Saturday, 2 October 2010

Number 44: James Bond - Quantum Of Solace

'Guys why are we holding the
NRA meeting in the desert? GUYS?!'
The suavest man in the world. The man that turned the incredibly queer martini into the ultimate drink for manly men (with the exception of Pimm's). I'm talking, of course, about James Bond. Why is he so cool? Because he can sustain huge car chases and dive off large buildings in a tux! I can barely move when I wear a tux, and when I do I chafe like nobody's business. Yet Bond never  breaks a sweat during these high octane pursuits. In all the films previous to this (we don't speak of Dalton, ever) the actors have portrayed Bond admirably, and they have (most importantly) kept his charm.

What the fuck were MGM thinking when they made this putridly, shit piece of cinema? It's becoming more and more apparent that the film industry thinks that they can sit us down like children and play us a (pretty much) non-stop reel of explosions. Well, I've got news for you: we're stupid, we're very very very stupid, but can we at least have something close to a storyline?  I'm pretty certain that there's a massive time jump between being in a city, and then suddenly being in a really horribly designed hotel in the desert. I also seem to remember a stupid amount of fire, an African guy attempting to rape a woman and Gemma Arterton's breasts.

So, that's it pretty much it: explosions and breasts. I would expect that from Transformers, TRANSFORMERS AKA the mutated love child of Michael Bay and Paramount, but not from Bond.

Licence to kill? More like licence to drill (my eyes out).


  1. Sadly there weren't even breasts. Hinted at, but never shown- stupid 12A system denying me my boobies!

  2. goddamit.. im glad mgm went bust