newjerseynewsroom.com

BY JOE TYRRELL

NEWJERSEYNEWSROOM.COM

MOVIE REVIEW

The sky is falling in “Skyfall,” the newest and most ambitious of the ancient and formulaic tales of James Bond.

The movie series began with “Dr. No” in 1962, and by now a real Commander Bond would be puttering about the garden in Kent, helping the grandchildren gather seashells on Mallorca, or more likely moldering in some unmarked grave in the former East Germany.

So it is fitting that a palpable sense of mortality drenches “Skyfall,” right from the standard outlandish set piece of the opening, along with many pleasurable winks at iconic settings, events and props from the superspy’s past adventures.

This marks Daniel Craig’s third outing as Bond, and it is by far his best. This time, he plays a man who might be slipping, just like the house of secrets he works for, looming thuggishly over an otherwise pleasant stretch of the Thames.

As usual though, Bond begins far away from the London headquarters of MI6. He also starts off with help, in the thin but lovely form of Naomie Harris as a young agent, Eve.

They are racing through Istanbul, a key setting in the second — and best — Bond adventure, “From Russia with Love,” and revisited in the very decent “The World is Not Enough.” FRWL came before the series settled into its outlandish routines, and "Skyfall" attempts to recapture its hard edge.

As the series has aged, the openings have become stand-alone episodes, whose combination of spectacle and silliness serves as reminder that this is the same franchise, not as an introduction to the new adventure.

So in “Skyfall,” things are going along in typical Bond fashion: a motorcycle chase along the rooftops of Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar. That somehow moves to the top of a moving train, where, when the villain decouples cars, Bond grabs control of a backhoe and uses it to bridge the gap, smashing the bucket through the roof of the next down.

It is a scene where Bond gets shot, but nonchalantly hops down through the gaping hole, tugs his shirt cuff back into place, and continues the chase.

And then, things go terribly wrong.

James Bond is dead.

That seldom happened to any of the other guys.

Of course, it would not be much of a Bond film without Bond. But the script, begun by Peter Morgan and then credited to Neal Purvis, Robert Wade and John Logan means to put Bond and Craig through their paces.

So when we see James again, he is grizzled, dressed like a beachcomber, drinking heavily and performing tricks for an appreciative crowd in a beachfront bar. But like an annoying but less effective version of Bond, CNN is inescapable. When he awakes in the gray morning, alone but for a bartender, there is bad news on the box.

Chickens come home to roost in “Skyfall,” particularly for Judi Dench, in her seventh appearance as Bond’s ruthless boss, M. It seems one of her star agents from her days as MI6 station chief in Hong Kong, bears a grudge. Unlike other films in this series, "Skyfall" at least suggests that the good guys are not all that good, and not always smart.

As a further sign that this is a serious undertaking, director Sam Mendes recruited Javier Bardem to play Silva, embittered and playful, crazed and needy. Over the years, he has turned himself into the world’s best hacker, but he has never forgiven M for her past sins.

His role is no “Biutiful,” but Bardem gives “Skyfall” something recent Bond movies have generally lacked, a memorable villain. Coming from the same workhouse, Silva can see Bond for what he is: broken. This Bond sweats and strains, breathes hard and struggles to control his shaking hand.

For the first time, Craig seems fully invested in the part. For a time at least, the script allows him to make James Bond seem like a real person. Inevitably, though, he also cleans up, wears a tax, drinks a martini, avoids komodo dragons, glides through the shimmering glass towers of Shanghai and the glowing crimson casinos of Macau.

Thanks to Mendes and especially cinematographer Roger Deakins, “Skyfall” is one of the best-looking movies of the year. Especially see the night sequence where Bond trails an assassin through a Shanghai office tower, the brilliant lights of outdoor advertising displays bouncing and refracting across interior glass doors.

The script dots its reminiscences of earlier Bond escapades here and there throughout the story: gunplay in a mirrored room, a duel with a helicoptered, sliding along cracking ice. Some are large and noticeable, some small and discreet.

Best of all is return of Bond’s tricked-out Aston Martin from “Goldfinger,” complete with its still functional machine guns. The 50th anniversary of James Bond movies is a big enough deal that an unrecognizable except for the voice Albert Finney comes along for the ride. He’s of roughly the same vintage; “Tom Jones” also came out in 1963.

But there is a concerted effort — a lot of effort — to pass the baton to a new generation. Some of this is amusing, such as Bond’s first encounter with the new Q, evaluating Turners in the National Gallery. Unlike previous incarnations of the quartermaster, young Ben Whishaw likes data more than gadgets, and manages to be callow, smug and still endearing.

On the other hand, bad habits die hard. Created by Ian Fleming in a series of ripping yarns for aging lads in mid 20th Century, the Bond series still could win a Republican primary based on its attitudes toward women.

In “Skyfall,” the authoritative M is undermined and on the run, in desperate need of a Bond intervention. Eve’s performance in the field leaves something to be desired, and she disappears for long stretches. And when Bond encounters an opposition operative in the glamorous form of Bérénice Marlohe, he realizes she is a captive in the sex trade, but nevertheless proceeds into a steamy shower scene with her.

For much of its long running time, “Skyfall” is rousing yet intelligent, an action adventure with distinct characters who act from more personal motivations than just taking over the world.

But like Bond’s lifestyle, it can be wearing as it strives not just to extend the hero’s life, but to reboot his brand. “James Bond will return.”

We know, we know.

Joe Tyrrell may be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it or followed on Twitter @ jtyrrell87

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