Spontaneous cheerleader combustion

Casino Royale may be the best Bond movie in thirty years or more, though it's a bit difficult to compare it to the rest of the series as it sheds so much of what, for better or worse, has defined these movies for decades. No more camp or single entendres or ridiculous gadgets, though I love all that stuff. No more villains scheming from underwater lairs, their plans for world domination absurd. This is a reboot and this Bond would probably mop the floor with the previous guys: as good as they were, you rarely felt these guys were menacing. Well, Connery often felt that way and often that menace radiated towards women. Daniel Craig looks like he's played some rugby or taken some punches. He also makes mistakes, he screws up. He's not an unflappable sex automaton in a tux. Most importantly, and this is probably due to the success of the Jason Bourne movie, Bond actually, you know, spies. He investigates and searches. He doesn't show up for steak with Hugo Drax, barely claiming some bored identity, before boffing Dr. Goodhead. Or whatever. That's what I do with my time. Not Bond.

The movie has a torture scene that's truly, majestically uncomfortable and features probably the greatest defiant fuck you-type line in years. The crowd applauded, laughing aloud.

The movie is a little long, moving past what feels like one ending setting up certain events for a second film but goes ahead, upending Bond, setting him on the path.

Great flick.

***

Received a rejection this weekend that truly stung. I get my share just like everybody but because of the circumstances with this one I winced.

Still, that was ameliorated a bit by Black Warrior Review taking a poem, so yay for that.