Cold comfort

Quantum of Solace
12A, Nationwide

Quantum of Solace is the latest James Bond movie, which I thought I would make clear from the start. These films arrive with such little pre-publicity and hoo-ha they can often slip by quite unnoticed. (As one regular cinema goer told me, ‘I’d have at least liked the chance to win his watch.’ And as another said, ‘I’d like to dress like him, so why doesn’t anyone ever write about the clothes?’) Anyway, what’s it like? Well, although it’s not the most crushing disappointment of all time — finding you have won the lottery but lost the ticket is probably more crushing, I imagine — it is still a crushing disappointment.

It has none of the emotional power, intelligence or stylishness of Casino Royale, and doesn’t even give itself the odd, knowing wink. No Speedos, no plays on Martinis being shaken or stirred, no Omega moments and, as for the theme music, it doesn’t strike up until the final credits roll, which is a bit weird, considering it has to be the most rousing, iconic, film theme music of all time. I do think director Marc Forster (Monster’s Ball, Finding Neverland) has rather thrown the baby out with the bathwater, and while I am all for throwing babies out with the bathwater generally — babies are a lot of work, after all — the result here is an unengaging, cold and mechanised affair without heart. It’s also quite boring. And there isn’t enough sex. Not nearly enough sex. Hell, let’s be honest, I’m never going to have sex with Daniel Craig, unless he happens to be passing and I can get the rugby tackle in quick enough, so I’d have liked my Craig fantasy to have received a little nourishment at least.