Showing posts with label ChristophWaltz. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ChristophWaltz. Show all posts

Friday, 26 November 2021

No Time To Die (2021)


When it is all said and done, this final Daniel Craig James Bond movie has revealed that all the major players of all the recent movies have been moving all their lives in a circle so so small, so insular that the spy's world ends up looking like a daytime soap: he/she grew up with him/her and he/she is the son/daughter/mother/father/secret twin of him/her and is the one responsible for this/that major event in this/that other character's life, and everyone's made at least two trips through the snow to a particular home in remote Norway - making No Time To Die the soapiest, most melodramatic James Bond episode yet; themes are ripped from Greek tragedy: there's long-lost family secrets, a modern-day Midas touch, and diabolical revenge sought by yet another facially disfigured male villain; but it is beautiful and engrossing and checks all of those James Bond boxes - exquisitely photographed locations, expertly choreographed action, sophistication and sexiness - not quite achieving the sublime thrills of Casino Royale but certainly not a Quantum of Solace either - in terms of James Bond quality, this is more Skyfall or Spectre.

★★★★☆

CINECAL: ONE SENTENCE REVIEWS

Wednesday, 26 April 2017

Spectre (2015)


A message from beyond the grave from Judy Dench's M sends Daniel Craig's icy James Bond from a Dias de Los Muertos parade in Mexico to Austria, Morocco and to the deserts of Northern Africa as he hunts the head of a powerful network of evil, in this 24th Bond instalment, for the most part a spectacular thrill ride but punctuated with a number of scenes in which the agent's luck is groanworthy.

★★★

CINECAL: ONE SENTENCE REVIEWS

Saturday, 2 January 2016

Django Unchained (2012)

It is interesting this, another Tarantino revenge-driven pulp saga, references The Three Musketeers because it is Dumas' other work, The Count of Monte Cristo, that springs to mind watching Jamie Foxx's ex-slave Django, at one stage horseback in a shimmering electric blue Fauntleroy outfit, enjoying a renaissance in disguise, meting out a cold dish of revenge against America's South, but this is less rollicking fun than Dumas' story and more than other Tarantino, anxiety-inducing and contrived.

★★★☆☆

CINECAL: ONE SENTENCE REVIEWS

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