplay of a
film- a film which is unafraid to let the brooding tone dominate its proceedings
but which is also primarily concerned for the big bang- often compromising
plausibility for a pulpy, wishful premise that is all about delivering big,
brassy moments- a film which blares its jazzy beats as loudly as possible.
The result is ‘Spectre’- an
unruly, uneven beast of a Bond entertainer, which might skimp on the grittiness
of the new world of the forever-young spy but nevertheless doles out healthy
servings of classic, preposterous Bond- plenty of eye-candy, welcome banter
between the proceedings and a wonderful sense of self-depreciation that
undercuts the stakes and makes it all a heady guilty pleasure. Think of it as not
a film vying for resonance or even emotional connect but all giddy sensation-
like your favorite cocktail served in a svelte-looking glass.
It begins with perhaps the
finest, most beautifully choreographed pre-credits sequence in quite some time.
It is the Day Of The Dead in a dusty Mexico, a macabre occasion, a celebration
of impending death and we glide in and out of the feverish crowds of commoners
and death-heads in the sweaty ghettos. It is a moment of compelling hypnotic
intrigue- with Mendes and master-cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema following
Bond, right after he discards both a woman and his death-head mask, leaping
from roof to roof, on his way to a mission with Scorsese-like relentlessness
before it all erupts into a pulse-pounding action setpiece oscillating
beautifully from the sunbaked skyline to the frenetic crowds below. One gets
the idea- this is a film soaked in testosterone.
Despite the daredevilry,
Bond returns not to applause but rather some bad news. The new M, played with
hard-nosed charm by Ralph Fiennes, is angry over his brash actions while it
happens that the 00 section, deemed as obsolete, is closing shop. Still, Bond
has a secret mission up the sleeve of his jacket and he chooses to go at it
with typical pluck, stealing along the new Aston Martin DB9- a particularly
feisty-looking vehicle- along for the ride, taking him from melancholic Rome to
frosty Austria to blistering North Africa- as well as into some dark personal territory.
The film rarely wastes time
to settle down on the basics- there is a secret community which is creating
global chaos and it is run by an overlord who makes his introduction in a heart-stopping
sequence of silent dread. Like how the terrible ‘Quantum Of Solace’ followed up
‘Casino Royale’, Mendes’ new film takes a drastic approach, with writers John
Logan, Neil Purvis and Robert Wade suggesting that the said community had to do
with all the catastrophes demonstrated in all the previous three Bond outings.
Clearly, there is a dark truth here somewhere and the film teases it out
eventually but it takes its own time to do the same, cramming in a parallel
track of a possible coup inside the MI6 and Bond sharing the camaraderie- and even
some twisted romance as well.
While Mendes’ last film, the
beautifully-crafted, if a bit too simplistic, ‘Skyfall’ balanced its emotional
pathos with clever banter, this one tries to blend both together in the same
brew and while there is enough fun for the fans and casual viewers alike, the
tone of the proceedings somewhat jars and there is ultimately an emotional
coldness here that makes us not care particularly about the fate of its
characters- though the final hour does bring the film on an even keel, even as
things blow up with great élan all around.
It is precisely for the
explosions, the chases, the guns and gadgets that Mendes wants us to care for
and boy, they are all served in grand style- echoing the pulpy, fun-filled mood
of those sixties Bond films, which were seldom about things more serious than
saving the day in style and bombast. ‘Spectre’ delights the audiences gleefully
with its fascinating blend of the old and the new- a mixture that is most
successful on the action front. Hoytema shoots with relentless energy and moody
aesthetic Mendes’ globe-trotting narrative. The helicopter scuffle of the beginning
is as intense and immediate as the pumped-up action that we see in all recent
Craig outings while a sleek car chase in the streets and stairways of Rome is
vintage fun for the true-blue Bond fans- with some funs with gadgets, terrific
sight gags and Craig’s Bond himself not afraid to let dry witticisms flow from
his mouth. In scenes like these, the film pays its homage to the past without
ever forgetting its post-modernist streak and the result are clean-cut action
scenes packed with both pomp and punch- just watch out the raw fist-fight
inside a train (rivalling the one in ‘From Russia With Love’) or the climactic
finale in London, in which clocks are ticking with all intention to explode
with a wallop.
The film works, thus, better
than expected; even for its rambling 150 minute duration, this is a film which
entertains us more than it would seem likely. Even as the main narrative lacks
focus, there are plenty of touches- both in the film’s witty asides and sight
gags- Bond landing on a sofa after a deadly fall, the Aston Martin’s in-built machine
guns lacking ammunition and so on- as well as into the main strokes- the
redemption of Mr. White or the ultimate secret of the nemesis and his
connection to Bond- which more than compensate and add a lot of substance to
the style all around.
Craig is reliably great as
Bond and more affable than ever. He is still searing in the action but- and
this is a welcome surprise-he has also learned quite a bit to belt out the
occasional wisecrack- either when ordering a martini in vain in a health clinic
or leering unashamedly over his prized vehicle inside Q’s garage. Pretty much
everyone is in good shape with enough leg space- in particular, Fiennes as an
unsmiling yet suave M and Ben Whishaw as the mild-mannered and geeky Q,
increasingly nonplussed over Bond’s exploits. As for the ladies, Monica
Bellucci is frankly wasted as an emotionally torn widow and appears more of a
casting indulgence but Lea Seydoux brings both snap and heat to the proceedings-
initially all vulnerable and steadily turning strong-willed and diligent enough
to pack a punch into the film’s most slack moments.
This brings us to the main
talking point of the film- Waltz as the film’s villain- Franz Oberhause (or is
he really that?). We have had a fairly good time with good actors over the
years playing these enjoyable villains but Waltz is already of a different
class- embodying even his silent stares with seething menace. His introduction-
cloaked in silhouettes-might be one of the finest scenes in the film- his
words, elaborate and spoken with gingerly grace, are marvelous and all his
moments are those which make you sit up with palpable excitement. The only
downer is that we can’t get enough of him in the film- but we look forward to a
comeback later in the series.
‘Spectre’ is a beautifully
choreographed film- a mesmeric, elaborate dance of waltz (spell that in
capitals) which celebrates the old-school charm of vintage James Bond in
spades, without forgetting to be firmly modern in its tone. It may not have the
best story out there and it will be sometime before Mendes actually beats
Martin Campbell, yeah but like those evergreen Connery classics, this one wants
to have a load of fun- with both gadgetry and just a little dash of seriousness
to satisfy the hardcore fans as well as the newbies. This is no Martini but
rather a tall drink of old ingredients, but oh how beautifully it plays the
beats of that famous theme music at every single sip so that we gladly swallow
it in.
My Rating- 4 Stars Out Of 5
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