

Spectre was the fourth movie in the Craig-era of 007 films seeing him take on the infamous Ernst Stavro Blofeld, played brilliantly by Christoph Waltz, a role once made legendary by Donald Pleasance. Audiences everywhere have responded well to his take on Bond ever since he amazed audiences with his high-octane antics during every pulse-pounding thrill that took place in the reboot Casino Royale.Īfter the lackluster Quantum of Solace and the box-office behemoth Skyfall, the HYDRA of the James Bond franchise would return with the property’s most popular villain. If you would like to comment on this story or anything else you have seen on BBC Culture, head over to our Facebook page or message us on Twitter.Thanks to No Time to Die, renewed interest has spiked in favor of viewers seeking out the 25th James Bond film’s predecessor, and many of them are Netflix subscribers curious to find out if Spectre is on Netflix.ĭaniel Craig’s run as 007 has been a wild ride, to say the least, and, unfortunately, it must come to an end. But while Skyfall had audiences buzzing with anticipation for his next adventure, Spectre leaves you feeling that if you don’t see him again for a decade or two, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Spectre is 007’s 24th film, after all, so maybe he has earnt a nice long rest.
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There is a valedictory air to it, as if, having crammed the film with every Bondian element they could think of, Mendes and his team concluded that there was nowhere left for the series to go.
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As silly as its plot is – and Bond movies are allowed to have silly plots – it is a strangely wistful affair, full of shadowy rooms and autumnal shades of brown. If Skyfall promised an exciting future for 007, the backward-looking Spectre is all about his past. Oberhauser’s fundamental problem, however, is that he is just too familiar. Maybe it’s impossible to be a genuinely terrifying criminal mastermind while you’re wearing loafers with no socks, but his global surveillance scheme doesn’t seem half as diabolical as what our own democratically elected governments are already up to. In practice, he is, frankly, a bit feeble. On paper, Oberhauser is an all-powerful puppet-master. And when he does appear, Waltz revives his prissy sadist routine from Inglourious Basterds, with none of the scenery-chewing madness that Javier Bardem had in Skyfall. Dave Bautista’s under-used Mr Hinx is essentially a brick wall in a three-piece suit, while Christoph Waltz’s Franz Oberhauser is barely glimpsed for the film’s first 90 minutes. The only major disappointment in Spectre is its villains. When she and Bond leap into bed together, it’s because they want to, not because tradition demands it. More importantly, she actually seems to like him.


Monica Bellucci cuts a forlorn figure during her brief cameo, but Seydoux’s Madeleine Swann is as ferocious and independent as 007. He also has real chemistry, at last, with the film’s main Bond girl (Léa Seydoux). And if there is a wall between him and what he wants, he punches through it – with his bare hands. Nothing impresses him, nothing fazes him. His 007 is winningly down-to-earth – a wry, refreshingly angst-free bloke-next-door who can’t help smiling at the bombastic claims of his superiors and enemies. Craig is more comfortable than ever in the central role, and he has trademarked his own distinct take on the character. There is no faulting the man in the tuxedo, though. What you can’t do is believe that any of it matters. You can applaud as Mendes ticks off each spectacular set piece, and you can chuckle at the dialogue, which is tighter and funnier than usual. It seems as if he is doing it for old times’ sake. When he fights bad guys, seduces women, or makes one of his effortless, instant hops from country to country, it never seems as if the fate of humanity depends on it. He is on a sentimental journey – a relaxed lap of honour rather than a race. Bond isn’t on an urgent life-or-death mission. But most of the film is a stroll down memory lane. Later, the villains have a boardroom summit which ranks as the quietest and most chillingly sinister scene in any Bond movie.

Directed by Mendes again, it opens with a long, show-offy tracking shot in Mexico City that takes us through a bustling Day of the Dead parade, into a hotel, up in the lift, into a room, and out of the window – all in one continuous take. There are a couple of strikingly novel sequences in Spectre.
