Kazz's Review Corner: Casino Royale

Can you imagine Sean Connery sitting, fully-clothed, in a shower, comforting a crying woman? Can you imagine Pierce Brosnan getting his ass poisoned and stumbling helplessly through the street? This movie marks the transformation of Bond from Connery's sarcastic thug, from Brosnan's faggot with watch lasers, to a dynamic, flawed, interesting character.

That's the primary draw of the new Bond. They've taken the previously invincible, infallible character and given him (and, in fact, the villain) something he's had little of before: vulnerability. He fails. He messes up. People get the better of him sometimes, as evidenced in an early chase scene in which he, true to life, can not outrun a black man.

This new, reality-acquainted Bond is a rebellious underdog. He's easy to identify with, and therefore, easy to root for. That's why it's so frustrating when he falls in love with a dumb bitch and the movie goes on a 20-minute tangent about what a sap he can be. K$ claims that they're setting up him up to be more callous and uncaring in the future, but I think they wanted to sell the new Bond on any front they hadn't tried before (because, let's face it, you couldn't give the old Bond away for free).

By the way, the plot of this movie is either really deep or really, really shallow. It all seems to revolve around whether or not Beardy-man can be trusted. The most we ever really figure out about him is that he apparently believes himself to be the color commentator for ESPN's World Series of Poker. Anyway, people who watch Bond movies for the plot are retarded. This Bond is about what it should be about: chicks, cars, guns, and kicking immense amounts of ass.

Aside from the opening credits, which unfortunately mimic the old CG-heavy tripe we've all seen before, the movie is pretty much free of irritating faggotry. Simply put: This is not a Royale with Cheese.

*swish*


It gets four bloody fetuses out of five.