There is no way "No Time to Die," the latest in the James Bond saga, can be completely satisfying; not only does it mark Daniel Craig's (allegedly) final time playing the double O, it was also delayed for over a year due to the pandemic. That is a lot of baggage to handle, and for some, it'll be the first time they step into an actual theater, and for what? Big explosions that seem just as big as they did the last time.
That's not to say it's in anyway a bad movie- it spruces up the franchise's well-worn formula with a few modifications, just as any entry would. Just that those expectations are far too grand to be surpassed by something so competent. "Competent" would otherwise be completely suitable had this been released in another time, but alas here we are, the world's first "3D" (conversion) Bond is also the first "face-mask required at this establishment" Bond.
The plot is needlessly complicated, the runtime is excessive, and our hero continues to be a great shot while a myriad of henchmen can't seem to hit his bulky frame, yet it's all classic "Bond." He finds himself surrounded by beautiful beaches (this time in Italy), beautiful women (including but not limited to a fresh CIA agent played by Ana de Armas, who trades stoicism for quirkiness with refreshing results), and some very bad men (mostly Rami Malek as the facially-scarred Safin, the primary villain, and a few others who I won't spoil). Yet even with a megalomaniac on the loose, we still find time to swing by and visit an old nemesis (Christopher Waltz as Blofeld), drink a few dry martinis, kill some people, kiss others, drink some more, get scolded by M (Ralph Fiennes), get thanked by M, among a whole lot of other pitstops. It's cinema comfort food on the big screen (and I saw it on a very big screen).
These are all the ingredients in James Bond stew, and I recalled wonderful moments of earlier moments in the series between its general familiarity and callbacks. I sunk into my reclining leather chair with warmth despite the constant blowing of hopefully filtered air-conditioned air, it's a great feeling to be lost in a different place in one's life.
But I don't think that's the point of this very expensive moving picture show. When I snapped out of it and paid attention, what I saw happening was never thrilling enough, funny enough, entertaining enough. The only thing that this Bond "era" does differently is provide an overarching story, with finishing up what happened in Craig's four former flicks, but that doesn't make him any more interesting. More vulnerable sure, but it's been over a decade and I'm sorry, I just can't keep all the silly little plotlines in line. Does that make me a bad "007 fan?" Maybe, but it doesn't make me a bad "No Time to Die" viewer.
James Bond baddies always have some ridiculous plot to take over the world, destroy the world, or make a lot of money indirectly ruining the world, and this one's no different: a deadly nanobot fog capable of targeting specific DNA, from a person to an entire nationality. It's ironic that a picture delayed by the covid-19 virus would be about, well, what is effectively a super-virus. This element gives the film a relative sense of realism, a breath of fresh air from all the musty nuclear weapon plots of past pictures, but then you realize that in the same movie, on two separate occasions, two different characters get shot multiple times only to get up and walk around.
But I'm getting carried away because none of this really matters. I'm not about to sit here and write why I think one film is better than another or why one actor is a better representation of the literary spy than someone else. "No Time to Die" is a James Bond picture, and that's what matters.
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