Thursday, November 28, 2002 :::

Let it be known that I adore James Bond. Over-the-top pyrotechnics, unbelieveably cheesy lines, unnecessary skin, one-sided villains, farfetched evil schemes, obvious plot twists, gratuitous sex... everything the average American looks for in a good, old-fashioned American movie, only starring a British accent. Nevermind that it has more plotholes than a Swiss cheese factory and more whacked-out Bad Science than... well... another James Bond movie. We embrace it for its cheesiness. We laugh at its fire-and-ice women in the "torture" scene and delightfully ponder over what kind of crack the special effects team was smoking.

Good old James. I'm willing to bet he's responsible for at least 83% of the worldwide spread of STDs.

I won't worry about spoiling the plot, because when you get right down to it, pretty much all James Bond movies are identical. Evil Nazis/Russians/North Koreans/Taliban members/Iraquis/Canadians create a weapon of mass destruction with the intent to use it on Equally Good Old Uncle Sam. Bond races to the rescue, leaving expensive gadgets and sexy women in his wake. This time, it's the dastardly North Koreans, led by a former North Korean-turned-European* daredevil diamond dealer Gustav Graves, Suma Cum Laude at the school of "You only live once, so try as hard as possible to kill yourself". He and his plucky team of scientists (sorry, the lackey is no match for Alan Cumming in Goldeneye) launch their own mini-Death Star, a satellite capable of focusing the sun's rays into a highly-concentrated energy beam of doom, with the intent of obliterating James Bond and his pesky girlfriend, not to mention America and a chain of land-mines that stop them from invading South Korea. They call it the Icarus, showing that they also received degrees from the school of "Just because we name our creation after a foolish, doomed character from Greek Mythology, it doesn't mean that our creation is doomed as well!"

Actually, I just said that in order to use the word "doom" a few more times.

Anyway, after brief excursions in North Korea, Hong Kong, and Cuba (accompanied by the usual gunfire, explosions, and obligatory one-night-stand), Bond races off to Iceland*** to fight evil with fencing dynamo Miranda Frost (because he's come a long way since Pussy Galore) and "Jinx", a woman with an ever-changing bust size. Jinx is probably the most pointless Bond girl in recent memory. She does not make you go "Huzzah, girl power!". You do not get attatched to her. She exists in the realm of "I had the potential to be cool, but I was too busy a) getting captured, b) getting rescued, c) having sex with James, or d) looking good in a bikini". Oh well, you can't win 'em all.

As half the audience oogles Halle Berry, the other half oogles Bond's new Invisible Car, a delightful bit of pseudoscience fluff that makes no sense technologically but sure looks keen in the Special Effects department. The entire audience [schn]oogles John Cleese as Q. Now, let's take a small break from the plot to think of how much money the government puts into this man. When James Bond dies, all of Britain is going to receive a 50% tax break.

In the end, Bond saves the girl, vanquishes evil, and destroys the controls for the Death Sta-- Icarus, while Jinx reveals Frost to be a double agent and indulges in some scantily clad swordfighting. We are forced to watch as Ferrari after beautiful Ferrari is jettisoned from the plane to allow for the plucky duo's helicopter escape. And that's our story. As I leave the theatre and reflect on the changing nature of Bond's villains, I wonder if the next Indiana Jones movie will still feature Harrison Ford battling Nazis. Good old Nazis. You always know where you are, fighting Nazis. But that's a discussion for a future entry. Now my parents are calling me down to dinner. Turkey leftovers. How novel.


* Via the miracles of genetic manipulation**.
** Namely bone marrow replacement. Don't question it, just accept it and move on.
*** Let's say it together, children. Iceland is covered in green, Greenland is covered in ice.

Note: if you have any comments, post them in my blog. Blogger ate our template, so I had to recreate it from scratch, and I'm clueless when it comes to YACCS installation. Anyone want to give it a go? Renata?
::: frowled Priscilla at 6:58 PM