DIE ANOTHER DAY (Lee Tamahori, 2002)

Reviewed: December 3rd, 2002

Die Another Day? Would love to. How about the henceforth day I see a decent Bond film, effectively rendering me immortal. Only finally went to this atrocity because I had a few hours to kill today and I figured throwing my ass in the Bond Seat (a.k.a. the Mercy Seat as described by Nick Cave) was better than wandering around aimlessly in 25 degree bitter cold (15 degrees with wind chill). I was scarcely right. Nothing to like here in this tidy representation of every single thing wrong with cinema. This movie is nothing more than a business transaction, an enterprise solely about the making of money (whereas at least even in a horrific, unmitigated disaster like, say, Swordfish, I get the sense the filmmaker genuinely believes in the project); no one on board besides maybe the costume and production designers are attempting anything approximating creative expression here. This is might be the only film of the year in which I cannot think of a single element to praise: plotting doesn't even try and make sense, acting is nonexistent, villains are piss-poor cartoons, SFX are some of the worst of the last fifteen years, every shot is lit like a high-school play, entendres are so lame they couldn't titillate a nursing home crowd. After the brain-numbing, cataclysmic assault of the last half hour, I found a pleasure as normally-take-for-granted as quiet to be virtually orgasmic. So this is what it's come to, eh? This is "Entertainment?" Next time I want to watch 2 hours and 10 minutes of cash changing hands I'll hang around a bank teller.

Return home.