Entry 26: Movie Review: Skyfall

We do love our totalitarian figures of authority don’t we, whether it’s Jason Bourne, Jack Bauer, or most prolifically, James Bond. To become a mainstay of violent spy films it seems all you need are the initials JB, with the one probable exception of Justin Bieber. Unless they start bringing out espionage thrillers with knob head RnB stars as protagonists.  Skyfall was released last week and has gone some way in becoming renowned as one of the greatest Bond films in recent memory. And rightly bloody so; Skyfall is a triumphant return to form.

Casino Royale in 2006 came as a welcome and much-needed reboot after the spangly wad of shite that was Die Another Day, but 2008’s Quantum of Solace brought the soaring triumph of Casino to a crashing stop.  Not only was it a terrible name for an action film, sounding more like something by Sylvia Plath, it was also a shallow affair, with emphasis on action and almost zero plot development, not to mention one of the weaker narratives to ever grace a Broccoli picture (I am totally serious when I say it was about stealing water). Still, throughout both films Craig proved adept at balancing convincing action with genuine warmth and emotion.  After Quantum threatened to spoil the show, things finally got back on track, with this new, twenty-third instalment.

Skyfall sets off in fairly generic style; though to be generic in a James Bond film you still need fighting on top off a train and a motorbike chase over some Turkish rooftops. Things get interesting when Craig finally bites the bullet; literally, and we are sunken into a murky and sub-aquatic credit sequence, as the brooding piano prelude of Adele’s Skyfall lets us know the film has started proper. It is actually one of the more impressive opening cinematic in any Bond film; if not the best of the lot. Adele’s theme fits perfectly with the murky depth of the accompanying video, with some clever work with fractured mirrors and some foreshadowing of events to come.  The sumptuously slow building of tempo really draws you in, and when the video ends and snaps abruptly to chilly London, director Sam Mendes has our undivided attention.  Of course the supposed death of James Bond is hardly fresh, being a plot point already rolled out in You Only Live Twice, The World Is Not Enough, and Tommorow Never Dies. Thankfully absent are the scenes where Bonds peers gawp in amazement as he shows up in one piece, and indeed his re-introduction to M is gleefully casual, with Judi Dench reopening the channels with “Where the bloody hell have you been?”. But there is trouble close to home, with someone blowing chunks out of M16 Headquarters in London, rarely a warm gesture. Then Raillpe Phinnes is being a right bastard and is trying to persuade Dame Judi Dench to retire, on the back of the troubles in the agency; presumably he’s a fan of her period dramas on ITV. Furthermore, now a list of every active NATO agent has fallen into the wrong hands. Quite why someone compiled an exhaustive list of every current undercover agent, in one place, and then left it lying about on their Macbook, isn’t particularly clear. Still, whatever. Things aren’t looking good at the beginning of Skyfall. And to put the kibosh on it, James Bond is failing all his fitness tests and generally proving to be the Peter Griffin of the British secret service.

The locations in Skyfall are typically stunning; the sequence in Shanghai  is glossy and vivid, with one of the coolest swimming pools ever committed to film, and it all reeks (unintentionally, no doubt) of that fond old PS2 adventure,  007: Nightfire.  Other highlights include a secluded island casino, a desolated city, and, notably, the City of London, which comes to play an integral part in the second third of the film. We’ve already seen MI6’s finest drive a boat along the Thames, and break an arm falling on the Millennium dome in World Is Not Enough, but Skyfall sees Bond getting into trouble on the underground, featuring some platform to train carriage acrobatics, and some delicious banter with a stunned Tube driver.  

The characterisation in Skyfall is probably its greatest strength. At the fore there is of course Daniel Craig. James Bond is a shallow character to play, which if handled clumsily can well stray into self-parody (see any Bond film featuring Sir Roger Moore). However, Craig brings a certain rugged vulnerability to the role, and his outwards aloofness in the face of his bulky silhouette, make him a captivating anti-hero. His piercing blue eyes he uses to great effect, and in fact he could have probably acted in a Burkha and portrayed all we needed to know with those baby blues alone. Craig provides a master class in conveying through body language; his lines are actually competitively few in number, and it is through his expressions, gestures and movements that often we learn his true feelings and intentions.  For this central hero there is a devilish antagonist in the form of Javier Bardem’s  Raoul Silva. Bardem described the mandate for creating the character as someone, not who stirs fear, or even dread, but to make the audience ‘uncomfortable’. 

This is an interesting approach and it really pays off; Silva is not dissimilar from Heath Ledger’s Joker, not menacing through his brawn or strength but through a sort of sly cunning . Silva combines the silliness of a blonde comb-over that looks like a furry Dulux paint swatch, and a two-piece suit right out of Saturday Night Fever, with some far more unsettling innovations, like his surprisingly chilling analogy about two hungry rats. And there isn’t even time to mention his lusty pawing of Daniel Craig. It’s a bizarre turn that makes a first for traits to include in a bond villain; he reminded me of that southern fancy from American Dad!, just without the southern drawl. Bardem and Craig give powerhouse performances but they have some serious support. Judi Dench reprises her role in style; and she can always be relied upon for humour, affection and a stiff upper lip. The return of Q is also welcome,  not in the form of the wearily affectionate Desmond Llewellyn or the oddball John Cleese, but instead the geek chic of newcomer Ben Whishaw. Whishaw’s Q is a stark contrast to previous carnations, being about sixty years younger; a Q for the Ipad generation. Furthermore the grumbling respect between Q and James Bond gives way to two-way condescension; which makes for some cracking dialogue. Also making reappearance is M’saide Bill Tanner, as well as another welcome return from the original character roster. No spoilers there.

What brings the film to life though is not just the solid acting but also the top notch scriptwriting. The dialogue here is gratifyingly solid, and Mendes shoots the script through with a brilliant sarcastic wit.  Thankfully absent is the excess of cheese pervading so many Bond scripts; the use of light relief never seems cheap, and Mendes does a good job of breaking up some of the tougher moments. Skyfall is so hot off the press it is hard to comment on how it compares alongside other entries in the series; especially as it is one of the best loved franchises around. But this is beside the point, on its own merits, Skyfall is a triumphant, humorous, touching, and well acted spy-thriller, with gloss and grit in abundant equal measure. It says something when the final act of the film, set in the Highlands of Scotland, is endlessly more interesting, exciting, and effective than, by contrast, the climax of Die Another Day, which ends with a sword fight in a spy plane over South Korea as a satellite laser beam burns up the 48^th Parallel. But this is the crucial difference between Bond of old and Bond of new. It can’t be described as understated; brawling in a Komodo dragon pit, and guns-blazing helicopters, blasting John Lee Hooker’s ‘Boom Boom’ , cannot really be considered subtleties, but Bond under Daniel Craig is a far classier affair, and the more corny moments come off as humorous and giddy, as opposed to groan-inducing (Moonraker, Q, upon seeing Bond rutting in a space shuttle: “I think he’s attempting re-entry, sir.”).  Outside of the latest Batman instalment, there has not and will not be, in the few weeks that remain, a film event quit like it this year. Skyfall is violent, compelling, entertaining, and in the end, quietly moving, with a script that crackles with a quintessentially English wit and eccentricity.  It seems it is raking in audiences just fine, but if anyone needed further provocation; go and see Skyfall. It’s a must see. And they’ve really cut down on the penis jokes.