Whole lotta shaking, very little stirring
If producer Barbara Broccoli and company wanted to show how Bond emerged to become the fully formed secret agent as essayed by Sean Connery – and perhaps Pierce Brosnan – they have succeeded. This Bond in Quantum of Solace could have been raised an inward-looking middle child, dark and brooding and without a trace of the strong sense of irony we've come to associate with cinema's favourite spy.
And had humans been allowed two-hour-long pleasure rides instead of the peaks and troughs that have defined our evolution, the sensation would be something like this 23rd installment in the franchise, which takes its title from an Ian Fleming short story.
The movie begins fast and furious, with a car chase in an Italian quarry setting the scene and flashing back to Craig's debutant Bond as seen in Casino Royale. It continues at that stratospheric plateau, rising a notch or two with subsequent chases (water and air) before coming to a nice, abrupt end.
It's supercharged, splendidly edited action all the way through (and superb action at that; take a bow, director Marc Forster, particularly for the fine opera shootout) but there is little time for reflection and relaxation. A whole lotta shaking, but not very much that is stirring. No double entendres, no quick repartee, not even a hint of a smile across those rugged features. This mean and lean Bond faces his sophomore tests of character strong and silent.
If you missed the glimpses of vulnerability Craig showed in his debut feature, go back and watch it before setting out to see Quantum: You'll need it to make sense of what is the first true sequel in the series rather than just another episode in the life of a glamourous spy.
Quantum picks up right where Casino Royale left off. Bond's need to avenge the killing of love interest Vesper Lynd dominates the script as he goes hopping about the planet in search of the mysterious organisation Quantum (a modern-day Spectre) that, as befits the best intelligence units, nobody knows anything about.
As the body count approaches a Terminator film ("If you could avoid killing every possible lead," Judi Dench's M tells him, "it would be deeply appreciated"), he manages to stymie attempts to take over Bolivia's natural resources, rescue a woman and help her find her destiny, dispatch barely adequate nemesis Dominic Greene (Mathieu Amalric) and, of course, get on the British government's wrong side.
In the process, we're exposed to advertising for nearly a dozen brands, including Alfa Romeo, Aston Martin, Ford Ka, Omega, Ocean Sky private charters and Virgin Atlantic. Nothing as jarring as the scene in Casino Royale, though, where Lynd asks, "Rolex?" and Bond replies, "No, Omega".
Forster's sharp cuts and high-voltage action (a strong response to the Bourne franchise) should ensure that the film continues the upward trend in takings the franchise has enjoyed over the last five Bond films – despite Craig's talents being severely foreshortened by a minimal script. Watch for Olga Kurylenko's Latina impression, though: A fine actress and one of the finest Bond girls seen in a long time.