One of my best friends named her baby Vesper. There was a little release to accompany the naming of this new human to the effect of "our beautiful daughter is peaceful and sacred like an evening prayer". I know differently.
Aubergine and I were living together when the first blond Bond burst into the world, shattering the hopes of critics to harp on their same boring lines about corny sexism and crappy tech that never quite actualizes like Star Trek manages. We watched it in the theatre -- we were poor, so this was a big deal. Then she watched it with her mountain man of a fiance (now husband, and proud pappa of two micro-Aubergines).
Just from this simple plot of real life you can draw your own conclusion about why the second small copy of my friend is named Vesper.
This conclusion is just how good Casino Royale is.
And it's not for too many reasons. And few of them have to do with the believability of the physics in the film, the stupidly over exposed color palette, or the overt exposition of how to play poker, or the idea that none of those rich guys playing poker wouldn't immediately google the hell out of Bond's ostensible alibi and find him to not really exist, and then kill him for his money. If google had existed when Ian Fleming wrote the book, this would have been a plot twist to remember I'm sure. Instead, the screenplay just plugs 15 Sony Vaios, 25 Sony Ericsson phones, and the 1 cursory defibrillator in an Aston Martin and calls it a day on adjusting to the cyber-crazy world of 2006.
Which are all obvious, and funny when you're not attaching to the plot and characters. What makes it is the development of Bond as a character. How he kills his first person. How M doubted his mental state and ability to do the job. Why he becomes a sexaholic. How the first perfect Bond-tini was made, and why he's so damned attached to it. And then... there's Craig himself. He's the craggy, rogueish answer to Pierce Brosnan's slick-to-the-point-of-being-a-skeeze Bond. He brings the franchise back to a place of credibility instead of heightened unattainbility, and therefore gives all us lovers of the underdog and anti-hero something satisfying to hang onto.
One major catalyst of this is his babe. While I love Pussy Galore, and her free spirited use of airplanes, she made a total of three facial expressions. By comparison, Eva Green oughtta be given an Oscar.
She is not only a capable actress (watch her weirdo indie flicks) but she is stunning in a way that incorporates freckles and unusual facial structure. In many scenes, she doesn't even wear makeup. Halle Berry was born looking air brushed perfect, it's not her fault of course that she's so goddamned perfect, but that perfection does not lend an air of believable to anyone's action-flick.*
Most importantly for the film though, is the writing. She has a whole back story that doesn't involve, but does challenge, Bond. The plot uses two book end points of exposition for this, a touching death scene that convincingly builds the Bond character and over-arching themes, and most poignantly, shows just how emotionally involved each kill in a Bond flick should actually be.
Instead of simply shooting and stabbing through the film Vesper must aid Bond in killing some goons, and is rewarded with a whole touching shower scene to reflect on it (forcing the audience to acknowledge that murder is not actually easy). The best part is the supposedly funny one-liner the next morning: "even dead people have their uses" where the audience is given, for the first time ever, a chance to see how Bond deals with the bodies. While it is clever for subtly uncovering a villain, and does illicit a chuckle, this particular balcony scene chills the audience, confirming the tenderness of the shower scene.
Overall, the plot could easily have been de-Bond-ified and filmed as an Atonement or Brick-like movie and taken seriously by the critics.
Which is to say, quite good.
*I'm not here to say action flicks should be believable. Simply pointing out differences between some entertaining, but infeasible films.
Aubergine and I were living together when the first blond Bond burst into the world, shattering the hopes of critics to harp on their same boring lines about corny sexism and crappy tech that never quite actualizes like Star Trek manages. We watched it in the theatre -- we were poor, so this was a big deal. Then she watched it with her mountain man of a fiance (now husband, and proud pappa of two micro-Aubergines).
Just from this simple plot of real life you can draw your own conclusion about why the second small copy of my friend is named Vesper.
This conclusion is just how good Casino Royale is.
And it's not for too many reasons. And few of them have to do with the believability of the physics in the film, the stupidly over exposed color palette, or the overt exposition of how to play poker, or the idea that none of those rich guys playing poker wouldn't immediately google the hell out of Bond's ostensible alibi and find him to not really exist, and then kill him for his money. If google had existed when Ian Fleming wrote the book, this would have been a plot twist to remember I'm sure. Instead, the screenplay just plugs 15 Sony Vaios, 25 Sony Ericsson phones, and the 1 cursory defibrillator in an Aston Martin and calls it a day on adjusting to the cyber-crazy world of 2006.
One major catalyst of this is his babe. While I love Pussy Galore, and her free spirited use of airplanes, she made a total of three facial expressions. By comparison, Eva Green oughtta be given an Oscar.She is not only a capable actress (watch her weirdo indie flicks) but she is stunning in a way that incorporates freckles and unusual facial structure. In many scenes, she doesn't even wear makeup. Halle Berry was born looking air brushed perfect, it's not her fault of course that she's so goddamned perfect, but that perfection does not lend an air of believable to anyone's action-flick.*
Most importantly for the film though, is the writing. She has a whole back story that doesn't involve, but does challenge, Bond. The plot uses two book end points of exposition for this, a touching death scene that convincingly builds the Bond character and over-arching themes, and most poignantly, shows just how emotionally involved each kill in a Bond flick should actually be.
Instead of simply shooting and stabbing through the film Vesper must aid Bond in killing some goons, and is rewarded with a whole touching shower scene to reflect on it (forcing the audience to acknowledge that murder is not actually easy). The best part is the supposedly funny one-liner the next morning: "even dead people have their uses" where the audience is given, for the first time ever, a chance to see how Bond deals with the bodies. While it is clever for subtly uncovering a villain, and does illicit a chuckle, this particular balcony scene chills the audience, confirming the tenderness of the shower scene.
Which is to say, quite good.
*I'm not here to say action flicks should be believable. Simply pointing out differences between some entertaining, but infeasible films.
