Movie Review: Casino Royale


As a dedicated Bond fan, I must espouse the virtues of this excellent return to the true Bond character as Ian Fleming wrote him, a thankful eschewing of the bizarrely fey spy presented by Roger Moore, Pierce Brosnan, and others. Casino Royale is the best Bond film since Dr. No.


Here we find a Bond with a thug’s body and temperament: He’s impulsive, passionate, and prone to rash decisions that cram his impressive assets into dangerous situations. The techno toys, snarky quips, and product-placement cars are noticeably absent as we are treated to the Bond that Sean Connery originated: a house-broken hooligan in testosterone overdrive whose main concerns are bare-handed killing and bare-assed screwing.


The casting director earned a place in heaven with the smoldering combination of the luscious Daniel Craig and the non-blonde Eva Green. Toss in a perfect villain who cries tears of blood, high-stakes poker (the literary Bond played Baccarat but we can forgive this inaccuracy), a heart-pounding opening sequence, the right Aston-Martin, and a climax in Venice, and you’ve got a brilliantly fun film.


Oh, and Daniel Craig walks out of the ocean. Twice.


Grade: A

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