Ever since I first became cognizant of the world around me, I have been an ardent fan of action movies. Although I never had the opportunity to grow up with older action demigods like The Duke or Henry Fonda (I think they're all hokey anyway), I DID have the chance to cultivate my current love for action thanks to a few guys known as Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sylvester Stallone, Steven Seagal, and the king of all action stars, Bruce Willis. These guys simply epitomized action cinema. If one of these four wasn't blowing shit up with more armament than the Indian army, he was beating the shit out of the guy next to him. You see, I had the great fortune to grow up in a time when action cinema was already passed its awkward stage, but not yet to the current state of being inundated with obscure martial artisty. The heroes were unstoppable; their appetite for destruction-- insatiable. And most importantly, they punctuated their sentences with either a bullet or a fist sandwich. There was very little kung fu crapola. Yet sadly, quite a bit has changed since those two decades of yore. Most action films today should not be put on the Action shelves at movie stores; rather, they belong in the Martial Arts section or, better yet, the dumpster out back.
With that said, I was very apprehensive about going to see James Bond's newest installment, Die Another Day. I have been a fan of Ian Fleming's British secret agent since his inception as Sean Connery in 1962 (of course, by this I mean all the movies), all the way up to Pierce Brosnan's first Bond portrayal in Goldeneye. However, a problem started there. The two subsequent movies, Tomorrow Never Dies and The World is Not Enough, lingered in my senses like the stench from a broken toilet that someone crapped in a month ago. I really can't say why, but ever since December of 1997, Bond had begun to suck. Unless you're one of those mutants that drools over cars you'll never be able afford and women you'll never be able to pork, these movies were just no fun. Again, my cold feet nearly stopped me from seeing Die Another Day.
Thank God for warm theaters. Any misgivings I had about watching this film were vanquished in the first 15 minutes. This, my friends, is how an action movie should be. Death is not delivered by spinning roundhouses, eagle claws, and bicycle kicks, but rather by copious amounts of ammunition and white-knuckle thrashing. Yes, by "white-knuckle thrashing" I mean fist-fighting, that long lost art of winning a battle by dishing out more pain to the other guy's face and stomach than he can deliver back. Indeed, very early in the film Bond is engaged in a fight with an asian guy who, of course, fights with the Stupidae Fuckwon Bullshitdo arts. In the midst of the flailing chop barrage, Bond answers with his own technique-- a wound-up right cross straight to the fucking nose. At the first sign of this pugilistic relic of my cinematic past, I nearly leapt from my seat and screamed like a 12-year-old girl at an O-Town concert. I almost gave the movie an A+ just for that one little scene alone.
The rest of Die Another Day is contiguous with the action-packed opening sequence. If I wasn't grinning wickedly at the violence, I was laughing at the clever humor or blushing at the strong sexual suggestiveness. I'm not kidding-- this movie has some of the raunchiest dialogue I've ever seen in a PG-13 movie. And in this day and age, that's saying something. Check this out: at the end of the film Halle Berry can be heard saying "Don't take it out yet; leave it in just a little longer" while moaning provocatively. I think even an African Pigmy with no concept of the English language would pick up on that line. To what Halle Berry is referring.... I'll let you find out.
Aside from the plotline, all the actors do a fine job. Halle Berry adds a nice "I can actually act" touch to the Bond girl lineage, and Pierce Brosnan turns in one of the finest performances of his James Bond career. John Cleese is actually funny as Agent Q in this installment, and Judy Dench is as much of a bulldyke as ever, reprising her role as Agent M. Even the bad guys are convincing enough, adding that extra spice required to make a 007 film what it ought to be.
My complaints with the movie are few and far between. There were a few odd moments, such as watching Bond drive his Aston Martin V12 around on ice like Mario Andretti having an epileptic seizure, without the least attention paid to the fact that ice is by its nature SLIPPERY. To the film's credit, tire studs were used, but that was later on, and only for a moment. Also, the AM Vanquish's cloaking device appears to distort the air and matter around it rather than make the car totally invisible, so only Ray Charles would have trouble finding it. And that's not even taking into account the raucous noise a V12 engine would make, visible or not. I guess great technology would be futile without the stupid bad guys to use it against. Lastly, I need to acknowledge that cacophony that is the newest Bond theme song. Of course, it has no real effect on my overall feelings about the movie, but this music was so bad, I thought the theater's speaker system was on the fritz. Like Eminem says, nobody listens to techno.
All in all, I was extremely pleased with Die Another Day, for a multitude of reasons. I can only hope that the next (and final for Pierce Brosnan) Bond flick retains the vigor and excitement of this one, without falling back into the Pit of Perpetual Idiocy it once inhabited with the likes of The Transporter and Driven. Regardless, at least for now I can sleep peacefully with the knowledge that, to quote a good movie buddy of mine:
"Bond is so freakin' back." |
