January 16, 2013--Double-O-Seven

One of the good things about this time of year is the chance to catch up on some of the best movies of the year. Producers typically hold them back until now so as to fix them in the memories of Golden Globe and Academy Award nominators.

So during the past two weeks we have seen Argo, Silver Lining Playbook, The Sessions, and Lincoln. Upcoming this week and next will be The Life of Pi, Rust and Bone, Amour, Zero Dark Thirty, and Django Unchained. A fairly heavy-duty list of generally high-quality films.

So for relief from watching Sessions, about a remarkable young man, paralyzed from polio and confined to an iron lung, who loses his virginity with the help of a sex surrogate (based on a true story); and looking in on Abraham Lincoln as he cajoled, threatened, and bribed his political opponents in order to get the 13th Amendment through Congress, we checked out the latest James Bond flick, Skyfall.

It was as expected--pure shoot-em-up-blow-em-up entertainment. Formulaic to be sure with Bond involved in mayhem all the while dressed in a suit or tux, scenes in ritzy gambling casinos (this time in Macao), and of course assorted "James Bond Girls." Less formulaic is having Bond, Daniel Craig, more in the buff than the Girls.

Javier Bardem plays the familiar comic-book, blonde-haired villain but with a twist--yes, he has his sex-slave companion, but he is clearly also quite gay and makes a move on Bond, who he has handcuffed to a chair. Seductively unbuttoning Bond's shirt and gently stroking his face and chest, the Bardem character, Raoul Silva, looks leeringly at 007 and tells him to relax, he might enjoy his "first time" at "this." Looking leeringly back at Silva, Bond says, "How do you know it's my first time?" Love it.

Less to love is the movie's basically regressive subtext--particularly the roles relegated to women. Of course in the past the Bond Girls couldn't resist Bond even when trying to kill him. So I'm used to that and can deal with it. This time, however, things in regard to women are quite different.

I would not have noticed any of this or other weaknesses in the script if the writing, acting, and directing hadn't been so predictable. Two-and-a-half hours is long time to sit through a movie unless it sweeps you along. Skyfall didn't. At least not me.

First there is all sorts of Freudian claptrap. Skyfall is the Scottish castle that had been the ancestral home of the Bonds, where Little James spent his formative years, and the place where the movie ends, with Bond emotively talking about his childhood and how his becoming an orphan at an early age set him on a course to become a special agent. Who needs this?

He reveals this about his early life to M, played by the magnificent Judy Dench, who is holed up with him in Skyfall, awaiting the arrival and final shootout with Silva and his 20 henchmen. Twenty-to-one being the usual configuration of the final confrontation where Bond and his small pistol and sharp wits overcome his better armed and equipped adversaries, assuring us that there is still a place in the world for rugged individuals and lone operatives.

But, as portrayed here, there is no longer an equivalent place for strong women. The traditional sexism in the Bond franchise has been the parade of easy-to-seduce-and-disarm Bond Girls. One smooch with 007 and even tough-minted Russian spies melt. More recently, with Dench playing M, there was also a leadership role carved out for women.

But in Skyfall (spoiler alert!), M is killed and succeeded by Ralph Fiennes, who, we are told at the end, will be the new M in upcoming Bond movies; and the terrific, female African-British agent, Eve, played by Naomie Harris, who in Skyfall is every bit as effective in the field as 007, winds up at the end asking for an office assignment--giving up field operations to become Fiennes-M's secretary. She announces to Bond just before we go to the final credits that she's the new Moneypenny.

From Eve to Moneypenny. Get it? Ugh.