Luke Quantrill reviews the Casino Royale theatrical trailer

The Scene:

Young naive vulnerable rookie schoolboy secret-agent (played by fifty-seven year old newcomer Daniel Cray) falls in love with Australian accented French, I mean British, agent Vespa Curry. I mean Lynd.

Looking like a cross between PC Carver out of 'The Bill' and Marty Feldman, Daniel Bond shoots a man in a secondary school chemistry lab and garbles something. The man he shot had perfect diction. They should have cast him as Bond.

The casino. Finally a casino film in a James Bond film, although the title of the film does give it away. Madge Nicholson sports a scar so we know he is the villain. Craig in a tuxedo looks like a footballer on a lads junket at a casino. The tuxedo is probably rented and he's drinking bacardi breezers stirred not shaken although he doesn't give a damn because he won the recipe in a card-game. Not poker or snap but superhero top-trumps. Vespa says she will look after his perfect arse. What a great line. My dear Oscar. My dear Paul. My dear Purvis. My dear Wade. My dear Talbot Rothwell.

Whatever I have, whatever is left is yours. Including the wine-gums. Don't take the black one. The swine. He's had off with my wine-gums. Daniel Hancock. The man. The legend. The art-collector. The thespian. The milkman. The voice-over.

Beginning to sweat Mr Bond? Tony Craig has a knife. A jumper. A hawain shirt. A martial-arts parkour. He takes a shower with his clothes on and, faithful to the book, all the buildings in Venice mysteriously begin to shrink.

Judi Cleese explains the plot to Daniel. It sounds familiar but without the fun, and - you know - the  dapper 007. The word 'vicarious' sprang to mind. It explained everything.

HOME

FORUM