Spectre

Director: Sam Mendes
Starring: Daniel Craig, Christoph Waltz, Léa Seydoux, Ben Whishaw, Naomie Harris, Dave Bautista, Andrew Scott, Monica Bellucci, Ralph Fiennes
Running Time: 148 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

There's always this feeling of excitement accompanying the announcement of the new actor cast as James Bond. Then, after a few films starring this selection, familiarity starts to set in and the conversation inevitably shifts to when he'll be replaced, and who's next. It's little wonder so many actors are reluctant to accept the role, knowing they'll just serve as a placeholder for whomever succeeds them, regardless of the quality of their performance. Anyone taking the part has to know that going in and be comfortable with it, at least for the duration of their run.

It now appears we've reached that tipping point with Daniel Craig, once again tremendous in his fourth outing as 007 and the franchise's twenty-fourth film, Spectre. Faced with the unenviable task of not only following up one of the strongest entries in 2012's Skyfall, but remaining engaged and entertaining when (forgive the pun) the writing's on the wall regarding his future as Bond. This is likely it, and he exits having done things with the character few before him can claim, despite being hamstrung by decades-long formula that's loosened a bit thanks to his efforts.

It's true that the films take the shape of the actor playing Bond more than they do the selected director, who is clearly there to carry out a very specific task. Of course, their job is to anonymously serve as a carrier for the Broccoli family's creative vision of the character Ian Fleming created in 1952. It's not a job that goes to a boundary-breaking Quentin Tarantino, but someone who won't rock the boat and is capable of leaving an imprint on the franchise that isn't distinctively their own. It's at once the series' greatest strength and biggest liability. And never has that been more evident than in Spectre, which is quite a bit better than some have made it out to be.

While this is thankfully no Quantum of Solace, it's a considerable and expected step-down from Skyfall, even while sharing the same director in Sam Mendes. He definitely "gets it," but a weaker, more convoluted script results in bloated running time that makes you wish we could just do away with some of the traditional formalities germane to the 007 property. But it's worth mentioning that there's a section of the film (really most of the last hour) that's absolutely amazing, harkening back to the best installments of the 60's and 70's. What precedes that is less successful, but in heavily drawing from its own past for inspiration, at least some kind of an attempt is made to create continuity from one film to the next. Whether this approach is retained moving forward is a bit more doubtful.

After a spectacular opening chase sequence set during Mexico's Day of the Dead festival in which Bond (Craig) thwarts a terrorist bombing and kills their leader, an encounter with the man's mysterious widow (Monica Belucci) alerts him to the existence of a secret terrorist organization known as Spectre. Acting on her information and a posthumously videotaped message from M. (Judi Dench), 007 attempts to infiltrate the secret group, despite being indefinitely suspended by the current M. (Ralph Fiennes) for breaching protocol.

With the help of Moneypenny (Naomie Harris) and Q. (Ben Whishaw), Bond is able to get uncomfortably close enough to identify Spectre's leader, Franz Oberhauser (Christoph Waltz), as well as his right-hand assassin, Mr. Hinx (Dave Bautista). Armed with this new information, his mission soon shifts toward protecting Dr. Madeline Swann (Léa Seydoux), the psychologist daughter of a former member marked for assassination. As Bond discovers that this sinister organization and the man behind it are more closely tied to his past than he could have imagined, he must fight this dangerous enemy while facing of the possibility that Britain's "00" program could be shut down for good.

As evidenced by that description, the plot is more overstuffed and complicated than necessary, as are a lot of the Bond films. At times it seems to jumps through hoops to relay what's actually a pretty simple story, frequently getting bogged down with exposition and backstory, at least in the opening hour (save for the thrilling opening sequence). With a screenplay outlining events as if we've never seen a previous Bond entry, it's a certainty James will go on an "unauthorized mission." That he'll be reprimanded for it and disobey direct orders anyway.  And we even get the rather predictable threat of shutting down of the "00" program, a sub-plot that exists primarily so Ralph Fiennes and Naomie Harris have something to do. It does boast a satisfying payoff that makes sense, but it's a bit of a trudge to get there as M. engages in burocratic boardroom battles with an intelligence agency executive (played by Andrew Scott).

Much of the first half consists of Bond following multiple clues that lead to the unveiling of Spectre and a lot goes right once that reveal is made. While I'm not sure if I'm even allowed to talk about the identity of Bond's nemesis, he is a huge, familiar name in the 007 canon and it's worth praising the screenwriters for their renewed focus on series continuity, picking up where Skyfall left off in that regard. If anything, the filmmakers are almost overly ambitious in this installment, determined to retcon nearly everything that occurred in the Craig films by tying it all together here. Even if they bite off more than they can possibly chew, I really appreciated the effort and dedication involved, especially since one of the major problems facing the franchise is that nothing seems to carry over from one film to the next.

There's this weird mishmash of backstory from previous Bond entries and Fleming's novels, but somehow it all works and once the action gets going, it's a real thrill ride, especially the chase and fight sequences involving 007 and Oberhauser's Oddjob-inspired henchman, Mr. Hinx, played by wrestler-turned-actor Dave Bautista. Beyond the sheer physicality of the part, it doesn't require much, but he plays it perfectly deadpan and it's been a while since we've had a fun, well-cast henchman in the series whose fate we're actually invested in.

What Léa Seydoux adds to the equation is completely subjective considering how many differing opinions they'll be regarding her standing among previous Bond Girls. Despite her late, somewhat overly drawn out introduction, she equates herself well with an impressive combo of tenaciousness and vulnerability. Dr. Madeline Swann is no Vesper Lynd from Casino Royale (as a one of the film's most memorable moments actively reminds us) or Teresa di Vicenzo from On Her Majesty's Secret Service, but for this film's purposes she really doesn't need to be. And it's not like she'll be back, which can be a problem in and of itself.

This is supposedly one of the most expensive Bond films ever made and while the lack of Oscar-nominated Skyfall cinematographer Roger Deakins is evident, replacement Hoyte van Hoytema can't be criticized for failing to equal the movie that looked like no other in the series. There's no shortage of memorable images here either, but where it makes up the most ground is in its production design, especially during the encounter at Oberhauser's desert compound (shockingly, a real home that's for sale) in the last hour. This base might be the best Bond action toy set never sold in stores and everything in this entire section is just about perfect, recalling not only the golden age 007 installments but an undiscovered cult sci-fi classic from the 70's.

The suspenseful build-up, the setting and Waltz's calm but disarmingly creepy performance lift this eleventh hour showdown in the desert above much of what came before. Technical choices are spot-on and even some smaller character ones, like Oberhauser's attire, which seems more suited for brunch at the yacht club than torturing 007. Waltz sometimes catches flak for playing variations on the same charming sociopathic villain from film-to-film, but if ever a case can be made for it continuing indefinitely, it's here. His casting was a masterstroke, and if the rumors of him returning are contingent with Craig staying on, then it's a big loss. Both in terms of continuity and the fact he's playing a villain we thought we got enough of.

Something happens at this compound that's one of the the most unintentionally meta moments in recent Bond movies. As Oberhauser threatens to physically invade James' brain and erase his memory with this bizarre device, the easy joke is that it won't even matter since in the Bond universe all is usually forgotten by the next film anyway. The best thing about Skyfall, and what Spectre continues, is rewarding loyal viewers with attention to detail and a backstory that significantly improves the entire experience.

This era found its perfect Bond in Craig, who brought a darker, grittier, more realistic vibe that fit the current times. There's been a self-contained, Dark Knight-esque feeling to his movies and now with him bowing out, it's likely we'll not only have to start from scratch all over again with a new actor, but one or more new directors. And as frustrating as that thought is, it's still absolutely necessary for a franchise that's survived and thrived by continuing to rejuvenate itself. Whichever direction the series goes, we can only hope it finds a way to step even further out of its comfort zone.               
    

Skyfall

Director: Sam Mendes
Starring: Daniel Craig, Judi Dench, Javier Bardem, Ralph Fiennes, Naomie Harris, Bérénice Marlohe, Albert Finney, Ben Whishaw
Running Time: 143 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

As far as 007 opening sequences go, they don't more thrilling than the one in Skyfall. So far, we've had 23 Bond installments. Let that sink in for a minute. It's a lot. But what's more remarkable is that we've still yet to see one that succeeds as something more than just a franchise entry and can stand on its own as an accomplishment in any genre. Too often the series is hamstrung by tradition as the producers are afraid to step out of the box and take genuine risks that might upset the core audience, but result in a superior finished product. Does anyone remember anything that happened in Quantum of Solace? Skyfall is the closest we've come to perfection and its opening minutes reflect that. It's less shocking in hindsight when you consider Bond can't just die but this entry completes a transformation that's been hinted at for half a century, but really started building since Daniel Craig put on the tux in Casino Royale. He's now a full-fledged, reality-based superhero. In other words, the character's basically evolved into Batman.

Much of the picture's first half plays as a classic Bond tribute, at least until director Sam Mendes pulls the rug out to deliver what might be the craziest entry since On Her Majesty's Secret Service. As a non-fan of the franchise, it was a much needed diversion, since the more often a Bond film veers from tradition, or at least puts an exciting spin on it, the better the result. Helping a great deal is that it's visually more impressive than any previous outing and features a villain that's genuinely terrifying and dangerous. But let's just call this what it really is: Bond as The Dark Night. Mendes has acknowledged the similarities, but what's surprising is just how much of Christopher Nolan's influence seems to be all over the picture, even lifting a specific plot point. There's no denying the strategy worked. It's the strongest entry in years, and the first in a while that doesn't feel behind the times.

After being left for dead in an enthralling pre-credit train sequence, James Bond (Craig) is back after a short seclusion, though certainly not better than ever. Wounded, weak, and even lacking his  usual confident swagger, M (Judi Dench) controversially decides to put him back on active duty despite not being even close to ready. His job is to retrieve the hard drive that slipped through his fingers earlier and contains the names of undercover agents placed in terrorist organizations.  Standing in his way is cyber-terrorist Raoul Silva (Javier Bardem), a creepy sociopath whose actual motives remain cloudy from the get-go, yet become painfully clearer as his twisted plan unfolds with brilliant precision. Despite help from M., MI6 agent Eve (Naomie Harris), nerdy, gadget-savvy Q (Ben Whishaw), M's Intelligence superior Gareth Mallory (Ralph Fiennes), and possibly even Silva's mysterious mistress Séverine (Bérénice Marlohe), this marks one of the few times Bond seems legitimately outmatched by an adversary.

Since Craig took over the role, much fuss has been made about the franchise's detour into more serious territory, all but abandoning the series' cheekier aspects that have been so prevalent over the years.This badder, meaner Bond reached its self-serious peak with Quantum of Solace, which was so derivative and slickly packaged it became indistinguishable from your latest Bourne installment. It was also a real bore that featured a dour Craig performance, making me wonder whether a return to some cheesiness was in order. But if you watch most of those old Bond movies (particularly the Roger Moore entries), they are very much a product of their time, and not in a good way. Sam Mendes could be on paper the most accomplished director to tackle 007 and proves it here by getting serious right. There are some minor pacing problems in the early going, but the plot isn't a slog and supporting characters are actually fleshed out.

Mendes makes it feel like a contemporary action vehicle, but also a Bond movie willing to take risks while still maintaining loyalty to the Ian Fleming source. Perhaps borrowing from Nolan's recent portrayal of Commissioner Gordon, this is the first time Dench's M has been given anything more to do than stand behind a desk and act as a figurehead. She's not only showcased as an important piece of the puzzle here, but even promoted to a Bond sidekick of sorts. She also does some unlikable things and makes questionable decisions that causes Bond (and us) to rightfully doubt her judgment and consider whether she's exceeded her expiration date. But the bigger question might be whether 007 has exceeded his with Craig given the rare opportunity to play a weakened, vulnerable Bond, or at least the most vulnerable he's been since the concluding events of Casino Royale.

If these movies tend to only be as as good as their villain than Javier Bardem's bone-chilling work as Silva goes a long way. Strangely effeminate and almost flamboyantly wacked out, Silva's like no other Bond baddie we've recently seen, and comes complete with a backstory that's intricately fleshed out and surprisingly personal. There's a lot of juice behind his motives and Bardem takes full advantage, relishing the chance to play Silva as a bizarre cross  between Heath Ledger and Cesar Romero's Jokers and Anton Sigurh from No Country For Old Men. He'd walk away with the film, if not for the fact that, as lensed by the still Oscar-less Roger Deakins, it's the most visually pleasing Bond entry of all-time, with hardly a shot undeserving of being framed and hung in a gallery. This is especially true of a captivating Shangai assassination sequence and the film's finale, in which Silva physically lends even more credence to that theory that some men just want to see the world burn. Even if you detested everything else about the film, just the cinematography alone would still be reason enough to recommend this to anyone without hesitation.

If there's a weak plot link, it's Marlohe's Bond girl, who serves little purpose other than to hop in the sack (or in this case, shower) with him, which given the all business nature of this installment seems particularly ill-fitting. If she's there to merely fill a quota, Naomie Harris proves to be the exact opposite as MI6 agent Eve and, without giving too much away, proves in her few impactful scenes to be worthy of sticking around. If she's more than a field agent, than Bond is finally shown in this installment to be something more than just number, complete with a personal history that's inventively woven into the screenplay. A bearded Albert Finney is Kinkade, the caretaker of Bond's childhood home and though he plays the role well, it's impossible not to imagine that it was tailor made for the retired ex-007 Sean Connery. But no conversation about Skyfall is complete without mentioning Adele's Oscar-winning title song, a classic throwback that earns her a spot in the Bond theme hall of fame alongside Shirley Bassey, Carly Simon, Paul McCartney and Duran Duran.   

The general consensus is that each time a new Bond entry is released, it's treated as a reboot, disregarding much of what came before in order to re-energize the franchise so it continues to stick around for the long haul. But this is the first entry in a while that really does feel like a full reboot, despite its heavy influence from another series of recent films. It's also features stronger plotting and a more distinctive visual style than Casino Royale, which garnered much of its praise because of a massive change in tone, the debut of a new actor in the role of 007 and one of the franchise's more compelling love interests. While it proved exceptional at re-introducing Bond to contemporary audiences, it's still really hard not to prefer Skyfall, which simply does more with what it has, inching closer to that seemingly impossible holy grail of a perfect James Bond movie. It definitely puts Craig back in the driver's seat but sometimes you have to wonder how much of this franchise's success depends on that. It always seems to be everything else that's changing around him.

Revolutionary Road

Director: Sam Mendes
Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Kate Winslet, Michael Shannon, Kathy Bates, David Harbour, Kathryn Hahn, Dylan Baker
Running Time: 118 min.
Rating: R

★★★ 1/2 (out of ★★★★)

There's nothing worse than waking up and discovering you've turned into your parents. If you have, you consider yourself a failure while the rest of society thinks you're a success. If you haven't, you consider yourself a success while the rest of society labels you a failure. Chalk it up as a no-win. That's the dilemma facing Frank Wheeler (Leonardo DiCaprio) in Sam Mendes' trying but almost brilliant Revolutionary Road. Adapted from Richard Yates' acclaimed 1961 novel it does the unthinkable in actually bringing a different take to not only my absolute favorite genre of film, but one that's admittedly been explored to death. Just not from an angle like this.

For once we're presented with characters who are fully aware of the suburban hell they've trapped themselves in and are clawing and fighting to escape. But the harder they fight, the deeper they sink. Mendes skips the formalities with only a single scene depicting the first encounter between Frank and his future wife, April (Kate Winslet). They meet at a cocktail party and hit it off. He made her laugh. There isn't much laughing after that as minutes later we flash forward a few years and they're at each others throats. That trend continues throughout the duration of the picture, nearly suffocating us with their emotional intensity and marital discord.

Frank works in marketing at Knox Business Machines, following in the footsteps of his late father who was employed there for twenty years. He despises it. In an unforgettable shot we see him blend in amidst a sea of flannel suits and bowler hats in New York's bustling Grand Central Station. Everyone looks the same. Scratch that. They are the same. He celebrates his thirtieth birthday by sleeping with a young secretary whose primary appeal to him is that she's the only woman around naively impressed by anything he does. Frank and April, along with their two kids, have just moved into their new home on Revolutionary Road, located in a very wealthy Connecticut suburb because that's "just what you do."

While on the surface their lives resemble a Norman Rockwell painting, it's all a put-on. April comes up with a crazy idea for Frank to just quit his job so they can move to Paris where she'll support him with a high-paying government secretarial position while he gathers time to decide what he wants to do with the rest of his life. Their plan is pretty revolutionary for a time when society's expectations of gender roles in a marriage are very clearly defined. Equally important is keeping up with the Jones,' or rather the Campbells (David Harbour and Kathryn Hahn), who are sent into a tailspin by the Wheeler's news, causing them to examine issues they'd rather leave alone. The Paris move is set into motion until things are heavily complicated by a surprise pregnancy and a golden opportunity presented to Frank at work. That, and a visit from an unwelcome houseguest, causes their already shaky marriage to devastatingly fracture.

The 1950's have taken a beating in cinema as the decade of boredom, conformity and repression, leading us to ask: "Was it really THAT bad?" But the truth is that this film could have taken place during any decade and still have rang just as true. When the middling box office returns came in for this it wasn't exactly a surprise audiences weren't in the mood to hear or see a wealthy suburban couple whine and complain about their lives as we struggle through an economic recession. There's the temptation to avoid any movie that could possibly remind us of life's very problems, especially if it features characters this realistic...or even worse, "UNLIKABLE." As someone who feels Hollywood's been spoon feeding us false optimism in the past year it was a relief to see a film at least try to tackle serious life issues head-on and ask important, socially relevant questions.

You very often hear people these days utter the phrase "I'm lucky just to have a job." So true, but have you noticed it mostly seems to be uttered by people who hate their jobs? As if they feel guilty and are saying it to motivate themselves to keep going. That's Frank Wheeler. Similarly, when a woman is pregnant our first inclination is always to congratulate them but have you ever thought why? There's a tremendous amount of financial and emotional stress that comes with raising a child and some people just aren't built for it because they're too selfish or irresponsible. Maybe they're only having children because their biological clocks are ticking or all their friends are. April Wheeler falls into both categories. But what makes this couple differ from other spoiled characters who have populated cinema's suburban hell through the decades is that they know (or think they know) what's happening and are desperate to escape, completely unaware that changing everything around them won't necessarily do that.

Paris isn't a pipe dream, but April's IDEA of what moving there will do for them just might be. They come up with all the right questions but answer them all wrong by trying to alter every external detail in their lives without first working on themselves or their relationship, although any marriage that would require this much work might not be worth salvaging to begin with. This leads to the question of how much work should a marriage should take before throwing in the towel.  Unfortunately, doing that just wasn't a viable option for couples during this era. Divorce would have been even more frowned upon than just picking up and moving to Paris. When the Wheelers' gregarious Realtor friend Helen Givings (played to perfection by the great Kathy Bates) decides it would be a good experience for her mentally unstable son John (Michael Shannon), to meet the young couple I cringed, but hearing about Shannon's Oscar nominated supporting performance couldn't have really prepared me.

Shannon's John acts as kind of a bridge between the two halves of the film, popping in to call Frank and April out on their hypocrisy. A former mathematician on leave from the psychiatric hospital, he's ironically the only character who truly understands the problem and isn't afraid to say so...bluntly. When he feels betrayed by the Wheelers, he pushes them to their breaking point, leading to an electrifying confrontation that rivals the deli scene in The Wrestler as the scariest and most uncomfortable few minutes committed to film in 2008. Shannon occupies only minutes of screen time, but he's like a tornado ripping through the picture, leaving a wreckage of distress and shock that stays with the couple (and viewers) long after he departs. There's definitely no shame losing the Best Supporting Actor Oscar to Heath Ledger but the irony there is that Shannon basically comes in and plays his own twisted version of the Joker for two huge scenes. The similarities are eerie.

There's little point arguing whether Kate Winslet's Oscar winning performance in The Reader was more or less deserving of the statue than her work here. They're two completely different parts that call for entirely different performances, the former obviously being the flashier, more Academy-skewing role. It isn't difficult to see why they nominated her for that instead. Both are deserving, but I prefer her more understated, no less challenging turn here, which wouldn't have been possible without DiCaprio, who equals her in every way.

Winslet may be given more notes to hit but DiCaprio is even more impressive, inhabiting a man at war with himself, resentful of society's expectations of him, but too afraid to do anything about it. So he takes it out on his wife. For years DiCaprio has very deliberately made more mature choices as an actor but because of his youthful appearance it's been an uphill climb. None of that is due to of a lack of talent since he's given great performances each time out (with his work in The Departed and The Aviator topping the list), but rather a certain preconceived bias from audiences that he's "too young" for these types of roles. No one can say that about this, his most mature, fully realized performance. He becomes Frank Wheeler in 1950's suburban Connecticut. Just watch his face in the the scene when he returns home to find April and his kids surprising him for his birthday.

Fans of Titanic who waited over a decade to see the re-teaming of Kate and Leo will probably want to hang themselves by the time the final credits roll. This is not an epic romance, or even a romance at all. Despite the fact it was misleadingly marketed as Titanic 2, there isn't a single romantic element in it. It's closer to a horror movie. Think Pleasantville meets Rosemary's Baby with a side helping of Mad Men thrown in for good measure. I'm convinced the hate-filled scenes the two actors share wouldn't have been possible if they weren't really close friends (which they supposedly are) and a very high comfort level must have been there for them to go at each other like they do.

Director Sam Mendes explored this kind of material before with 1999's Best picture winner, American Beauty, but he isn't just repeating himself. This is a far different film, set in a different era and Justin Haythe's screenplay doesn't feel quite as calculated. That's not a knock on Beauty but rather an indictment that the two share anything other than the exploration of a crumbling marriage in the suburbs. Strangely enough, it also doesn't remind me of the most recent flag bearer for this type of movie, Todd Field's Little Children, even though they share an actress in Winslet and Field was originally attached to this project. That film seemed to have a more satirical slant and bite that this lacks, making the two different enough that this film doesn't suffer that greatly in comparison.

Technically, it's a flawless motion picture. There isn't a single wasted shot or moment. The best cinematographer working today, Roger Deakins, tops himself again by bringing the '50's to vivid life with dreamlike precision while the production and costume design is so authentic its frightening. Thomas Newman's subtle piano score comfortably fits the film like a glove. Even the film's most biggest detractors would have to concede it's a top notch production and better put together than any other recent adult drama. I'm curious if it'll hold up moving forward or go the way of just about every other supposedly great film of 2008 and lose its power on repeated viewings. It does seem like the kind of picture you respect and admire in terms of craftsmanship, but can't love because it keeps you at arm's length. We'll just have to see how time treats it and whether, like the similarly themed The Ice Storm, it experiences a critical resurgence down the line.

I understand why this movie failed commercially but am still in complete disbelief that it wasn't better received by critics or the Academy. It would seem tailor-made for them except for the fact that they made up their minds this past year that they'd rather not be challenged or pushed by mainstream entertainment. This isn't easy to watch and full appreciation requires almost full surrender into a state of total despair. Not an easy thing to do. You have to be a hardcore cynic or have a generally pessimistic view of human nature to enjoy it, and even then, I'm not sure the word "enjoy" applies. If you didn't like it, you should probably be relieved. That my favorite genre of film usually features characters who emotionally hurt one another scares me to no end, but it doesn't depress me. What really depressing is when movies insult our intelligence by chickening out.

When the film ended though I wasn't left with the feeling of hopelessness you'd expect after sitting through what's essentially less a movie than an ordeal. That's because of one well-placed, superbly performed scene before the finale hinting that maybe Frank and April finally "got it." Maybe the key for them was finding a healthy balance somewhere between the hope and despair and, at least for a brief, passing moment, they did. It may make everyone feel better about themselves to classify these these people as unlikable but the reality is more complicated. Take away the suburban setting. Place it in another decade. It doesn't really matter. The problems are universal, the story is timeless. Revolutionary Road offers up a new reason why we shouldn't turn into our parents: They may have been even more screwed up than us.