FILM REVIEW: Skyfall

It's Bond, it's Daniel Craig, and it's definitely worth watching, but on the whole it feels like the late noughties "Bond revolution" has come full circle

Ah, Cool Britannia...

To watch Skyfall is to be reminded of Pierce Brosnan's James Bond flicks and also a quote that was once applied to former US President Bill Clinton – that is to say, something that tries to be all things to all people will eventually earn no gratitude. It's the compromising, coy outlook of director Sam Mendes and the fanboyish tendencies of screenwriter John Logan that make this 50th anniversary outing less than what it could have been. Of course, it's not the self-indulgent disaster that Die Another Day was – with a cast like this, how could it be? -  but it has an unfocused nature that hangs over the film like an incurable malady. A writer like Logan is great at creating standout moments, but his scripts make no sense when contemplated (I'll continue to believe that the background work of Stephen Sondheim, Tim Burton and the cast truly made Sweeney Todd what it was) and this mantra just about rings true for Skyfall. It's very tempting to argue that the Bond series has fallen into epic self-congratulation again following the welcomingly brutal detour taken during the early Daniel Craig years.

"Where's my air gun?"

One of the joys, if you can call it that, of Casino Royale and Quantum Of Solace was watching 007 cope "on his own" in a brutal world where no one seemed fully certain about who they knew, where they were going or what they were doing. Elements of this are retained in Skyfall's plot, a blend of cyber-terrorism, all out terrorism and personal vendetta revolving around chief antagonist Raoul Silva - portrayed by a barely present Javier Bardem - while Bond and Judi Dench's M are forced to confront both their past and their future, all whilst a series of action scenes, big speeches and newly iconic introductions are taking place. It's a highly promising set-up, but what we get amounts to not that much more than Die Hard 4.0 blown up to epic proportions and with a much weaker "villain". It's not that Bardem needs a lot of screen time to succeed – he was effortlessly commanding in his all too brief cameo in Collateral – but he's working with the wrong director. There's little in Silva that's truly intimidating, a real condemnation of Sam Mendes' ability to direct actors (as time goes by, Kevin Spacey is proving the exception to the rule) and a sobering reminder of what could have been had Michael Mann or the Coens been directing Bardem. There's no sense of menace here; Jesper Christensen, as the even more marginal and shadowy Mr. White, was far more frightening.

"What am I doing in Octopussy?"

If Casino Royale was clever enough to tie itself in with the banking crisis by making money the root of the story – likewise Quantum Of Solace with modern day terrorism - Skyfall seems to exist in a cloud, like neither Royale nor Quantum even happened. It’s as if Mendes cannot master the clarity, interconnectivity and emotionalism that made Nolan's Batman trilogy and the first two Die Hard flicks such successful films. While it’s true that Bond’s "me against the world" mentality – brought up in the last two films because he eventually felt he had no choice – is retained here, it fails to resonate on the same level because of Mendes' uncertain flippancy. There are moments where one feels like we're watching Daniel Craig in a Roger Moore film – an awkward concoction indeed. Far too much about Skyfall feels redundant, whether it's the title tune (bland), Berenice Marlohe's "Bond Girl" (who gets a predicable denouement) or the self-indulgent references to previous Bonds (I counted at least four in the pre-credits sequence alone).

Skyfall is at its best when it concentrates on the elements of loss and mistrust hinted at in Royale and Quantum, and also when Mendes stops trying too hard, allowing both cast and cinematographer to shine. There's plenty here to keep Bondians tickled, such as likable, convincing performances from Naomie Harris and Ralph Fiennes (both were due a big break, and I'm happy to see them get it here), the highly amusing introduction of the new Q (Ben Wishaw) and the inimitable Albert Finney. The pleasures we ultimately get from Skyfall seem geared to capitalise, perhaps overly so, on the goodwill carried over from the London Olympics; and we know it's not going to last.

Fans will probably argue that it is best that the Bond series seems to be going in this direction – that it's no longer "pretending to be smart and realistic" – except the smart pseudo realism of the Daniel Craig era has been the very essence of its appeal. Iconic though the ending feels, it also leaves one with a feeling of unease, the same unease Mendes displays when directing this film. He doesn't seem to know if Bond should be a remedy for the zeitgeist or a reflection of it – and by trying to have it both ways, he ends up with something that's far less than the sum of its parts.

Margaret Keys Comes Home

As the City Of Culture 2013 gets closer, a local girl made good returns home. Si's Sights And Sounds looks back on a memorable occasion at the First Derry Presbyterian Church

"Art and music are basic human functions. The most common way to become involved with music is to listen to - or attend - a musical event."
-- The Reverend David Latimer

The high walls and fine acoustics of the First Derry Presbyterian Church make it an excellent venue for any kind of choral event. Especially the homecoming of Derry soprano Margaret Keys, whose soaring, operatic vocals have earned her countless fans both abroad and at home. One approaches her performance with the Kings Chorale Choir with considerable expectations; and I am happy to say they are met.

The Belfast-based King's Chorale immediately succeed in giving the impression of enjoying themselves and in conveying a holy message. Their well balanced harmonies, speedy tone and "no frills" approach earns deserved applause, before the time comes for Keys to perform her first selection of songs.

She's wearing a purple dress, but, luckily for both her and us, the colour of said dress doesn't match the look on our faces, as her home grown sense of humour and powerful voice quickly raise everyone's spirits. We get to enjoy an operatic take on The Lord's Prayer, a controlled rendition of "Morning Has Broken" and a heartfelt performance of "Bless This House", but for this writer, her version of "Tears In Heaven" still comes out on top. She once told me that she likes to sing crowd pleasing songs "with a touch of class", and that's exactly what this is. I might even argue that she outdoes Eric Clapton here.

By the time we hear The King's Chorale again, both the tenors and sopranos have become more prominent, as if Keys has inspired them. They carry this new found soul and joyous tempo into the unexpectedly uplifting "God’s Choir" and the very Aaron Copland-esque "Hand Me Down My Silver Trumpet". The thought of Western-themed music directly alongside more traditional pieces sounds rather jarring, yet it works pretty well here. "Hallelujah We Shall Rise" isn't quite as memorable, but it does give the basses a chance to stand out.

As the second half opens, Keys returns in a very fetching white dress. Even more fetching is her beautiful rendition of "Nella Fantasia" (from The Mission) which arguably resonates more than any other piece she performs on the night. Yes, even the soft, slow-burning "All Through The Night", admirable renditions of "Bring Him Home" and "Clare Benediction", not to mention a fine performance of “You’ll Never Walk Alone”, which literally concludes her evening – as a soloist, anyway – on a high note.

But what's most of note here (pun intended!) is not just how at ease Keys feels, but how at ease she makes everyone else feel, be it the choir, audience, congregation, photographers or journalists. A little smile, a drink of water, a few photos on her iPhone camera and a passion for chocolate – at one point, she treats us all to Cadbury’s Roses! – is all it takes. More than that, her camaraderie with her fellow performers – particularly local singer Willie Loughlin – seems effortless, undoubtedly inspiring his booming, evocative rendition of "Wind In The Willows".

It's left for the exuberance, passion and harmony of the choir, with Keys in tow, to conclude the evening on a high note for everyone; and leave one looking forward to what we will hear next from this hugely talented soprano.

Margaret Keys will next be performing at the Titanic Quarter for a BBC Christmas Special Broadcast on December 21. For more information, check out her official site.

FILM REVIEW: Casino Royale/Quantum Of Solace

In a two part tale of money, love and vengeance, the overriding theme is trust

To this day, I think it's kind of telling that one of the clearest memories I have of watching Casino Royale in the cinema is seeing the stunning visage of Eva Green's Vesper Lynd dominate the big screen as she rises Daniel Craig's James Bond from his slumbers. Beautifully framed, it captures another kind of awakening, the beginning of Bond's shot at redemption; an opening into what he and we believe will be a comforting new world. We are as enraptured by Vesper's features as he is, making the film's eventual denouement that much harder to take, and giving Craig's first two Bondian ventures an emotional core that much of the famous series (with the exception of On Her Majesty's Secret Service) has so obviously lacked.

But the core of Casino Royale runs deeper than mere emotionalism. To these eyes, the look on Bond's face when he fails to revive Vesper near movie's end is emblematic of the entire picture. Since earning his legendary "00"-status, Bond has lived a dangerous and at times extremely painful lifestyle, but has nonetheless thrived on its many perks. In the midst of a series of near death experiences and narrow escapes, he has enjoyed the cars, suits and money that the alleged romanticism of the spy life provides; and it's no coincidence that the sequences that illustrate this, be they in the Bahamas, the titular casino or besides Lake Como, are the most beautifully photographed in the film, in a manner that recalls the more "trusting" and "carefree" era of the 1960s Bond movies. What's unfortunate is that the moment he believes he has surrendered all this danger for a truly "romantic" lifestyle (with Vesper), said lifestyle turns out to be as phony as everything that preceded it. When you are involved as deeply as he is, you cannot just "leave with whatever (you) have left"; and he doesn't realise the price of letting his guard down until it is too late. The very thing he has spent the whole film seeking to protect ends up in the hands of "the enemy", rendering all his efforts inconsequential.*

And he is not alone. Notice the movie's consistent use of the colour red – most notably in the eye of villain Le Chiffre (a creepy Mads Mikkelsen) and the last item of clothing Vesper wears, and probably the best "bloody iris" of them all – and then consider it in tandem with the behaviour of the main characters. Everyone, despite their composed facade, is tormented and uncertain in a world where filthy lives have filthy consequences. This trend successfully continues into the messier but ultimately more resonant Quantum Of Solace, providing a one-two knockout punch of powerful ambiguity. It's Daniel Craig in his very own Munich, and a more effective one at that.

At the time of its release, Casino Royale was also a knockout punch of a different kind. Many viewers, including this one, found it extremely refreshing to see the ridiculously over-the-top Die Another Day (a film more cartoonish than any of Roger Moore's Bonds, and that's saying something), followed by something more down to earth, bruising and in tandem with the early post-9/11 atmosphere in which Bond's not-so-distant cousin Jason Bourne thrived. Even if the film took on a little more than it could chew (the narrative was arguably too ambitious even for a two-and-a-half hour film), this was, along with From Russia With Love, On Her Majesty's Secret Service and possibly Licence To Kill, as close to "art", let alone Ian Fleming's literature, as Bond could possibly get. The theme song (listen below) was the best in years, the set-pieces were memorable, and the "Bond Girl", if you can call her that, left an indelible impression.** Half the "tropes", such as Moneypenny and the outlandish gadgetry, may have been missing, but in every other way Royale offered everything you could want from a Bond film, and more. Even the self-aware references didn't interfere with the story; Bond genuinely doesn't "give a damn" about whether his martini's shaken or stirred, and considering the tension in the poker game, why should he?

In a way, however, the years have not been too kind to Casino Royale. Like Martin Scorsese's The Departed, the hyperactive nihilism and excessive use of cell phones feel very much like a product of the mid-noughties. Such trends were rendered meaningless in Quantum Of Solace, but alas, so too were its predecessor’s focus, structure and cinematography. In its place we got nonsense, inconsistency and ugliness.

Yet time has led me to believe that this is actually the point of the picture. Even though Craig's Bond has more presence and authority than before, his thirst for vengeance has left him less in control of himself; and the haphazard nature of both the action scenes and the story emphasize this. If Casino Royale is more of a "retro" Bond, Quantum Of Solace is more about looking forward. The true grit and sadism of the late noughties "Bond revolution" lies in Quantum Of Solace.

Where to start? Consider the genuine grunginess of our hero and his accomplice (in this case, Olga Kurylenko’s Camille) as they are forced to trudge through the desert and queue for a bus. Consider the fates of Giancarlo Gianni's Mathis and Gemma Arterton's Fields (her fate, written off by many as a cheap reference, is actually more upsetting than its "inspiration"), the corruption within the CIA (Jeffrey Wright's Felix Leiter is the Commissioner Gordon of these Bond films, the only "good cop" left), and, perhaps most significantly, the actions and fate of Mathieu Amalric's "villain" Dominic Greene. He's been written off as being too nerdy, yet look again. Coolly intimidating on the surface, vulnerable underneath; is he really that different from Le Chiffre? And he doesn't need a bloody eye.

Both Casino Royale and Quantum Of Solace are movies about scattered pawns in a constant game of chance, a game which some are born, or determined, to handle better than others. There are no real winners or losers in this Bond world, a world where you need to watch your back at all times, because, as Judi Dench's M puts it, you never really know anybody. To be frank, I think the true message of these films can be summed up best by paraphrasing Jesper Christensen's Mr. White: Nothing, let alone money, is as valuable to anyone in this world as knowing who to trust.

* * * * *

*Not to mention making Casino Royale a slightly lesser cousin to Raiders Of The Lost Ark; consider what would have happened had Indy chosen not to chase the titular artefact.

**Some claim that Eva Green is underused, but I think they're missing the point; the more withdrawn Vesper appears, the more believable she is as the "complicated woman" she claims herself to be.