Monday, November 27, 2006

Gummi Bears Are Not Enough

The best part of any James Bond movie is the first five minutes. It's like a little movie-within-a-movie. James looks suave! James drives fast! James gets the girl! There's a plot twist! And (this is my favorite part) it ends with that unmistakable Bond music, the James Bond silhouette, and the inevitable animated title sequence over an entertaining yet forgettable theme song. (Except View to a Kill, you can't forget double D).

I'm a bit of a punctuality freak even in the most relaxed circumstances. In college, I may have showed up to my 7:50 Psych class in my jammies, but I was always five minutes early. When it comes to movies, I practically suffer a panic attack if I think I'm going to miss the previews. I LOVE the previews. I once attended a film called Trailer Camp that consisted of nothing but previews. And if I miss the beginning of a film, I may as well just walk out of the theatre and go home because I spend the next hour and fifty minutes wondering if I would understand the nuances of the story so much better if I'd seen the beginning. And I pout. And blame everyone else in my vicinity for ruining the movie for me.

You can probably guess where this is going. On Saturday, we showed up at the theatre five minutes after the scheduled kickoff of Casino Royale. I had arisen from a nap just a few minutes late, you see, but we weren't in a rush. Because every other time we've attended a movie at this theatre, we sat through twenty minutes of avant-garde ice cream bar ads and the same trailer for that Harrison Ford bank heist movie with German dubbing. So we figured, no problem. WE WERE WRONG. And when we stumbled into the theatre, the credits and clever animation were already onscreen. CURSES! So I scowled as I watched Daniel Craig leap off the construction crane, and kiss the girl in the skin tight red dress, and Jeff tried to comfort me with gummi bears.

It took me at least 30 minutes to get over my pout (and to stop cursing myself for my nap addiction), but eventually I was able to follow the movie. All in all, a good flick. I like Daniel Craig as Bond, he's got the smarts and the focus, but I missed the twinkle in his eye and the smoothness of his predecessors. He seems to have become a bit of a thug, beating his enemies to death and stomping around like the Terminator instead of using his clever gadgets and dispatching the baddies with a silent shot. But I sense that the storytellers are hoping the audience will stick with them on Bond's journey from killer to spy, and I'm willing to trust them for at least one more film. As long as they continue to employ the actor's personal trainer.

Just to demonstrate how very neurotic I am, (and how well my husband knows me and how nice he is to me), I'll admit that after the movie ended Jeff asked the usher if we could stick around five minutes for the next showing of the movie and watch the beginning. So we did. And here's where I was disappointed. No plot twist, No kiss. A bunch of blood and violence. AND NO BOND THEME. So, Barbara Broccoli, I'm not going to stop watching your movies, but next time I promise to be on time if you'll promise to return to formula. Or I'm going to get cranky and start blaming you for my bad mood.

1 comment:

EuroTrippen said...

Awww, that IS a good husband!