Finally arriving on big screens after almost two years of Covid-19 delays, Daniel Craig’s swansong outing as James Bond is an operatically emotional affair, painting cinema’s most famous superspy more as tragic romantic hero than the callous, misogynistic playboy of old. Remarkably, No Time To Die is the first film in the official six-decade 007 canon to be directed by an American, Cary Joji Fukunaga, who stepped in after first choice Danny Boyle departed the project over creative differences with the producers.
Fukunaga does a pretty solid job within the formal restrictions of the long-running franchise, balancing blockbuster commercial necessity with more artful auteur touches, even if he is slightly hobbled by a clunky script from long-time Bond screenwriters Neal Purvis and Robert Wade. With a budget reportedly nudging $300 million, plus massive marketing and promotional costs, producers MGM and distributors Universal / United Artists are banking on this much-hyped tentpole release to open big and save multiplex cinema from pandemic slump. No Time to Die launches this week across most of Europe, Asia and South America, with a North American release to follow October 8.
In the six-year wait since the last Bond film, Spectre (2015), much has changed in the world, including the rise and fall of Donald Trump’s presidency, the blossoming of the Black Lives Matter movement, and the death of two iconic actors who first embodied Bond on screen, Sean Connery and Roger Moore. With its nods to racial diversity and gender equality, including an extra script polish by Phoebe Waller-Bridge, No Time to Die has been billed as a more “woke” 007 film. This is debatable, as these elements mostly feel cosmetic and tokenistic. Rooted in machismo and patriotic pride, the franchise remains inherently conservative. But Fukunaga’s film does feature probably the most sensitive, tender 007 to date. In Craig’s words, Bond is a “wounded animal” here.
Almost a decade ago, the Sam Mendes-directed Skyfall (2012) introduced the post-Freudian Bond, scarred by grief and loss and childhood trauma. It also began the trend of killing off major characters, a bold strategy later copied by the rebooted Star Wars and Marvel Comics Universe franchises. In between action set-pieces, No Time to Die returns to this emotionally charged terrain, making Bond more lover than fighter, deep into a serious romance with Madeleine Swann (Léa Seydoux), the glamorous French psychotherapist with the splendidly Proustian name who first got under his skin in Spectre. Without getting into spoilers, Fukunaga’s film also shoots for maximum dramatic impact with the deaths of two significant recurring characters and strong hints of another major casualty.
No Time to Die is the longest Bond movie yet, and it certainly feels like it in the ponderous London mid-section, which spends way too much time trying to make sense of a creaky, preposterous plot about apocalyptic bio-weapons and shadowy secrets within MI6. When the action finally gets moving again, it tangles both Bond and Madeleine in a bizarre love triangle with vengeful Russian megalomaniac Lyutsifer Safin (Rami Malek), the most subtly named screen villain since Cruella De Vil. Malek is a fine actor but his Safin is pure hammy gothic melodrama, his scarred face and creepy mask straight out of Phantom of the Opera, and his motive for mass murder beyond silly: “People want oblivion, and some of us are born to give it to them.” Which barely makes sense as a pretentious poster line for a Calvin Klein perfume, never mind a plausible reason for genocide.
Among the familiar faces, Craig looks craggy and worn, spending much of the film drenched in blood, sweat and tears. Ralph Fiennes succeeds in painting morally compromised MI6 chief M in slightly darker shades than usual while Christoph Waltz makes the most of a brief Hannibal Lecter-style cameo as jailed Spectre chief Blofeld. Another welcome returnee is Jeffrey Wright as Bond’s long-time CIA buddy Felix Leiter, and Naomie Harris gets more great outfits than great lines as Moneypenny. As for the new arrivals, Lashana Lynch delivers cool swagger and sassy verbal sparring as the new 007, Bond’s official replacement, while Ana de Armas brings sexy comic zing as a rookie CIA agent who assists Bond on a deadly mission at a glitzy Cuban cocktail party. Much like Ginger Rogers to Fred Astaire, she does everything he does, but backwards and in heels.
Fukunaga and his team handle the obligatory action sequences, exotic locations and high-gloss lifestyle porn with panache. From a superbly orchestrated pre-credits car chase through the picturesque streets of Martela in Southern Italy to a final kinetic long-shot hand-held sequence of close-up combat, credit is due here to Oscar-winning Swedish cinematographer Linus Sandgren (La La Land), Besides a shiny fleet of vintage Aston Martins, there are multiple nods to Bond history here. Safin’s island headquarters, a symphony in brutalist concrete, pays homage to the classic Bond-villain lairs designed by the late, great Ken Adam. Keen fans will spot the recurring allusions to On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969), ominous foreshadowing of a tragic finale which does not quite play as expected. No Time to Die is bloated and plodding in places, but it ultimately delivers the goods, tugs at the heartstrings and sends Craig out in a blaze of glory.
Director: Cary Joji Fukunaga
Screenplay: Neal Purvis, Robert Wade, Cary Joji Fukunaga, Phoebe Waller-Bridge
Cast: Daniel Craig, Léa Seydoux, Rami Malek, Lashana Lynch, Ralph Fiennes, Ben Whishaw, Naomie Harris Jeffrey Wright, Ana de Armas, Billy Magnussen, Christoph Waltx
Cinematography: Linus Sandgren
Editing: Elliot Graham, Tom Cross
Music: Hans Zimmer
Production designer: Mark Tildesley
Producers: Michael G. Wilson, Barbara Broccoli
Production companies: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (US), Eon Productions (UK)
In English, French
163 minutes
