Quantum of Fun

Quantum of Fun

Posted on December 1st, 2008 by Olga Gardner Galvin

So, this weekend, we finally saw the curiously anhedonic Quantum of Solace. It started off well enough, with a solid car chase and a lot of expensive damage, but when it skipped the traditional James Bond theme opening and went straight to a really, really bad song, I knew it was going to be a bumpy ride.

I liked Casino Royale. I was willing to be open-minded and accept a “departure from the traditional franchise” with a James Bond who doesn’t care whether his martini is shaken or stirred, and isn’t even sure what a martini is; who is an orphan with a working-class background; who needs to be taught to use utensils and dress properly; and who wears his emotional issues on his sleeve — with none of the polish of any previous Bonds.

But then came Quantum of Solace, and it was bad. Sure, there have been James Bond movies that didn’t have a plot, but somehow it was understood that if you don’t have enough material to fill the space between chases and explosions, you throw in more chases and explosions. In this movie, incongruously directed by an artsy indie director Mark Forster (Monster Ball, Finding Neverland, and Stranger Than Fiction — which one of the three qualifies a guy to direct a James Bond movie?), the chases were . . . rationed. Perhaps as a metaphor to reflect the scam the bad guys were trying to perpetrate on Peru. There was one car chase, one boat chase, and one air-vehicle chase (a plane vs. a chopper). That’s it. It was so littered with wasted opportunities for more chases you could practically hear them crunch underfoot. There was also a scene that I swear was plagiarized from Harold and Kumar Escape From Guantanamo Bay, only in Harold and Kumar it made more sense because it did involve at least one parachute.

Harold and Kumar was also spiritually closer to the classic James Bond movies because the characters had more fun. But to say that somebody had more fun than Daniel Craig’s James Bond is to say nothing. Craig’s Bond is a steely-eyed, grim-jawed bulldozer. He doesn’t seem to have a very good understanding of his missions — if it’s not killing everybody in sight, he’s not sure what his mission is, except “Hulk smash!!!” C’mon, if the guy is not having any fun after six martinis, there’s no hope. So, after the roguish Sean Connery, the self-deprecating Roger Moore, I’ve never seen the George Lazenby one, the awkwardly cast but still suave Timothy Dalton, and the debonair Pierce Brosnan, we are handed an alcoholic psycho who gets girls naked without making any effort, by some sort of a sense of entitlement — without even removing the stick out of his ass or cracking a smile, with one line: “I can’t seem to find the stationery. Would you like to help me look for it?” Gentlemen, please do not try this at home. Or, what do I care, see if it works and let me know.

Craig is signed up for two more Bond pictures, but if he doesn’t start enjoying himself soon, this franchise will end in tears. Already Q is gone, because this Bond likes to rely on his brutal physical force rather than interesting gadgets that might be entertaining for all involved. Already M is not doing her job anymore, because all her energy is spent trying to keep this one out-of-control employee on track — and failing. (Besides, she’s heavy-handedly informed by her boss that the villains are the only ones left to trade with, so she shouldn’t try too hard to save the world from them.) Already the villains are disposable flunkies of some other, unseen, yet more villainous force threaded from the first movie into the second and, now, probably into the next, which keeps the movie from being self-contained and makes it into more of an episode of a TV drama. In fact, the dynamic between M and Bond now resembles nothing so much as the dynamic (the professional part of it) between Dr. Cuddy and Dr. House on the TV show House, M.D. She’s trying to get her job done, which involves keeping things together and under control. He’s hell-bent on plowing his way through the day to the chorus of the demons’ voices in his head. She yells and puts her foot down. He rolls his eyes, says “You’re not my mother” or something to that effect, and keeps doing his own thing. She gives in and lets him. House usually ends with Cuddy and House accomplishing something useful despite themselves, with a minimal mortality rate. Not to resort to spoilers, but Quantum of Action doesn’t.