neveridle

[neveridle]

How ‘The Last Jedi’ Took Me From Devastation To Appreciation

After nearly 72 hours of exhaustive mental exploration and undulation between emotional extremes, I’ve come to a conclusion that brings me, as Rey puts it “peace and purpose.” For nearly 4 days now I’ve continued to find layer after layer to this film and the process of digging into the implications of the film is almost as enjoyable as the actual viewing experience. But first let me start with my feelings immediately following my first viewing.

Devastation. That’s truly the only word I could think of that would aptly describe how I felt walking out of the theater on Friday morning at 1:40 AM. I was in utter shock and as I processed the answers (or lack thereof) that I’d been given to mysteries that had built in importance over the last 2 years, I became so morose that I very literally cried myself to sleep, hugging my pillow like an 8 year old who just had his favorite toy stolen. I felt betrayed by a film that had been so visually and emotionally spectacular up until it ended without giving me the answers I didn’t realize I craved going in. I was one of the few who felt relatively ambivalent to The Force Awakens, owing to the fact that it just didn’t feel like Star Wars to me for some reason, despite its recycling of basic plot points. Thus, the apparent betrayal of The Last Jedi was all the more acute because not only did it have to succeed in its own right, but it also had to make up for and retroactively dispel my lack of passion for its predecessor. It’s important to note these things because without knowing it, I engineered the framework of my own disappointment, much like Anakin engineered the circumstances of his own tragedy.  

As a die-hard fan of Star Wars, my first and most fervent fandom, I had come to expect certain things from the galaxy far far away; things that had been instilled in me by the plethora of media that has helped to make it a fully realized galaxy. And like many fans, the franchise occupies such a monumentally important place in my heart that anything that threatens the status quo is met with staunch resistance. J.J. Abrams’ attempt at charting the world 30 years after a story that had already concluded satisfactorily was inoffensive enough, sticking to familiar beats, visual cues and setups. He built something that piqued my interest but didn’t upend the norm.

Enter Rian Johnson; a creative force who had the insight to recognize that the franchise had grown stale, retreading tired tropes. A vanguard who had the courage to strip away the elements that had come to misrepresent Star Wars over the years. Simply put, he had the audacity to suggest that this thing that Star Wars has morphed into over the years isn’t truly what the series is about and that somewhere along we forgot about the true message of the original. And you know what? As a lifelong, die-hard, replica lightsaber-toting fan of this series who cried himself to sleep after watching this latest installment, I’m now unashamed to admit he was right.

The Last Jedi is not an easy movie. It doesn’t cater to you and it doesn’t serve you on a silver platter. It challenges your expectations, it changes your perceptions, it implores you to reconsider and reexamine what Star Wars really means to you. And it’s within that reexamination that I fully appreciate The Last Jedi for pushing me somewhere uncomfortable and waiting patiently while I found my way home. In the 72 hours following the film I’ve engaged in hours of discussion with friends, read nearly hundreds of articles, craving different viewpoints, feelings and reactions. Following my first viewing of The Force Awakens, I discussed the basic questions with friends (Who is Rey? Who is Snoke? Will Kylo be redeemed? etc.) but nothing even remotely close to the feverish, almost desperate intensity of our discussion and debate following this latest installment. That The Last Jedi galvanizes fans into this kind of fervent, explosive repartee is a resounding victory, but that’s only one of the elements of its success.

For me, and I’m sure many other fans, the primary success of this movie is in pushing, not forcing, our relationship with this series to evolve. As I mentioned above, The Last Jedi challenges you but not in a way that’s insulting or antagonistic. If you’re like me and went in with fan theories and ideas about how the plot would go you would naturally feel disappointment or shock at the lack of information and the way Rian Johnson seemingly took a sledgehammer to the very foundation of what makes a Star Wars movie. But in reality, if you strip away those presuppositions, The Last Jedi is perhaps the most pure Star Wars movie since the original film, a collection of moments replete with all the heart, humor, and excitement of the best installments in the saga. More importantly though, it returns the series to the initial premise that inspired a galaxy of fans: anyone can rise to greatness, even and especially a lowly farmhand or an abandoned scavenger. See, when you strip away all the regalia that Star Wars has donned over the years, there is a singular realization that we all fell in love with that original film not because it furthered a “royal” lineage or contained a monumental reveal. These were things that came later in the series and helped expand the narrative but its roots they were not. It’s nigh impossible now to separate the long-winding narrative of the series into the isolated containers of its standalone films but if you do, you realize that we loved Star Wars long before we knew why the name Skywalker was important, or whose father was who, or how the big bad rose to power. We loved it simply because it inspired us to forge our own destiny, waiting out there past the binary sunset.

Recontextualized in this way, it’s clear to me now that Rian Johnson took a sledgehammer not to the elemental components of Star Wars, but to the various chains that had bound it in place over the years. He pushes you out of your comfort zone but also brings things back to their roots. He challenges everything you think you know in order to reinvigorate the series’ true identity. The more I read Johnson’s various quotes discussing his thought process behind some of the major plot points of the film, the more I find myself muttering in awe, “he’s smarter than me. He’s so much smarter.” In the same way that the endlessly wise Jedi Master Yoda challenged Luke and countered all of his objections long ago on Dagobah, Johnson consistently counters all of my misgivings and doubt. And even if enormous, galaxy shattering twists are what you were craving, in a sense the most unexpected thing that could have possible happened is that all of the expected things were tossed out, ultimately unnecessary in a film that’s more interested in developing its characters than it is in creating false climaxes. The wait for Episode 8 was tough, but the wait for Episode 9 seems unbearable now and it’s because Rian Johnson and co. have moved the chess pieces and set the stage for a climax that will be impossible to predict.

When I first walked out of The Last Jedi, my main thought was that Star Wars no longer excited me. 72 hours removed from it, with my obstinate preconceptions jettisoned from my mind like an escape pod from a Rebel Cruiser, my feeling is quite the opposite: Star Wars has never been MORE exciting.

[neveridle]

Regarding: Embarrassment

In my experience, embarrassment and self-consciousness have frequently gone hand in hand and I’ve spent a great deal of my life playing victim to both sentiments. I’ve been called out for coming up with a stupid idea, languished in the uncomfortable silence following a joke that fell flat, and experienced the mortification that comes along with having old photographs that should never again see the light of day be projected onto a wall in front of a room of approximately 40 of my peers; suffice to say I’ve seen it all, so to speak.

However, none of these instances bothered me at the time, and similar instances don’t bother me going forward because I learned early on that embarrassment is a weapon, a gun if you will, the ammunition for which comes directly from a person’s inability to roll with the punches. What I mean to say, in a much less tacky way I might add, is that embarrassment is always a choice, and the degree to which an embarrassing incident affects you is entirely up to you. I’ve found that the best way to deal with embarrassment is to embrace it, head-on and in full force. To distill it down to one incredibly simple platitude: own it and it cannot be used against you.

To most people, things like pride, fear, and/or a desire for social acceptance often get in the way of such an unabashed celebration of one’s lesser moments. But if you are able to break through those walls and embrace everything that would undo you, you supercede everything and everyone. You enter a level of emotional control that immediately puts you above everyone else in the room. People will soon realize that nothing gets to you. That you are better than anything and everything that is thrown at you. And though they may not explicitly say it, and they might not even consciously think it, you can bet your ass they understand it on a primal level. That you are a different, unique breed of human being capable of accepting and even celebrating your flaws. And that is the sort of unspoken understanding from which deep respect is born.

[neveridle]

Regarding: Future-Induced Anxiety

Having just graduated or being near graduation from college, there is an insane amount of pressure to have everything figured out immediately and to make all the “right choices.” The nice thing is that there are no right choices. I guess that can be further cause for anxiety but I prefer to look at it as a source of comfort in the sense that at this point you really can’t do anything wrong. If you do something and it’s not the right fit or you didn’t like it, that doesn’t equate to failure. It’s fantastic because you’re one step closer to figuring out what you actually want to do/be. I think we all have it backwards in thinking we’re supposed to know exactly what we want now so we can pick the right thing immediately, when in reality we should be trying as many “wrong” things as we can so that weeding out the wrong things will help us get to the right thing by process of elimination. Most of us are in such a unique, lucky position to try out as many different paths as we want because we have amazing friends and family to support us unconditionally and incredible opportunities to fail forward until we find our calling. Figuring out what you want to do in life can quickly devolve into depression-inducing stress (I speak from experience), but it shouldn’t be that way. It should be a fun kind of stress, like playing a game with friends where you really want to win but it’s okay if you lose because you can laugh it off, reset the pieces and play again until you win. This is not a new sentiment by any means but one that I think is particularly relevant to a lot of people I’m close to, myself included, that are struggling with future-induced anxiety in this near-grad/post-grad time period. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to get off my high horse.

[neveridle]

Regarding: Motivation

It’s a sad world we live in. But the one thing you have to remember is that no matter how much your life may seem f*#cked, you’re still right in the middle. There’s a load of people who’s lives are better than yours. But there’s also people who’s lives are infinitely worse. In this world, “best” and “worst” don’t exist. Only “better”, or “worse”. To some, this notion of permanent middling can be oppressive; in reality, its liberating. Understanding that there is always something higher to work for and always something lower to fall to is the best way I know of escaping the trap of stagnancy. You'll never be the best and you'll never be the worst, but the excitement of moving forward and the fear of falling backward is all the motivation you need to evolve.

[neveridle]

Regarding: Writer's Block

A series of opening lines that are so good, I can't think of a story to go along with them:

The sun bleeds in tandem with the blooming of the flowers, igniting fields of gold and green...

The night was as black as the ink from her Pilot G2, retractable gel pen. The leafy tendrils of the outside foliage slid eerily across the windows while the skeletal hands of tree branches scratched quiet lines into the glass...

He picked up the stick; it was warm in his hands. Was it warmth? Or just his mind, exhausted by pain and excruciating dullness, playing juvenile pranks...

It had been a cloudy day. The sky wasn’t quite sad enough to cry and yet the gloom was palpable. The sun peeked out from behind that veil, trying to muscle its way into the club...

[neveridle]

Regarding: Self-Indulgence

It’s actually a little disturbing the degree to which individuals have become increasingly individualistic. Sorry that was widely ambiguous. What I mean to say is this: the art of good conversation seems to be lost, replaced instead by a series of one-off utterances, only vaguely connected to the original topic insofar as it allows each person to convey their own thoughts which, by default, are far more important than actually responding to or showing an interest in other people’s thoughts.

You might be wondering how I can possibly, in good conscious, be lamenting a focused individual narrative given that my aspirations are admittedly narcissistic. Well first of all, this is a blog. Almost by definition, it exists so that I can share thoughts that may be unfit for actual conversation owing to their self-indulgence. Second, I’m not actually the arrogant bastard many people take me to be, as a good deal of what I post is written with humorous or ironic intent which may be lost on less astute readers. As a quick intellectual benchmark, if you know what the word “astute” means you’re probably well-equipped enough to continue reading…

But I digress! The point I was making is that if you actually pay attention to the conversations around you, be it with friends, family, co-workers, clandestine lovers or what have you, you’ll notice that people nowadays tend to cram as much of their own lives as they can into a single breath whilst not really paying attention to the responses of others. Don’t believe me? The next time you are out with friends or family or just generally in the company of people, stop talking and simply listen. Count how many times each person says “me,” “I,” or “my,” and I guarantee the resultant sum will be disturbingly large. You see conversation was meant to be an exchange of ideas but somewhere along the line we forgot that in favor of gross self-indulgence. The next time you feel like disseminating more personal facts, challenge yourself to instead ask a question about a previous statement, or inquire further into someone else’s life or line of thinking.

In other words, don’t be a selfish d*ck.

[neveridle]

Regarding: Ghosts

How does one defeat a ghost? Speaking theoretically, of course. For this question, there are a thousand different answers. The Christian will tell you to undergo an exorcism in the name of Jesus, the Scientologist will tell you to perform complex hand motions in order to remove the body thetan, and a child will tell you to keep the closet door firmly shut. However, these are not the methods I refer to when I ask the question: How does one defeat a ghost? To wrap our hungry hands around an answer, it is necessary to fall back into repressed memories of childhood, of cookie dough and cake batter, of jack-o-lanterns and witches’ warts. A child sees the world in a subdued reality and as such, a simple, benign, sheet becomes the silky pallor of ghostly essence. Peering through the visor of this newfound discovery, the question then becomes: How does one defeat a sheet? Now it seems there exist a variety of solutions. However, I find that they all boil down to three tried and true methods.

The first being the almighty, steel jaws of, yes children you guessed it, scissors. That dark device that was always out of our youthful reach, always calling our name, taunting us, promising us the thrill of an empowered sprint…and an extra scolding. Nevertheless, cutting a sheet with scissors is as easy as removing them from their humble abode, temporarily removing them from the company of the other, less important, residents of the drawer neighborhood. Cutting a sheet, however, leaves one with the same sheet, albeit in many pieces; an imperfect method. Thus we move to the second way in which a sheet, and by analogous extension, a ghost is defeated: fire.  Ah, the arsonists delight. After all, what would the arsonist be without his fire? A bitter old coot with a fiery personality; A hot temper perhaps? God aren’t puns wonderful? But I digress. Using fire may not be the safest option leading us to the third and final method: just throw it away. A sheet (ghost) can really only bother you if you let it. Allow it to tangle you, to strangle you and you’ll never be free of its presence. And yes, you guessed it; this whole ramble is just me making a larger, metaphoric point about the danger of letting your past haunt you. At a certain point you have to come to the realization that the longer you hold onto the anger, resentment, disappointment, tragedy, betrayal or whatever it is that is suffocating you, the longer it owns you. At a certain point you just have to throw out the sheet and buy a new one. At a certain point you have to accept that everyone has their ghosts that haunt them, but like we were taught as children, it’s possible to defeat them.

[neveridle]

Regarding: Love

It's a timeless cliche, the idea of true love and love at first sight. It's an ideology typically reserved for children's stories or a doctrine routinely used to sell magazines. It's something that we hope will happen but deep down, beneath layers of viscous denial, we know know won't actually happen. Until it does.

He spent a lot of his time trying to be alone. Not so much because he wanted to get away from the world but because he thought it would help him find a way into it. You see, he held the world at arms length out of some misplaced sense of contrived machismo because society and past experience taught him that apathy was the best policy. To not care was to be cool and girls like cool right? Other men respect cool right? You can't get hurt, be betrayed, or feel loss If you're cool right? The Fonz might say yes but the real answer is no. Fiction showed him example after example of men who glamorously brood their way into the waiting hearts of women and the high esteem of men. This is what he attempted and this is what kept him drowning. This is how he navigated the world and this is how he functioned but then it all changed. Then he met her.

She hit him like a tidal wave, washing away every grain of carefully assembled apathy and faux aloofness. She emptied him of all thoughts and for a moment he didn't exist. She burned away all of the rot and decay strangling his heart and lit a fire in his core. It ebbed and smoldered behind his ribcage and he saw colors he'd never seen before. He felt simultaneously stronger and weaker, elated and disconsolate. She was a single flame smoldering in a dark room. She was an impossibility, an anomaly, and yet there she stood. She was the kind of ethereal beauty that people killed each other for hundreds of years ago. She was the kind of perfection that made him believe in God because no other explanation of her existence made sense.

They talked, they laughed, and they fell in love. She taught him that indifference was not the best policy. She showed him that it wasn't cool to not care, because apathy is a tasteless poison that claws its way into your mind and burdens your heart until you are but a shell; an empty carapace without purpose. When she was around the world seemed brighter, warmer, more colorful. Her honey-colored eyes were a golden gateway to a world where he could climb mountains and swim across oceans. She was the rock that kept him grounded but also the wings that let him soar. In her heart he found truth and in that truth he found purpose. He realized that there is nothing else in life but love; love guides us, love binds us, and love gives us meaning. Love is coloring outside the lines. Love is kissing her when she has a cold. Love is seeing perfection where she only sees flaws. Most of all, love is defying the odds. Because in a world filled with lies, love is the only truth, and in a universe filled with darkness, love is the only light. 

[neveridle]

Regarding: Religious Texts

A brief list of various religions and their source text:

Christianity - The Bible

Islam - The Quran

Judaism - The Torah (Tanakh)

Mormonism - The Book of Mormon

Hinduism - Vedas

Scientology - Star Wars: The Novelization

Westboro Baptist Church - American Psycho

[neveridle]

Regarding: Summer

Summer is usually a time of carefree frolicking and good-spirited debauchery; warm breezes carrying the sweet scents of grilled Oscar Mayer and incurable body oder, children laughing in the yard or splashing away in pools and at beaches. Alas, my past few summers have been filled with a seething cocktail of a painfully unpleasant breakup, massive anxiety, panic attacks, and a wonderful knee dislocation, so after much consideration I’ve decided on a few things:

1) I no longer acknowledge Summer as a season. We're experimenting with a trial separation and I think it will be the best for both of us. In other words, it's not me, it's Summer. 

2) I’m not a fan of Spring either so while I'm at it, let’s kill two birds with one post here and agree on a new seasonal structure. The year will be henceforth composed of Fall*, Winter, and Extended Allergy Season.

Here's looking forward to some colder weather.

*(Feel free to call it Autumn if you want to be a pedantic prick)

[neveridle]

Regarding: Societal Sensitivity

Technology is not inherently good or bad. Rather, It’s moral coloring is determined by how we as human beings, and as a society, use it. Unfortunately, we’re talking about the same society that built the atom bomb so I would say concern over how we use our technology is not entirely unwarranted. 

I know you’ve heard the “is technology good or bad” debate 1000 times before so you’re probably wondering what I’m really getting at. It’s alternatively possible that you’re not wondering that at all and are really wondering how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop or something else of equal importance, in which case, why are you reading my notoriously long-winded blog posts? You have to know what you’re getting into by now…

What I’m getting at is that advances in technology and the advent of digital media (Twitter, Facebook, Instagram etc.) has given us an outlet, a channel if you will, for voices to be heard that were previously silent. For the most part this is great; for example new musicians are being discovered from YouTube where they previously would have gone unnoticed (I’m realizing as I type that this is the exact way in which Justin Bieber and his subsequent douchebaggery was brought into the national eye). The problem (besides Bieber fever) is that society as a whole (including every self-assuming, Clearasil-using 15 year old with an iPhone) has a direct line to any celebrity, company, or brand via Twitter or Facebook. Thus people feel validated and important enough to share their opinions on each and every little thing that enters the internet which leads to my main thesis: the ability to communicate openly with everyone at all times has resulted in people sharing each and every complaint and grievance they have with any and all things to the point where we all just look like a bunch of hypersensitive pricks at this point.

The thought has occurred to me before but reached a head when I saw a Yahoo article claiming that people were “outraged” over a poster released by Paramount Australia for the upcoming Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles film. The poster (pictured above) features the turtles jumping from what looks to be an exploding building. The “outrage” comes from the Australian release date of the film, which happens to be on September 11th. Seriously? It’s 4 turtles and a single exploding building (not unlike any of the thousands of buildings that have exploded in countless action movies). I’m not undermining the gravity of September 11th at all as it is one of the most tragic events in the history of mankind. What I’m asking is are we so hypersensitive to every little thing nowadays that this deserves outrage? It’s  not even an American poster. The mistake was quickly rectified by Paramount but the fact that outrage is being directed towards an unfortunate combination of images and dates is frustrating. Are movies simply no longer allowed to feature exploding buildings? Why aren’t these people upset about films featuring violence on planes (Non-Stop anybody?). Surely a film like that is more insensitive to the memory of 9/11 than a poster featuring turtles. I try not to use my blog as a means to air all of my grievances with society because I think its petulant and doesn’t contribute to a solution, but in this case I’m making an exception because I think it’s monumentally ridiculous to waste time and energy being outraged and hypersensitive over things like this. 

P.S. I am well aware of the irony that I am reacting hyper-sensitively to the hypersensitivity of society. I’m a writer, I’m not perfect…

[neveridle]

Music Mondays: Ghost Stories

         Ghost Stories is something else. Literally. It’s something entirely different than what has come before, which given that this is Coldplay’s 6th studio album, is quite impressive. Every time I think we’ve heard it all from them, they reinvent themselves and create an entirely new sonic world to explore. This time around, “Chris Martin and Co.” have crafted an intimate, minimalistic, ethereal trip that takes you through the mind of a man wrought with heartbreak but clinging desperately to hope for a brighter future. I say “Chris Martin and Co.” not out of disrespect to the other members of the band, but because this album, more than previous efforts, seems very Chris-centric, given that it’s his way of navigating the fallout of his very public divorce. But I really want to look at this album in a vacuum and take it for what it is musically, ignoring the gossip and noise from the real world to focus on the world of the album.

       I’ve listened through the entire album uninterrupted several times now, but it was only on my most recent listen, minutes before writing this post, that I had an interesting realization. Ghost Stories is so wispy and ethereal throughout that it’s hard to grasp just where it’s going narratively. It almost feels like squinting through the mist in an effort to make out shapes and figures that evaporate almost as quickly as they appear. On this most recent listen however, I was listening, eyes closed, drifting off into sleep when I realized that the narrative of this album is in many ways the chronicle of a single night in the mind of heartbroken, lonely soul. Always In My Head and Magic play out as the thoughts of our protagonist as he falls asleep thinking about his lost lover. Ink is a bit edgier as he flirts with unconsciousness and True Love has the feel of a dangerous lullaby as he finally descends into the arms of a turbulent sleep. Midnight is just that, the darkness enveloping everything as the colors and shapes of his dreams take shape and explode into view. Another’s Arms most certainly represents his nightmares, born from his deepest fears and insecurities of his lover in the arms of another. Oceans is a sort of reprieve from the tumultuous dreams that came before, while A Sky Full of Stars sees the man venturing outside in the hours before dawn to witness the stars before the morning light takes them away. Finally, O is the dawn of a new day as the man looks out across a vast ocean contemplating the nature of love and the notion that there will always be hope to see him through the long nights.

     That’s just my interpretation of course and it could have nothing to do with the actual narrative of the album as envisioned by Chris Martin but that’s the way it resonated with me and it all works really well together. The best albums feature songs that are varied and dynamic, but also feel like they are all roots stemming from the same tree and Ghost Stories, much like Mylo Xyloto and Viva La Vida, does just that. It’s not Coldplay’s best work, as it feels a little short and light, like a snack you would have before a full meal, but there are definitely highlights. Midnight worried a lot of people when it came out but it makes a lot of sense within the context of the album. It’s haunting and evocative of Phil Collins in its use of vocoder. True Love and Another’s Arms are musings on the darker side of love and the hook of True Love (Tell me you love me, if you don’t then lie to me) is probably my favorite line in the whole album. Finally, O is simply a masterpiece; an emotional, heart-wrenching summary of the message of the album: love hurts but don’t ever give up on it. 

[neveridle]

Bond Retrospective: Skyfall

After Quantum Of Solace, Bond was on hiatus for nearly 4 years owing to MGM’s highly publicized financial troubles. Many were wondering if this was the end of Bond, at least for the near future, with Daniel Craig’s tenure ending after just two films. Instead, Sam Mendes, Roger Deakins and co. delivered one of the absolute finest installments of the series to date, effectively assuring Daniel Craig’s continued dominance of the role for years to come. 

Both Skyfall and Die Another Day had the unique honor of being released on the 50 year anniversary, and 20th film anniversary respectively, meaning that both films are chock full of references and callbacks to the past, acknowledging the franchise’s deep, rich history. However, Skyfall succeeds where Die Another Day failed, using the notion of embracing and dealing with your past as a primary facet of the plot itself. All of the clever little references to past films, such as Q’s quip about exploding pens and the brief mention of the ejector seat, to the more overt callbacks such as the return of the DB5 (complete with machine guns in the headlights!) are wonderfully incorporated and successfully induced a state of fan-boy euphoria in the screenings I took part in. 

Going off of that, Skyfall succeeds as the closing chapter to what I like to call Bond’s “Origin Trilogy.” What I mean is that Casino Royale rebooted the franchise and gave us a Bond that was reminiscent of, but a far cry from the famed super-spy we have come to know and love. Despite fans and reviewers lamenting the exclusion of Q, Moneypenny, gadgets and many other Bond staples, what we have received instead is far better: a Bond that we have grown with and whose journey to the man he was destined to become we have experienced firsthand. We see how his love for Vesper helped to temper his arrogance and pride, and how losing her caused him to resort to his womanizing ways as a defense/coping mechanism. We witness his grieving process and his realization that “the dead don’t care about vengeance,” letting go of his pain and moving on. Finally, we see the development of his relationship with Moneypenny and Q as they get to know each other and grow into the comrades they were meant to be. All of this is so well constructed and laid out over the course of Craig’s three films that by time we get to the end of Skfyall, witnessing the classic opening to every Bond film wherein Bond chats up Moneypenny, strolls into M’s office through his leather-backed door, and receives his latest assignment, we as fans feel like we’ve earned it. It’s a remarkable payoff and one that nearly left me breathless as Skyfall came to a fitting close. All three films are a master class in character development, and taken as a trilogy, present us with the most Fleming-esque interpretation of Bond to grace the silver screen.

Judi Dench once again brings it all to her (final) turn as M. People who complained about the lack of a solid Bond girl in light of Severine’s abrupt intro and subsequent exit forget that M is the only “Bond girl” that really matters. The development of their relationship over the past few films reaches its head here in Skyfall and it has truly been a pleasure to watch it unfold, thanks to Dench and Craig’s magnetic chemistry. It’s heart wrenching to see her go but I have no doubt Ralph Fiennes will bring a new dimension to the role in the future. Javier Bardem is potentially the series’ best villain, a dark mirror of Bond driven to insanity and motivated solely by revenge. It makes Skyfall far more intimate and powerful than previous films featuring megalomaniacal villains hell-bent on acts of world domination. Bardem plays Silva with such gleeful mischief and darkness that your eyes are glued to the screen from the moment he is first introduced in that unforgettable long take monologue. Berenice Marlohe, Naomie Harris, and Ben Whishaw all do an excellent job in their supporting roles and I love the continued reinvention of classic Bond characters such as Felix Leiter, Q, and Moneypenny. Like Casino Royale, I could go on for days about this film but I’ll conclude by reiterating that not only is Skyfall one of the franchise’s most powerful, nostalgically fulfilling installments, but it also serves as what I assume is the end of the “origin” trilogy of Craig’s Bond, and a transition to entries more in line with the classic Bond films of lore. Sam Mendes’ confirmed return to helm Bond 24 makes me one happy Bond fan, and the future for the franchise is thankfully bright. 

Honorable Mention: Roger Deakins cinematography is just masterful. After so many action films featuring breakneck edits and incomprehensible hand to hand fight scenes, it’s refreshing to see a cinematographer pull back the camera and let the audience witness an entire fight scene, set to a beautifully luminescent, neon backdrop, in all its visceral, well-choreographed glory.

Favorite Line: “With pleasure, M. With pleasure.”

Girls: 3

Kills: 18

[neveridle]

Bond Retrospective: Quantum Of Solace

Upon its release, Quantum of Solace was met with a lukewarm reception and most critics agreeing that it was a mixed bag, with Daniel Craig once again turning in a powerhouse performance, but one that was ultimately underserved by the messy plot. I can understand a lot of the criticisms leveled at Quantum and I personally think Casino Royale and Skyfall are vastly superior films, but the thing is that every time I watch Quantum of Solace, I like it more and more. It wasn’t until I had seen it a few times, and especially seen it in context with the rest of the Bond series, that I came to really appreciate what it had to offer despite its missteps here and there.

Daniel Craig is as good as ever, showing us a side of Bond that we haven’t really seen except in Licence to Kill: A Bond that is not totally in control and is driven by “inconsolable rage.” Craig brings such a physicality to the role, aptly demonstrated throughout the film (the opening rooftop chase, Bond escaping Mi6 by beating several agents into submission in an elevator etc.), but he still shows us that Bond is a man in pain, grieving a great loss. Moments like when Mathis finds him 6 drinks deep at the airplane bar, only to have the waiter reveal that the drink he has been ordering is the famous “Vesper,” are great ways to highlight Bond’s inner pain without heavy-handed exposition. Olga Kurylenko is a less convincing but does a serviceable job and has her moments, namely her final fist-fight with General Medrano. Giancarlo Giannini once again does a fantastic job as the under-appreciated Mathis, returning to join Bond on his journey to stop Mr. Green but becoming a casualty himself. Mathis’ death is one of the darker moments in any Bond film, and contributes to the powerful sense of tragedy that has come to define this interpretation of Bond. It’s heartbreaking and intimate and highlighted perfectly by the music of David Arnold who returns to score his final Bond film.

This film also benefits greatly from its artistic flourishes which are rarely seen in a Bond movie but help separate Quantum from the rest of the pack. I’m thinking of details such as the creative subtitles indicating different locales, or the excellent cinematography which highlights key moments such as Bond and Mitchell falling from a bell tower and the camera following them as they crash through the glass below. One moment in particular that stood out to me was the scene where Bond and Camille are walking through the desert and are fading in and out as they approach the camera. These are small details but they show character and personality which is nice to see in a franchise blockbuster, and returns the film to the sort of intimacy that made Casino Royale so strong.

All in all, Quantum is a formidable entry to the Bond canon that suffers from a few issues with the plot and villain selection but, compared to a lot of the previous films, ultimately makes another strong argument for the case that Daniel Craig is the best Bond yet. 

Honorable Mention: It’s interesting to note the retrospective parallels between Quantum and The Spy Who Loved Me: Quantum’s opera scene is reminiscent of the desert sequence in Egypt, Bond and Camille walking through the desert is almost identical to Bond and Agent XXX returning from their encounter with Jaws, and an unfortunate henchman holding onto Bond before being coldly pushed off the edge of a building. 

Favorite Line: 

M - “Bond, I need you back.”

Bond - “I never left.”

Girls Seduced: 2

Enemies Killed: 21

[neveridle]

Bond Retrospective: Casino Royale

I was dreading the day that I had to write my reflection on Casino Royale because its truly impossible for me to effectively convey just how strongly I feel about this film. This was the first Bond movie I ever saw in theaters and is the reason for my contemporary love of the series. I guess I’ll start small (sarcasm) by saying that this is without a doubt the best Bond movie to date, a sentiment that is shared by many a critic and Bond aficionado alike. After years and years of gadget heavy, near parodic entries, dangerously approaching pastiche and emphasizing bombastic visuals over sincere, natural character development, Martin Campbell, Daniel Craig and co. delivered a hauntingly tragic, viscerally grounded iteration of an age-old icon that rejuvenated the franchise for fans new and old.

I will forever hold Barbara Broccoli in the highest esteem for her adamance in casting Daniel Craig, then a relatively unknown actor whose appearances in films like Tomb Raider and Layer Cake apparently qualified him for the massive responsibility of taking up the mantle of James Bond. The exorbitant amount of hate spewed his way after the announcement of his casting is matched only by my supreme satisfaction every time I read reviews hailing him as the best Bond ever and his films as the best in the series. His portrayal of Bond reaches a level of emotional complexity and depth previously unexplored, and moments such as the harrowing look on Bond’s face as he gives up on trying to revive Vesper, or his look of masked, internal pain and self-loathing reflected in the mirror of his hotel room (after a brutal fight with two African warlords), are where Daniel Craig truly outshines his predecessors.These emotionally resonant and powerful character moments are punctuated by action scenes that are stylish and visceral in their execution, as well as brilliant in the way they emphasize aspects of Bond’s character. I’m thinking of moments such as Bond’s immensely satisfied smirk as he watches a terrorist blow himself up with his own bomb after an extended chase through the Miami airport. These action sequences are not perfunctory but rather serve to inform Bond’s character further and show us his pride and his arrogance instead of just telling us these things in exposition. Every part of this film is expertly crafted and I have to make special mention of the scene in which Bond first encounters Vesper; it’s simply a masterclass in dialogue and character establishment.

Furthermore, if I had to pick one moment from across the entirety of the franchise’s history that sums up who and what James Bond is, I skip over the admittedly stylish action scenes, out of this world gadgets, and flashy accoutrements and go straight to the scene in the shower after Bond kills the African warlord pursuing Le Chiffre. We see the traditionally unperturbed Bond encountering the one thing he has worked so hard to shut down his entire life: real emotion. This moment where Bond sits in the shower to comfort a visibly traumatized Vesper is not only the moment that he lets his guard down and starts to fall in love for the first time, but also the moment that sets in motion the events that lead Bond to become the super-spy we all know and love. Bond didn’t just come into the world dangerously charismatic a la Roger Moore, or a womanizing killer a la Sean Connery. He was a man who experienced an immense tragedy and adopted his slick, narcissistic brand of emotional detachment as a defense mechanism to prevent future pain, which are things that no other Bond actor could effectively portray until Craig inhabited the role (Roger Moore gave it the good ole’ college try with fleeting references to Bond’s ill-fated marriage in OHMSS).

I could go on for days about all the little things that make this movie fantastic but I’ll keep it simple: Casino Royale returns Bond to his roots in a story that is equal parts intimately tragic, and explosively visceral and, coupled with a powerhouse performance by Daniel Craig, makes this the best Bond film to date. 

Honorable Mentions: After being underdeveloped and underutilized in the Brosnan films, Judi Dench returns as the sole carry-over and establishes her version of M as a powerful ally to Bond and leadership figure in her own right. Additionally, the revised take on the gun barrel sequence and Chris Cornell’s title song are spectacular.

Favorite Line: 

Vesper - “I’m the money.”

Bond - “Every penny of it.”

Girls Seduced: 2

Enemies Killed: 13

[neveridle]

Bond Retrospective: Die Another Day

     By his fourth film it was pretty clear that Brosnan’s tenure as Bond was a mixed bag. GoldenEye represented a rejuvenated take on an age-old icon, presenting its subject matter in a new light and revamping Bond for the modern age. What followed were two fleeting, forgettable entries that were dragged down by their heavy inclusion of all the campy tropes that GoldenEye worked so hard to upend. Die Another Day is no different but where it succeeds is in its clever references to the past, a winning performance from Brosnan that rivals his debut, and above all a plot that doesn’t take itself seriously and is filled with all manner of out of this world, almost video game-esque action sequences; and I mean that in a good way. If you go into it with a healthy sense of humor and embrace the ridiculous elements, its truly one hell of a ride. 

     If you were to pick out a single Bond film as the overall “coolest” of the lot, I feel like you have to go with Die Another Day. I’m not kidding when I say that it plays out like a fantastic video game with moments that make you wish you were playing through the action instead of just watching it. It starts off gritty and intense with a furtive North Korean infiltration sequence that gives way to a creative hovercraft chase. The titles sequence is innovative in that it is the first to actually advance the plot of the film and its one of the most artistic and well-crafted, which is something the Brosnan films did remarkably well. The portion of the titles where Bond is being helped up by both a woman in flames and a woman in ice, coupled with the swelling string breakdown of Madonna’s title track gives me chills every time. The song itself may have been a little too avant-garde but I’ll take something “synthy” and upbeat any day over yawn-inducing tracks like For Your Eyes Only.

     Something of note in Die Another Day is the distinct editing style that adds a very stylized comic book feel to the whole film. The juxtaposition of sped up camera pans and choppy slow mo shots add a unique, stylistic flare which is something that you don’t see too often in a Bond film but is always welcome. The slow mo in particular adds to the dramatic moments of the film, namely sequences such as Zao preparing to torture Jinx, Colonel Moon killing his father, or Bond carrying Jinx into the hot springs.

     Again, the plot is completely at the service of the action sequences, which in this case is a good thing. There’s too many breathtaking Bond moments to count but a few to note are the chase scene on ice between Bond’s Aston Marton “Vanish” and Zao’s suped of Jaguar, the opening chase sequence, the quickly escalating fencing match between Bond and Graves, and many others. All in all, Die Another Day is Brosnan’s Moonraker; campy, utterly ridiculous in its premise, but undeniably enjoyable and fun to watch.

Honorable Mention: Q’s workshop brings tears of nostalgia to the eyes of any true Bond fan.

Favorite Line: “So you live to die another day.”

Girls Seduced: 2

Enemies Killed: 7

[neveridle]

Bond Retrospective: The World Is Not Enough

           The progressive decline in quality in Pierce Brosnan’s Bond films reached its lowest point with The World Is Not Enough. Some would argue Die Another Day was the worst of the 4 but that film at least benefited from its 20th film nostalgia factor and a healthy dose of enjoyable campiness. Die Another Day also distinctly does not take itself seriously, which is something that The World Is Not Enough suffers from immensely, given its absolutely mystifying plot line and hammy performances. The sad part is that I honestly feel like The World Is Not Enough wouldn’t be half bad without the casting of Denise Richards and a more straightforward plot. TWINE benefits greatly from Brosnan’s most emotionally complex performance as Bond, as well as a wonderfully dark plot thread involving kidnapping, ransom, Stockholm Syndrome and the psychological implications of romantic intimacy. It’s a lot of heavy stuff and it gets convoluted when you throw it in the mix with an already weighty and politically centered conflict revolving around oil. 

     The film starts off on the right note with not only the longest pre-titles sequence in the franchise, but also one of the most exhilarating. Bond channels the deadly charm of Roger Moore to perfection in the opening dialogue with a corrupt Swiss banker, quickly bringing out the Connery-esque physicality that meshes so well with his slick swagger. The title track is one of my favorites and a truly pitch perfect Bond song, complete with swelling strings, crooning vocals and twangy guitar riffs with an undercurrent of danger.

     Elektra King is a strong female lead who brings a welcome sense of gravitas that helps her go toe to toe with Bond, especially given the twist that reveals her as one of the primary villains. Renard is also a fantastic villain in my opinion, in the sense that he is a tragic, regretful character whose motives, though vague and underdeveloped, incite a certain degree of empathy thanks to Robert Carlyle’s performance. Zukovsky makes a welcome, albeit ill-fated return and is sent out in style. TWINE also features some of my favorite lines of any Bond film, namely the exchange between Elektra and Bond regarding Bond’s family motto, as well as Q’s parting words to Bond. In addition, the recurring motif of “missing” is a nice touch, cropping up throughout the film in the form of 009’s missed shot, as well as Renard’s “guarantee” that he won’t miss. All in all, had the filmmakers shed some of the dead weight and streamlined the plot, this film could have been a high point in the series instead of one of its lowest.

Honorable Mention: Bringing the Bond family motto back in is a nice touch. 

Favorite Line: “I never miss.”

Girls Seduced: 3

Enemies Killed: 22