While watching Spectre, and pausing it to make some Tea, then watching 20 more minutes and then pausing to go to get some Apple Crumble, I wondered what had become of James Bond.
The man who once exuded confidence and revelled in the fact that he had to save the world, again, save the girl, again, and then sleep with said girl, probably also again, seemed so bored with everything going on around him that even as he was driving a wingless plane down a mountain, I imagine both of us were wondering about getting another cup of tea and some more Apple Crumble.
Near the end of the film, Ralph Fiennes’ M educates a tertiary character that, ‘it’s not over’. Both M and I were very upset about ‘it’ not being over; all be it for very different reasons.
While M worried about 007 and the future of the ’00 Programme’, I feared that I had to endure another chase scene, another near death of Mr. Bond’s current love interest, and another set of explosions that killed countless henchmen.
Won’t someone please think of the henchmen!?
Despite M acknowledging the remaining 30 minutes of ‘Spectre’ and the next installment of Daniel Craig’s run as James Bond, I would like to disagree with him, slightly.
It is over.
The ‘real’ James Bond is the person who you want to pretend you are, but never actually become.
Cool car. Check. Awesome gadgets. All of them. Invulnerable to bullets. Get at me.
You know what he doesn’t have though? Real world problems.
I don’t want to watch Bond solve this mystery in a crazy and outlandish way because it’s too real of an issue. The idea that his adopted parents loved him more than their actual child, while a potentially deep and meaningful story line doesn’t gel with the plot line involving an assassination attempt during a Dia de los Muertos parade tries to pull the concept of ‘James Bond’ too far in each direction.
It’s also a really weird foreshadowing of his philandering, but that’s for another day.
It’s odd to think that a movie so filled with theatrics and explosions makes you crave something a little less real, but think about the draw to Roger Moore’s ‘007’ or Sean Connery’s ‘Bond. James Bond.’
They fought with villains that were so outlandish and carried themselves with a comedic level of ‘Not Givin’ a Shit’ that it was impossible to think of any of them as actual people.
That is the goal of this type of cinema and why Spectre fails both its protagonist and its audience.
The current iteration of James Bond is bland and banal, exasperated at the thought of everything going his way at the last possible second and the endless bar tab of martinis and women who seem to have no problem with his body count, lack of morals or the fact that they have known him for all ten minutes before declaring their undying love for him.
I wasn’t watching a smooth and debonaire secret agent combat the forces of someone trying to take over the world. I was watching a smooth and debonaire secret agent try to figure out why someone with Daddy issues wanted to kill everyone he came into contact with.
I guess there was something about data or information or the cloud too.
The truth of the matter is that I don’t care about James Bond.