Casino Royale

So after my excellent nap, Paul came back and Trevor called so we made some dinner and a movie plans. We ended up at Casino Royale, and it’s excellent.

There have been efforts to make James Bond seem less embarrassingly retro: he’s tried only shtupping one girl at a time, they made him quit smoking, and so on. But Bond movies had seemed to have gotten a little stale, a little formulaic. It’s been years since I’ve really looked forward to seeing one, and that was for Michelle Yeoh, who ought to be given her own major movie franchise for upstaging what’s-his-face every time she was onscreen.

But Casino Royale is actually good! We get to see James Bond become who he is, and his character is no longer romantically suave, but romantically fucked up. The first car we see him drive is a FORD. An accountant, of all people, has to teach him what a real dinner jacket looks like. And then there is the post-traumatic distress. No wonder he drinks! No wonder he can’t maintain a relationship!

Of course, there’s still plenty of quipping, action, and exotic locales. But when the edge-of-your-seat moment is a card game, you know it’s much more than a BOOM!CRASH! movie.

Oh, and Daniel Craig is an actor. That certainly helps!

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