Spectre (2015)

     Spectre puts me in mind of a bit from a webcomic I read, wherein two characters are having a karaoke contest. When one busts out the Jay-Z song “99 Problems,” the other cries in frustration, “I can’t top Jay-Z! Even Jay-Z can’t top Jay-Z!” The last James Bond film, Skyfall, was a smashing success and a brilliant blend of good filmmaking, action, and Bond-canon nostalgia. Naturally, the filmmakers would want more from a follow-up, and highbrow director Sam Mendes is back at the helm…but it seems even James Bond can’t top James Bond. Spectre is a quality entry in the Bond series, but it’s no Skyfall. So the bad news is that this latest film isn’t the best of Bond. The good news is that even an imperfect Bond film is still better than a lot of the major-franchise fare out there.

     

     Spectre reunites most of the gang from the last installment. Daniel Craig is back as Bond, and is backed by the “new” team introduced in Skyfall: Ralph Fiennes as MI-6 head M, Naomie Harris as his girl Friday Moneypenny, and Ben Whishaw as gadget-master and hacker extraordinaire Q. New on the spy side of things is MI-5 chief Max Denbigh (Andrew Scott), an oily operator who hopes to replace expensive human agents of the double-O type with drones and electronic surveillance programs. His efforts are given a boost by Bond’s actions in the opening sequence, a tense chase through (and above) a seething crowd on Mexico’s Day of the Dead that’s a bang-up sequence in more ways than one. Bond’s payoff for all the destruction? The death of an Italian hitman and the acquisition of a creepy ring inscribed with a tentacled logo. Figuring that so much chaos in pursuit of a ring doesn’t play well outside of Middle-Earth, M grounds Bond before he does any more damage. Bond, of course, never takes such orders well, and is soon off in search of SPECTRE, the organization whose members sport the spooky rings. Bond’s interest is further piqued when he learns that SPECTRE is headed by a man from his own past called Franz Oberhauser (Christoph Waltz) – a man Bond thought was dead. On his way to Oberhauser and his secrets, Bond finds time to seduce the Italian hitman’s widow (a gorgeous and underused Monica Bellucci), fight it out with deadly SPECTRE strongman Hinx (Dave Bautista), and develop feelings for sexy shrink Madeleine Swann (Lea Seydoux).

    

     One of the odd things about Spectre is that what I just outlined feels simultaneously like too much plot and not enough. While all of Bond’s chasing names and memories around the world leads to some great action sequences, it never really feels like there’s a lot at stake. The surprises the script has to offer are also not really that surprising; most viewers familiar with the formulas of spy thrillers and/or the history of Bond films will be able to spot the connections and identities pretty easily. And while numerous locales and fight scenes here recall famous bits of the Bond canon, they don’t give the sort of unexpected joy that similar echoes in Skyfall did. At times the movie seems too invested in the “reboot” mode – the dullest bits are when Spectre seems to be more focused on explaining Bond’s world than doing something entertaining in that world.

     There is nothing to fault in the acting. Craig is well-settled into his version of James Bond by now, even down to the signature cuff-straightening-during-a-fight move. His Bond remains a man of action over ideas, who has many lovers but few real loves, and whose wryness is equal parts real humor and defense mechanism. If you like Craig as Bond, you’ll have no complaints here. Bond’s supporting cast is given a little more to do this time around, and all do it well. The mix of patrician hauteur and grit required for M is right up Fiennes’s alley, just as Q’s nerd chic is right up Whishaw’s, and Harris is still just right as a Moneypenny who is as much spy as secretary. Seydoux’s part is somewhat underwritten, but she is a nice addition to the recent slate of “Bond girls” who are certainly damsels but are rarely in distress. Most of the new blood is on the adversary side, and here also, everyone does what we expect them to do. "Sherlock" fans know that Scott has a great gift for smarmy menace, which is most of what is required for Denbigh. Bautista’s Hinx is one of a long line of Bond strongmen who let their actions talk for them (he utters only one word in the whole film), but he has the good sense to style those actions after iconic henchmen like those played by Robert Shaw and Richard Kiel (and seems to have even taken some notes from "Game of Thrones"). Waltz does what I can only describe as the Christoph Waltz Thing, which is to make even the most causal chat sound like a threat, and the other way around. Waltz has a tough gig in some ways – the “international supervillain” character has been roundly parodied in settings as disparate as the Austin Powers series and Despicable Me. Fortunately, he is just the man for the job, and manages to carry off the role without summoning the (ahem) specter of Mike Myers. If anything is missing, it’s a sense of visceral danger from his character – Oberhauser is less obviously nasty than Javier Bardem’s gleefully vengeful Silva or Mads Mikkelsen’s casually amoral Le Chiffre in previous films. Yes, he’s meant to be the brains of the operation and not the brawn, but I want to squirm a little more when a Bond villain is around.

     Like Skyfall, Spectre looks great, despite a change in cinematographers, and the costumes are, as usual, impeccable and mouth-wateringly attractive. Bond the character and Bond the franchise have nothing if not style. Composer Thomas Newman does the best job yet in the Daniel Craig era of blending new music with iconic Bond melodies. Sam Smith’s theme song, however, is forgettable – no match for Adele’s soaring offering the last go ‘round.

When the movie fires on all cylinders, as in the Mexico City opening, it’s thrilling, and there are some fine set-pieces and bits of acting. Indeed, the recent Bond films have had an embarrassment of riches in that regard. When Fiennes and Whishaw and Rory Kinnear (as a fellow operative) go sneaking across London rooftops, it’s easy to wonder whether they’re up to spy games or up to staging guerilla productions of Hamlet. And those are just the supporting players. Spectre is a well-made movie; there’s not much to argue about that, and yet it feels like less than it could have been. The internet is apparently abuzz noting that the “octopus” in the SPECTRE logo is in fact sporting only seven arms. An Oberhauser oversight? Perhaps – but an appropriate one. Like that logo, this movie has the right feel and the right pedigree, but in the end it doesn’t quite all add up.