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Stanley McHale is a single man rapidly approaching thirty who loves and dreams of the same things he did when he was seventeen. But the band was never formed, the novel never finished, and the ill-chosen career in stand-up comedy is giving him more headaches than headlines. With the self-imposed deadline of his thirtieth birthday to either make an international success of himself or go and work in Woolworths, why not pull yourself up ringside seats for the tragically inevitable descent into mania and psychosis by reading his increasingly inane, pedantic, desperate, harrowing and wretched daily diary. It'll make you feel a whole lot better about yourself.

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Thursday 16th November 2006

Posted by on November 16, 2006 2:28 PM | 

And so Bond Day, the day we’ve been looking forward to feverishly for a couple of weeks since booking tickets for Casino Royale, finally arrived. It’s been enjoyable to look forward so much to the release of a film, because it’s refreshingly childish, and I was genuinely full of Christmas Day-style enthusiasm this morning. Wade had arrived from London last night and we made our way to Slater Street to meet Trevor in the Jacaranda and were soon joined by others.

I had debated wearing a tux for the occasion, seeing as I’d be the only one, and begun thinking it would be a silly idea. But Bond films are famously a bit silly and in the event I was glad I chose to, although fully aware it was very much like turning up to a Star Trek convention in full Starship Enterprise uniform. I also didn’t want to make out I was a bigger Bond fan than anyone else in the cinema, to be seen pulling rank if you like, because although I’ve been looking forward to Casino Royale more than any other film this year, I only have a sketchy knowledge of the franchise compared to some pathetic Bond nerds. I can’t even list all the Roger Moore era films in order. I am hopeless compared to a bona fide Bond geek.

But I was glad I wore the tux. And besides, if you’re turning up to the 2.45pm showing of a film on it’s day of release you can’t really hide your nerdiness or enthusiasm and so the crowd that had missed work to see this opening screening were all in the same boat. I bet they were all wishing they’d worn a tux too. Yes, that is what they were wishing.

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again… the FACT cinema is wonderful. They were doing special vodka martinis for £3.50 in the foyer and after we’d gone in and got our seats I thought it would be ridiculous to watch this film without one and so went back downstairs to sort it out.

“Are you taking this into a film?� said the barman.

“Yes…�

“Then you’ll have to have it in a plastic glass I’m afraid.�

This was ridiculous, and I told him so.

“But that’s ridiculous!� I said. “If you’re offering martinis you can’t pour them into a plastic beaker. Look, it’s only me here, no-one else will see and I’ll return the glass, I promise. Please make an exception? Please?�

He saw sense and realised he couldn’t mess with the martini of someone who had turned up in a tux for the opening screening of a Bond film. I commend his thinking in this red-tape world and I was the envy of my pals as I reappeared before the film started and took my seat with a stirred (not shaken – NEVER shake a martini whatever Bond says, in the original books he had them stirred, as you should, but it was changed to “shaken, not stirred� when the first film was written because it sounded better) martini in my hand. Truly, we were ready for the film that Trevor and I had been sending each other juvenile ‘3 days to go’, ‘2 days to go’ text messages about for the last fourteen days. We are idiots.

The film itself is good… It’s very good in fact, but it’s not excellent. What IS excellent is Daniel Craig in the role of 007 – he’s immense and perfect. It’s impossible to now think of anyone in the role of Bond than him. And impossible to see how they’ll be able to replace him. He’s Fleming’s Bond. On the one hand he’s an unstoppable terminator – crashing through everything placed in front of him – but on the other hand he’s a paranoid and unsure individual, who on more than one occasion comes unstuck through ego. He has the crap beaten out of him too, and unlike previous Bonds he bleeds and gets injured. The Bond theme doesn’t appear right until the end and the thinking behind this (I saw an interview with David Arnold) is that as soon as you hear that theme, you feel everything is going to be alright and Bond is invincible. In this, Bond is flawed and far from invincible. Invincible in a fight, certainly, but not invincible on a mission because he’s raw and not quite sure what he’s doing all the time.

So it’s darker, but what’s clever is how the Bond elements we all expect are there. The Daniel Craig one-liners are witty and sharp but never cheesy as they would have been with, say, Moore or even Piers Brosnan. I suppose he’s closer to the Connery version of Bond, but that’s unfair because Daniel Craig has completely made the role his own without reference to any other actor. And Connery would frequently smile. On the rare occasion Daniel Craig smiles in this film you actually feel relieved, because the tension that surrounds this killing machine is momentarily released.

The humour in such a moody film is perfectly pitched. Amazingly, there are only about five laughs in the whole flick (it’s two and a half hours long) but each one is perfectly on the money and got a great response from the audience.

The girls are fabulous, the locations suitably exotic. The action is, no matter how bruising and brutal, typically outlandish. And most importantly, the relationship between Bond and the Bond girl actually means something. She’s not just along for the ride, she sees right through Bond and is more than a match for him. Which is probably why he falls in love with her which adds a whole new dimension.

When the film ended we went to the office for martinis. Chris and Jamie from Room had come up, Chris armed with a martini kit in a silver case, and we begun to get drunk. From there it was onto The Tea Factory and I began to feel the tickets for the 8.30pm showing burning a hole in my pocket. We’d seen the film now… did we really want to see it again?

Of course! Trevor and I went to the second screening and this time it was even better. Bigger room, sold out, front row with a massive screen. People laughing and clapping as the action unfolded. It was perfect – it felt more like a big event than the afternoon one. The film got a round of applause at the closing credits this time (that rare thing in Britain) and so I think we can call it a hit.

Needless to say, the rest of the evening was spent talking to girls pretending to be Bond. I’m not even ashamed of that, it’s why you go to a Bond film in the first place. It’s boy’s own stuff.

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