Skyfall
December 2012
The challenge for this review is the same that was possibly faced by Sam Mendes in tackling the newest and 23rd Bond film in the 50-year-old franchise (and incidentally by another institution of British pop culture celebrating their Golden Jubilee) – namely to provide a new perspective on something known to the point of over familiarity. I could be overstating my case, but hopefully just as Mendes and the Stones succeed, so too will I in proving my case.
Skyfall more than succeeds, it triumphs. Daniel Craig picks himself up after the mess that was Quantum of Solace and promptly places himself in the hands of a character focused, yet wry minded and mature director. This is Bond as we haven’t seen him before. Yes there’s topless shots galore as is assumedly written into Craig’s contract, but we see much more than his bloody, well defined torso. In one scene he takes to one of his pumped up pecs with a knife, literally digging deeper into what makes Bond tick. He is weary, embittered, embattled and even vulnerable and Craig plays it with the perfect balance of grunt and grimace. Javier Bardem’s appealingly creepy villain is the perfect encapsulation of a present day cyber terrorist and evil incarnate mirroring Bond to intriguing effect. Ben Whishaw is also cast as Gen Y’s choice for Q.
This is a Bond for now. The narrative revolves around questions of both Bond and M’s aging ability to uphold their service; the baddies are from within and there’s a self-conscious embellishment and simultaneous abandonment of Bond-esque trademarks. Least of these is the character of M herself (Judi Dench), who is foregrounded in the story as a Freudian focus for both ‘tagonists. It’s a strange and compelling mix of elements.
The comic book capers are all there, together with the bombs and babes, but are tempered by the more modern plot points and character back-story. It at once propels Skyfall forward into a new Bond era yet takes us back to his previously unseen roots. Ultimately what are stripped away are the emblems of modernity, the gadgetry and even guns, resulting in a deliberately slowed down and drawn out finale that is less concerned with the snappy style of action blockbusters and more with intelligence, grace and wit. And that’s saying nothing of the other heroes, namely cinematographer Roger Deakins, writers John Logan, Neal Purvis and Robert Wade, composer Thomas Newman and so on and so on…
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