NO TIME TO DIE Countdown: CASINO ROYALE Revisited

In the No Time To Die Countdown, Jake Tropila takes a look back at every Bond film – official and unofficial – in anticipation of the release of the latest entry.

Every so often, a Bond film will overindulge to such a point where the next film undergoes a much-needed course correction. Consider You Only Live Twice. While undeniably a robust blockbuster, with grandiose set designs, epic confrontations, and Bond at the top of his global fame, it was a far cry from the early days of Dr. No. The next film, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, introduced a new Bond and pared the elements down back to their natural roots.

Then there was Moonraker, the film that literally launched Bond into outer space as shameless attempt to capitalize on the success of Star Wars. That film dominated the worldwide box office, no doubt, but it’s hardly a surprise that the next feature was the much more grounded and serious-minded For Your Eyes Only.

Die Another Day was the most recent occurrence of Bond reveling in excess. The film reached stratospheric heights of financial success at the cost of nearly everything James Bond valiantly stood for. With Brosnan leaving the role for good, a full makeover for the series was not just crucial, but essential. And with the rights for Ian Fleming’s first novel restored to MGM, the producers at EON Productions opted to reboot Bond back to square one. The result, dear readers, was Casino Royale.

When I first began this column, some eighteen months and twenty-two entries ago, it was meant to be both a celebration of all things Bond and a look at the films’ trajectories leading up to the release of No Time To Die. During this time, with all of the revisits I’ve undertaken and the thousands upon thousands of words I’ve dedicated to the series I hold very near and dear to my heart, I have undergone some serious contemplation and self-reflection as to where I stand within various parameters of this franchise.

Many considerations have been made, and I have always had strong feelings leaning in this direction, but if there’s one thing I now recognize as an absolute truth, it’s this: Casino Royale is the greatest Bond film ever made. Like the Vesper Martini it invents, the film is a rich, flavorful, and perfectly measured concoction that brings together every single right ingredient into a work of greatness. A sharp script, lush direction, impeccable action, a memorably creepy Bond Villain, a bold and brilliant Bond Girl, and the arrival of Daniel Craig, fully assured and at his career-best. Folks, they do not come better than this.

As Bond says to Vesper: Once you’ve tasted it, it’s all you will ever want to watch. There is too much to get into, and not enough time to do it. Hop in my newly acquired Aston Martin DB5 I won at a low-stakes poker game, friends. The year is 2006. Time to see our man earn his stripes.

You Know Thy Name

The pre-title sequence is sensational. The canted angles, the expressionistic perspectives, the intercutting between past and present, the black-and-white photography — all are masterfully calibrated, and the formal shakeup is genuinely invigorating to behold. Smaller details shine, too: I love how Dryden’s elevator only takes him only up to the sixth floor. Like Bond, we’re not quite at seven.

The interrogation in Dryden’s office is as cool as they come. The brawl in the bathroom is gritty and bruising. Craig commands himself exceptionally well between the two events, immediately announcing himself as a different Bond from his predecessors. The world certainly takes notice. After seeing the two foes dispatched, a 00 agent is born. I cannot wait to see where he takes us. Oh, and incorporating the gun barrel sequence into the actual narrative? Magnificent.

I’m not quite sure where the fan consensus lands on Chris Cornell’s “You Know My Name.” All I know is that I think it’s great — a smashing yet soulful rock ballad and a suitable fit for Craig. The lyrics highlight the legend behind the film: we may be making our introduction with Bond, but he’s still very much ingrained in our past. I also really dig the digitally-rendered playground of casino iconography; the use of playing card suits as ammunition is a neat touch.

The parkour chase is the zenith of action setpieces in the Bond franchise. Hell, I’d go so far to include all of action cinema from the last three decades. The sequence escalates beautifully, progressing wordlessly from jungle to construction site to embassy, pitting the nimble dexterity of Sebastien Foucan’s bombmaker Mollaka against the rugged implacability of Craig’s wet-behind-the-ears Bond. One moment stands out as a series highlight: at the peak of the crane, Mollaka throws his empty pistol at Bond after dry firing it. Without even flinching, Bond catches it and immediately throws it back at him. Hell. Yes.

In case you weren’t around during (or maybe you’ve just forgotten) the pre-production days of Casino Royale, there was quite a bit of uproar with a blonde actor being cast as the next 007, bucking the trend of the previous five leads. Being a fair-haired individual myself, I never bought into this criticism, and greatly appreciated the change. If anyone still had their doubts about Craig’s casting walking into Casino Royale, I’m positive they were quelled at the conclusion of the parkour chase.

Bond has always been a characteristically superhuman figure, but it’s the sheer determination behind Craig’s baby blues that paint him a force to be reckoned with. Part of what makes the parkour chase so memorable is the contrast between Mollaka and Bond’s skills. Mollaka will lift himself up and dive feet-first through a small gap in a wall; Bond will bulldoze his entire body through it. The entire chase is truly a marvel of spectacle and a spectacular feat of filmmaking — very rare does a sequence in the franchise feel so transcendent (I do feel bad for the damage done to the construction workers’ site – Bond looks to have set them back several weeks. Ditto to the inconvenienced travelers who have their luggage destroyed on the tarmac during the plane sequence).

Turns out, killing Mollaka at the embassy was good for the mission, but bad for business. Retaining Dench as M was a smart move – the transition to Craig is made all the smoother, and nobody can seethe quite like she can (“In the old days if an agent did something that embarrassing he’d have a good sense to defect. Christ, I miss the Cold War!”). Since this Bond is a complete return to roots, many classic elements have been eschewed. There’s no Moneypenny, no Q, no outlandish gadgets. All the traditional elements have been cast aside to complement a tighter origin story.

And yet, one of the most rewarding arcs of the Craig era is his relationship with M. Their superior/subordinate connection isn’t necessarily one built on mutual affection (Bond seems to piss M off in this film more than any previous one, but we all know it’s done with love), but there is definitely a tacit understanding between the two, even if surface levels seem icy. For instance, when Bond breaks into M’s house just to use a computer (him nearly revealing her actual name is never not hilarious), she threatens his life if he does so again. He promptly leaves her home, but deliberately left her computer open to his location. She could stop him, but even she wants him to fulfill the mission. The Brosnan years teased a larger role for M, but Casino Royale recognized her value and brought her to the forefront of Bond’s background. Not bad for a character who was largely relegated to sitting behind a desk.

Let’s meet Le Chiffre. A calmly menacing math genius whose handsome features are marred by a cloudy left eye that occasionally weeps blood (“a derangement of the tear duct…nothing sinister”), Le Chiffre is a grade-A villain. Urbane but with a real sick and twisted side, Le Chiffre has the benefit of being portrayed by Mads Mikkelsen, a remarkable actor in his own right and one who looks preternaturally evil (though, in another universe, he’d make a fair Bond). Next to Silva in Skyfall, I’d firmly place Le Chiffre at the top of Craig’s rogues’ gallery.

It might take a few viewings to discern the entire machinations behind Le Chiffre’s plot, but I can confidently say I have a firm grasp on what’s going on: utilizing funds provided by Ugandan warlord Obanno (Isaach de Bankolé), Le Chiffre plans to short sell over $100 million worth of stock on Skyfleet, a company debuting a new luxury airliner that same week. In order to guarantee a successful return of investment for all parties involved, he’s coordinating a terrorist attack on the airline with criminal contractor Dimitrios (Simon Abkarian), who has hired Mollaka to blow up the plane, which would in turn force the stock to plummet and allow Le Chiffre to make a fortune. This entire operation is overseen by the elusive Mr. White (Jesper Christensen), who may or may not have secret motives of his own.

Seems simple enough, when all’s said and done. Unfortunately for Le Chiffre et al, Bond’s premature killing of Mollaka has put a damper on the proceedings and placed Bond hot on their trail, forcing them to hire a new terrorist under some serious time constraints and evade the 00 agent’s pursuit. To the Bahamas we go!

In rapid succession, we’re treated to several signature Bond moments that Craig pulls off with panache. Crashing the German tourist’s car in the valet lot makes for a humorous diversion (the key-toss is executed with the right amount of abandon). Bond beating Dimitrios for his Aston Martin DB5 at the poker table is immensely gratifying (love the addition of “and the valet ticket” being thrown in there, just to twist the knife further). Even better is Bond picking up Dimitrios’ wife Solange (Caterina Murino), and offering to take her back to his place in his, before speedily driving around roundabout to arrive at the front of the same hotel. Casino Royale handles charm and humor better than most.

Despite the enticing offer, Bond’s dalliance with Solange does not last long, with agent forgoing sex for the mission to head Dimitrios off at Miami International Airport. Bond kills Dimitrios at a Body Works exhibit (their silent struggle for the knife amongst a crowd of people is fantastic; following the pun-heavy Die Another Day, it’s refreshing to see so much of the action play out here without a word being uttered) and pursues a new terrorist, disguised as a cop, onto the airport runaway.

The tarmac battle marks the next big action setpiece. While not as visceral as the parkour chase, this one is still thrilling in its own right. Much of the credit must be given to director Martin Campbell. Having previously helmed GoldenEye, Campbell has resurrected Bond twice with astonishing results, and Casino Royale is his magnum opus as a filmmaker. The tarmac is tense and expertly staged, and I can’t think of a more rewarding ending than seeing the terrorist discover in horror that his own explosive device was now clipped to the back of his belt loop by Bond. And, oh boy, the smile Bond makes after seeing the terrorist blow himself to smithereens? Icing on the cake.

There Are Dinner Jackets and Dinner Jackets; This is The Latter

Having lost all the money owed to incredibly dangerous people, Le Chiffre hastily organizes a high-stakes poker tournament at the Casino Royale in Montenegro to scrounge up the earnings. With Bond being MI6’s most skilled player, he’s enlisted by M to play the tournament and win. In Fleming’s novel, the game in question was baccarat. Here, it has shifted to no-limit Texas hold ’em.

If you’ll recall the era of the mid-2000’s, the change is understandable — the World Series of Poker was at the height of its zeitgeist powers, and Texas hold ’em was definitely a wiser choice for reaching a broader audience (Fleming’s novel actually opens with a two-page explanation on how baccarat works – such explanations aren’t strictly necessary here, but we do get Mathis offering recaps to Vesper). To ensure he has full funds available, Bond is to be personally staked by Her Majesty’s Treasury department. This calls for the assistance of one Vesper Lynd.

No use dancing around it: Vesper is the best Bond Girl there is. Smart, stunning, outwardly formidable while also quietly delicate, she is very much Bond’s equal. You could make a case for their first encounter on the train as being the series’ best. For a film that can carry itself so assuredly without words being exchanged, the dialogue in Casino Royale is especially striking. Bond and Vesper’s witty repartee over each other’s pasts is superlative (“How was the lamb?” “Skewered. One sympathizes.”). And the ever-arresting Eva Green more than capably volleys every barb Craig launches at her, and happily reciprocates in return. It’s telling Craig could never find a love interest as suitable as Vesper; her shadow looms largely over subsequent entries.

If there’s any analog for Casino Royale, it’s On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (though the extended action sequences do recall the ski chase in For Your Eyes Only). That film was very much a love story as this one; Blofeld and poker (respectively) felt second nature to the romance that blossoms between Bond and Bond Girl. Tracy felt very much a vital part of Bond’s life then as Vesper does now. Their spiritual connection is underscored by the cruel hand of fate that encompasses both: Bond ends up alone. In this occupation, you cannot stay attached for too long.

Building the central conflict of Casino Royale around a single poker tournament is nothing short of outstanding. What once felt propulsive and journeyed across multiple continents is now locked down to a single setting. Foot chases have given away to intense stairs and minute gestures. And yet, every card dealt and every chip tossed into the pot feels no less riveting than everything that’s come before it. Casino Royale doesn’t just make Texas hold ’em engrossing to watch, it makes it feel seismic.

That’s not to say the central section is all poker. We get plenty more great interludes: Bond invents the Vesper Martini (the reaction of the other players hearing it and also wanting one is priceless). Rene Mathis (Giancarlo Giannini) provides some valuable ally time with Bond and Vesper (Giannini’s got a great, relaxed Kerim Bey vibe about himself). And we get to meet Felix Leiter! Geoffrey Wright joins the series as Felix #7, and he immediately asserts himself as one of the better Leiter’s. Much like the relationship between Craig’s Bond and M, his friendship with Wright’s Felix is the strongest as well (plus, Wright marks our first threepeat – Felix has been promised to play a role in No Time To Die).

The stairwell fight offers Craig another chance to demonstrate his sizable brawn amidst all the poker playing action (and succinctly wraps up the Obanno subplot to boot), But, more critically, it leads into the shower scene. It’s an unprecedented moment of tenderness, packed with a potent reminder that violence has consequences. Bond has killed and killed recklessly before; here he sees the firsthand effects of his job on a civilian. There’s also something about Bond quietly nursing his own wounds, shirtless and downing glasses of scotch in the bathroom.

Few other Bonds seem to question their own mortality, which is why the poisoning of Bond also works extremely well. Sweaty and frazzled, downing glasses of saltwater and stumbling through the streets, Bond is actually clinically dead and Le Chiffre temporarily successful, despite the best efforts of MI6 working remotely. Thank goodness Vesper showed up and diagnosed the problem.

Any naysayers of Casino Royale wield their cudgels against the poker playing, with special attention paid to Bond’s ultimate winning hand. As an avid player myself, I feel duty obligated to weigh in. Personally, I’m more than okay with what we see. There’s a vast difference between “real poker” and “movie poker,” and frankly, venturing down the path of the former would have been a suicide pass. I’m fine with Le Chiffre having an obviously visible tell. I’m fine with the final round evolving into an escalation of stronger shows of hand. And I’m fine with Bond winning with the ultra-rare straight flush (which, mind you, he secures on the turn, not the river). Suspension of disbelief can always be an acceptable course of action.

As expected, Le Chiffre does not take too kindly to losing. Bond and Vesper are kidnapped, and the former is stripped down and brutally tortured by a nasty looking knotted rope. The entire torture scene could also be argued as another contender for series’ best. Bond’s resilience against clashing against Le Chiffre’s desperations perfectly sums up both men. What’s most startling about the entire ordeal is that Bond starts joking with his captor. Winces are now exchanged with laughs in equal measure. “Now the whole world’s going to know you died scratching my balls” – nobody but Craig could deliver that line so well.

Previous instances of Bond being tortured end one of two ways: Bond talks his way out it, or, more commonly, he gadgets his way out of it. Casino Royale gives us neither. Bond is so steadfast to die for the mission than compromise the bank account – he’s even moments away from losing his own genitalia, had Mr. White not showed up and summarily executed Le Chiffre. And that’s the end of that. Chalk that up to one of the benefits of rebooting the character: you get to rewrite the rules.

Casino Royale is one of the more faithful adaptations of Fleming’s source material, with the entire poker tournament playing out beat for beat as it does in the novel. But that only can cover so much screentime — the entire first hour and final twenty minutes are wholly original inventions. That’s all well when they’re as enjoyable to watch as the love between Bond and Vesper. It even rains! A first for Bond (but certainly not the last). Every time I revisit this film, I can’t help but root for these two to succeed. Alas, life has other plans.

Venice offers a nice closing setpiece, though I will admit there is a tired sense of “Here we go again!” as Bond discovers Vesper has made off with the money and the action ramps up to the climax. While navigating a sinking building, Bond makes quick work of Gettler and his men, but the unthinkable happens: he loses Vesper. No other Bond film, nay, blockbuster, dares to have an ending as tragic as this one. A sly Mr. White makes off with the money, and Bond’s final words to M coldly echo the ones from Fleming’s novel: “The job’s done. The bitch is dead.” Heartbreaking.

Conclusion: Casino Royale

The final moments of Casino Royale clinch its legendary status. Mr. White is tracked down and, following a cryptic phone call, takes a bullet to the leg. The caller emerges and reveals himself with one of the finest line readings in the series: “The name’s Bond. James Bond.” Cue David Arnold’s cover of the great Monty Norman theme as we cut to black. Casino Royale successfully revitalized the Bond franchise and surpassed every outing that came before it, while simultaneously raising the bar for every entry to come after it. Every single element crystallizes into some stupendously dazzling; it really is quite miraculous that this film even exists. A certified classic.

Coming up next: with a debut as strong as this one, what could Bond possibly have in store for us next? The No Time To Die Countdown will return with Quantum of Solace.

Is Casino Royale the greatest James Bond movie there is? Let us know your thoughts in the comments below.

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