Cue explosions, architectural carnage and vertigo-inducing physical combat in a helicopter careering perilously over the city’s crowded Zocalo square. Weaving through the jubilant masses, Hoyte van Hoytema’s dust-veiled camera alights on Bond in masked skeleton costume, luring a local bombshell (“Miss Bala’s” Stephanie Sigman) back to his hotel room before the quickest of quick changes finds him suited, booted and planting a hit on venal Italian mafioso Sciarra (Alessandro Cremona) from the rooftop.
A handful of wily quips, meanwhile, point to the addition of rough-and-tumble Brit playwright Jez Butterworth to the sturdy “Skyfall” writing team of John Logan, Neal Purvis and Robert Wade.Ĭonsequently, there’s a little more room in “Spectre” for Bond’s customary hobbies - globe-trotting, red-blooded lady-killing and cold-blooded not-lady-killing - than in the comparatively contemplative “Skyfall.” The tone is set by an enthrallingly, expensively ludicrous opening sequence, set in Mexico City on the Day of the Dead, that ranks among the great 007 intros. And while Daniel Craig’s reputation as the series’ sternest Bond stands intact when the ride - rumored to be his last - is over, his half-smile count is higher than usual. The indefatigable agent’s solution, and in turn the film’s, is to get stoically back to work almost as if if nothing had happened, and let the baggage emerge where it may. The death of Judi Dench’s M at the climax of “Skyfall” raised the personal stakes for the usually impermeable Bond in a fashion that can’t be automatically repeated one installment later. Wilson and Barbara Broccoli have, somewhat paradoxically, set out to surprise by resetting the status quo - albeit with a few administrative complications. Yet even before the opening credits are cued up (accompanied by Sam Smith’s dreary, melody-averse theme song, thankfully the least propulsive thing here), one senses that Mendes and producers Michael G.
Roger Deakins), and a hefty (if not entirely justified) runtime of 148 minutes, “Spectre” outwardly appears to be shooting for equivalently grandiose status. With Mendes’ tony cachet once more in place (minus the co-piloting of revered d.p. The franchise may have been a consistent performer over 53 years, but never before has it been saddled with the prestige-pic expectations that the new film is now notionally expected to meet. The series-crowning crossover success of “Skyfall” three years ago - yielding not just $1 billion worldwide but breathless reviews, two Oscars and even a BAFTA for best British film - places “Spectre” in a tricky returning position. awaits, though it remains to be seen whether the “Skyfall” is the limit. A wealth of iconography - both incidental and integral - from the series’ founding chapters is revived here, making “Spectre” a particular treat for 007 nerds, and a businesslike blast for everyone else. What’s missing is the unexpected emotional urgency of “Skyfall,” as the film sustains its predecessor’s nostalgia kick with a less sentimental bent.
Sam Mendes’ second consecutive Bond outing again passes its physical with flying colors: Ricocheting from London to Rome to Morocco across action sequences of deliriously daft extravagance, the pic accumulates a veritable Pompeii of mighty, crumbling structures. It’s a statement that could be viewed as a pre-emptive spoiler, a sly double-bluff or a swaggering boast from a death-defying franchise that, following the soaring success of “Skyfall,” couldn’t be in ruder health. “The dead are alive” are the very first words printed onscreen in “ Spectre,” the 24th and far-from-last James Bond adventure.
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