(IMAGE: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer)
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. 2021. Action/Drama. 163 minutes.
RATING: 3.5 out of 4
Let’s dispense with formalities at the outset: this will be a spoiler-free review. Absolutely not a single relevant plot twist, revelation or callback will be revealed herein. Originally to have been released in November of 2019, No Time to Die finally arrives in theaters nearly two years late and desperately needed to help boost the flagging theatrical exhibition market so badly crippled by the COVID-19 pandemic. Anyone wishing to scratch their 007 itch will therefore have to get themselves to a movie theater to do their part in helping resuscitate this most vital part of the business. Indeed, it’s hard to imagine a better film with which to inaugurate society’s maiden voyage back to the movies. The twenty-fifth official James Bond film from Albert “Cubby” Broccoli’s Eon Productions (now run by his daughter, Barbara Broccoli), also the fifth and final outing for Daniel Craig as the famed Ian Fleming spy, is every bit the satisfying actioner audiences have been patiently awaiting — and more. It deserves to be seen at least once, and probably more than that, on a proper big screen, with booming audio and a raucous, cheering — and possibly sniffling — audience. It’s very much the Bond we’ve all seen before — but lessons learned from prior Craig outings have been digested, taken to heart and applied in a fashion that frequently makes the familiar feel fresh, even as it dips into emotional territory which previous Bond films have typically eschewed. The result is a film which, as fate would have it, feels both more topical and more needed than it would have two years ago. In short — this is the movie audiences have been waiting for.
Even before the lights go down, No Time to Die distinguishes itself on several levels. With five consecutive outings as Bond, Craig passes Pierce Brosnan to become the third most “Bonded” actor after Sean Connery (with six – not including the non-canonical Never Say Never Again) and Roger Moore (with seven). He also ties Connery in second place for the most consecutive outings as Bond (Connery’s sixth outing, Diamonds are Forever, was a one-off return between George Lazenby and Roger Moore). The film’s director, Cary Joji Fukunaga of True Detective fame, is also the first-ever American director of a Bond film and only the second (after Quantum of Solace director Marc Forster) without a Commonwealth connection. And with a screenplay credited to Fukunaga, seven-time Bond screenwriting team Neal Purvis and Robert Wade and acclaimed Fleabag creator Phoebe Waller-Bridge, No Time to Die is the first Bond film since the first two Bond films — 1962’s Dr. No and 1963’s From Russia with Love — to feature a woman among its credited screenwriters. Those films, historically credited to the legendary Richard Maibaum (a writer on a record thirteen separate Bond films), also bear the unmistakable imprimatur of Irish screenwriter Johanna Harwood who, at age 91, is undoubtedly saying something to the effect of, “About bloody time.”
What most distinguishes the film, however, is that it — along with its four immediate predecessors — represents a significant pivot in the storytelling methodology of the franchise. It’s a pivot which has, at times, been clunky and clumsy as the keepers of the Fleming flame have sought to preserve some kind of modern relevance for a character originally forged in the fires of the Cold War. When Dr. No was released, the Cold War and the Space Race were going full throttle and “action films” weren’t yet a thing. Neither was feminism, at least not the kind that would subsequently challenge screenwriters to adopt less misogynistic attitudes and behaviors than those which audiences once cheered from Sean Connery. Today, however, Bond has had to fend off competition from Universal’s Bourne franchise and Tom Cruise’s immensely popular Mission: Impossible series (based, ironically, on a television series directly inspired by the Bond films) among numerous others in an effort to remain fresh and exciting for a new generation at risk of regarding the franchise as a relic of their parents’ or grandparents’ generation. Key to this shift was the decision to migrate from one-off adventures to a serialized saga more in keeping with the likes of Star Wars or Harry Potter. The effort has not been without setbacks. Casino Royale, in 2006, adapted the one outstanding Fleming novel that had previously not been made into an Eon film (the 1967 Val Guest-directed spoof with David Niven and Woody Allen being non-canonical) with great success, effectively rebooting the franchise with Craig as a newly minted double-O. The 2008 follow-up, Quantum of Solace, was widely panned, however, forcing a series of changes that brought the series its two greatest successes — the Sam Mendes-directed Skyfall and Spectre in 2012 and 2015 respectively. While the narrative machinations linking the films together were far from elegant and displayed little cogent pre-planning for the intended saga, they nonetheless found an emotional gear which neither previous Bond films nor their immediate competitors had even dared attempt. For a franchise long-accustomed to formula, even at the risk of self-parody, that was a noble and praiseworthy risk.
All of which brings us to this concluding chapter. Suffice to say that at 163 minutes — by far the longest Bond film — No Time to Die is not short on story or action. Bond films are expected to be exercises in cinematic splash, but No Time to Die is uncharacteristically focused on story, tying up threads from previous films as well as threads unique to its own narrative. Foremost among these is the relationship between Bond and Léa Seydoux’s Dr. Madeleine Swann, continuing from where it left off in Spectre. Precisely how that relationship entails the now-imprisoned Ernst Stavro Blofeld (Christoph Waltz) and Rami Malek’s much-touted new villain is the secret sauce of which this smart, cleverly-constructed screenplay is made. Returning for another tour are veterans Ralph Fiennes as M, Ben Whishaw as Q and Naomie Harris as Moneypenny, none of whom disappoint. Much-touted newcomers Lashana Lynch and Ana de Armas are also delightful additions. The MacGuffin, as it were, is both as preposterous as Bond MacGuffins usually are, but also rather chillingly meaningful when considered more broadly. That it is so clearly a contrivance designed to motivate nearly every major twist in the story is easily forgiven in view of what the film ultimately means to say. MacGuffins, as such, are rarely deployed to make a point so much as to generate tension, action and suspense. But the purpose here is existential — the Daniel Craig Bond saga represents the first-ever fully self-contained Bond saga outside the other canonical films. Craig did not receive the baton from Brosnan as Brosnan had received it from Timothy Dalton, who received it from Roger Moore, who received it from Sean Connery (who both handed it off to and received it back from George Lazenby). Craig represented the first actual reboot of the franchise, and whoever inherits the mantle of 007 next will likely reboot it once more for an entirely new saga. This, one would assume, is how the franchise will maintain its relevance for the foreseeable future as MGM becomes part of Amazon Studios and Bond becomes the new company’s flagship property.
What is most impressive about No Time to Die is precisely that it is able to handle its juggling act so skillfully — a plethora of characters and storylines, old and new, none of which are overwhelmed by the action — all while manifesting a richer emotional tapestry than any previous Bond film. And yet, the obligatory tropes are all there — martinis shaken, not stirred; zippy one-liners; fanciful gadgets; a crazed megalomaniac; a dazzling assortment of women both lethal and beautiful and, of course, the Aston Martin. Or, rather… Aston Martins. That the resulting film clocks in just shy of three hours, then, is actually quite an achievement. In less assured hands, it would have been far longer.
Much of that can be credited to director Fukunaga, who took the reins only after original director — and perpetual franchise abandoner Danny Boyle — stepped aside. That Fukunaga is the first American to direct a Bond film is really a fairly trivial bit of trivia in light of his very distinguished resume. As the guiding light for the first season of True Detective, it’s clear that his grasp of character, mood and procedural intensity were deemed immense assets to this particular Bond installment in this particular saga. That calculation absolutely pans out — Fukunaga is content to not fix what’s not broken, while embellishing and deepening everything that shows even the faintest emotional hook. Consider that the film’s pre-credit prologue clocks in at roughly a half-hour — all of which feels like ten minutes — and you begin to understand the skills and the confidence of the hands into which Barbara Broccoli entrusted her family’s most prized possession.
No Time to Die is far from a perfect film. It’s not even certain that it’s the best Bond. It may not even be the best of the Craig series. But it is quite likely the most satisfying Bond film ever made, and it is absolutely the right film — Bond or otherwise — for this moment in time. Craig’s performance is markedly less than twinkly or even menacing. It’s melancholic. Consequently, No Time to Die is a film burdened by the lead actor’s recognition that this is the end of an era — for him and for us — and deeply saddened that it’s all coming to an end. But such are the emotions of which great films are made — the kind of stuff Bond films have typically believed unsuited to popcorn entertainment. Here, hopefully not for the last time, audiences are treated to proof that in the right hands, they really can have it both ways.
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