Film Review: Spectre (2015)

The James Bond franchise, having endured for more than half a century, has survived through a willingness to adapt to changing circumstances. Its previous instalment, Skyfall, represented perhaps the most radical departure from Ian Fleming's original formula: a dark, at times intimate drama in which a weary, middle-aged protagonist spent less time battling colourful villains and more wrestling with his own demons. Critics embraced this shift as the series' most significant refreshment to date, and audiences responded in kind. Spectre, directed once again by Sam Mendes, attempts to continue along this path, but with noticeably less intensity—and considerably less success.

The film's title alone signals its intentions. Following Skyfall's "reboot" of the series' supporting cast—Naomie Harris as the new Moneypenny, Ben Whishaw as Q, Ralph Fiennes as M—Spectre completes the restoration by pitting Bond against his most enduring adversary: the criminal organisation SPECTRE, led by Ernst Stavro Blofeld. The narrative opens promisingly enough in Mexico City, where Bond, acting on unofficial orders from the previous M, infiltrates a Day of the Dead celebration to eliminate a gangster with suspected links to the shadowy organisation. This spectacular pre-credits sequence, featuring an unbroken tracking shot through streets teeming with hundreds of costumed extras, represents the film's high-water mark. Tragically, nothing that follows comes close to matching it.

What follows is a globe-trotting investigation that takes Bond from Rome to the Austrian Alps, where he encounters the dying Mr. White (Jesper Christensen, reprising his role from Casino Royale and Quantum of Solace) and his daughter Madeleine Swann (Léa Seydoux), a physician who becomes both Bond's ally and romantic interest. Along the way, there are moments of genuine excitement: a car chase through Rome's nocturnal streets, and a brutal fight aboard a train that will evoke fond memories of From Russia with Love and The Spy Who Loved Me for long-time fans.

Yet these highlights are vastly outnumbered by sequences that appear to belong to a film suffering from budgetary constraints or, worse, a shortage of screenwriting inspiration. A disconcerting portion of the action unfolds in derelict, neglected or abandoned structures—ruined buildings that seem to visually articulate what Mendes perhaps dare not state explicitly: that Bond himself has become a relic of a bygone era. Instead, the screenplay—credited to the customary committee of John Logan, Neil Purvis, Robert Wade and Jez Butterworth—opts for a tired commentary on the surveillance state, suggesting that modern espionage has been reduced to data collection and drone strikes. The villains no longer require elaborate doomsday devices; merely hijacking the security infrastructure that states themselves have constructed under the guise of counter-terrorism will suffice.

This contemporary angle might have proven compelling had it not been undermined by one of the most ill-conceived narrative twists in the franchise's history. The "revelation" of Blofeld's identity—spoiled utterly by the film's marketing campaign and Christoph Waltz's prominent billing—lands with all the impact of a damp squib. Worse still is the decision to render Bond's relationship with his arch-nemesis "personal," a contrivance that feels cheap and unearned. The screenplay's deficiencies extend to its treatment of Madeleine Swann, whom Seydoux portrays with considerable presence but with whom Craig shares not a spark of chemistry. Her character is further sabotaged by clunky dialogue and increasingly desperate narrative choices. Monica Bellucci, meanwhile, appears visibly disinterested in her brief appearance as a grieving widow; her casting served primarily to break the record for the oldest Bond romantic interest, a gimmick that does neither actress nor film any favours.

The sole performer to emerge with credit is Dave Bautista as Mr. Hinx, SPECTRE's chief assassin. The former MMA fighter, who utters not a word throughout the film, proves a physically imposing and genuinely threatening adversary—perhaps the most worthy opponent Bond has faced since Jaws in the 1970s. His presence recalls the franchise at its most inventive, a reminder of what Spectre might have been.

Indeed, the film's most effective moments are those that explicitly or implicitly evoke the series' storied past. Bond's interrogation in Blofeld's lair deliberately recalls the laser sequence from Goldfinger, and there is undeniable pleasure in these nostalgic callbacks. Yet nostalgia cannot sustain a narrative that runs nearly two and a half hours, particularly when the climactic confrontation—a nocturnal chase through London's streets—proves a complete disappointment, bearing unfortunate similarities to the finale of the most recent Mission: Impossible instalment.

Daniel Craig, so compelling in Casino Royale as a raw, vulnerable operative redefining the character for the twenty-first century, appears here tired and unenthusiastic. The "dramatic" demands placed upon him by the screenplay—particularly the forced personal connection to Blofeld—sit uneasily with his established interpretation of the character. The film's coda, suggesting a possible conclusion to this chapter of Bond's history, feels less like a satisfying resolution than a tacit admission that the creative team have exhausted their current trajectory.

Spectre arrives with a reported budget between $250 and $350 million, making it the most expensive Bond film ever produced. That expenditure is evident in the Mexico City opener and certain set pieces, yet the overall impression is of a franchise uncertain of its direction—caught between the grim realism of the Craig era and the retro appeal of classic Bond, succeeding at neither. Where Casino Royale (2006) represented a bold reinvention and Skyfall (2012) a respectable if overrated deconstruction, Spectre offers only diminishing returns.

Should this prove to be Craig's final outing as 007, it would constitute a decidedly underwhelming conclusion to what remains, on balance, the most interesting period in the character's cinematic history. Yet perhaps that disappointment is itself reason for optimism: if Spectre demonstrates anything, it is that the series has painted itself into a corner from which only another radical reinvention can rescue it. Bond will return, as the credits promise; one hopes he brings with him a renewed sense of purpose.

RATING: 5/10 (++)

(Note: The text in the original Croatian version is available here.)

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