When 2012’s Skyfall first played theatrically, I was there with my butt in the seat, and – in all honesty – I didn’t much care for it.
I know, I know, I know: “why, it’s quintessential Bond – as are all the Daniel Craig flicks, right – so how could you possibly not love it?”
Characters matter. They always have, and they always will.
When storytellers tinker with characters, they run the risk of corroding the foundation that made these creations “quintessential” in the beginning. If not contextually corrected at some point in the course of the film or the franchise, then producers run the risk of not only alienating their core audience but also morphing the series into something it was perhaps never designed to be. With the great Ian Fleming long gone, there’s no way for us to know with any degree of certainty whether or not he’d be smitten with the latest and (cough cough) greatest iteration; but – as I often do – I’m going on record to suggest that those claiming to be ‘in the know’ really haven’t a clue what they’re talking about.
How can I say that? How can I suggest those studio executives paying themselves millions upon millions of dollars to (cough cough) twerk archetypal heroes and heroines into all-new thematic directions – imbuing them with contemporary social justice ideas, rainbow-colors, and pronoun choices – could possibly know better than you or I?
Well, for starters, they’re paying themselves up front for their efforts, as I said, which means that they’re not willing to let their transformations stand for themselves, build an audience, and reap the appropriately earned rewards as did so many who came before. Gone are the days when a George Lucas, a Steven Spielberg, a Gene Roddenberry, a David Lynch, a Martin Scorsese, a Rockne O’Bannon, or even a Charles Band emerged on the landscape and tried to do something authentically original; and in is the era of those who’d shamelessly steal Lucas’s, Spielberg’s, Roddenberry’s, Lynch’s, Scorsese’s, O’Bannon’s, or Band’s intellectual properties, deconstruct what made originally them tick, and realign the mechanisms to suit whatever ‘cause du jour’ needs some celebrity attention today. Ratings are out, and award wins are in. Profits are so ‘last century’ when you can, instead, be liked and retweeted by the Kardashian Generation. Why get inducted into the National Film Registry when there’s instead an opening to sit in the first segment on Jimmy Kimmel Live? Why earn anything when not even getting ratioed gives the powers that be a cause to rethink a bad strategy?
In an era when crowdfunding has seen an emergence of new authors and auteurs willing to risk their own reputations and the capital they might earn, studios remain committed to the Jurassic age, shelling out buckets and buckets and buckets of cash for cinematic stinkery the likes of which used to be relegated to bargain bin straight-to-home-video trash or the bottom shelf space at the corner Blockbuster Video. In the final analysis, is there really all that much difference between 1989’s Cannibal Women In The Avocado Jungle Of Death and, say, 2023’s Indiana Jones And The Dial Of Destiny? Both feel, look, and sound like flatulence captured on film, probably earning the same number of fans, so …? I’m at a loss to see the difference any longer, nor is it worth pondering.
How, oh how, does any of this apply to Skyfall, you ask?
Indeed, Skyfall was an immensely successful film; and I’m not bringing any of this up to even suggest it or any of its companion pieces aren’t worth your time and effort. So far as I care, the Craig series had its respective highs and lows, what with the actor playing the globe-trotting spy more like a petulant child who’d (finally) (and thankfully) grown into a fully-realized man by the last one; and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that … well, except for the fact that the films never felt like Bond movies in the eyes of this reviewer. Instead, they were more like bloated Bourne adventures, where international intrigue really played second fiddle to Bond’s personal issues always getting in the way so that he could find his way around them to, ultimately, do what’s right for Queen and Country in the last reel. He’d rise to the occasion in spite of his differences … and, sigh, that’s just not Bond in my book.
Bond – much like Captain James T. Kirk or Indiana Jones or Buck Roger or Flash Gordon or Luke Skywalker or any other prototypical hero that emerged onscreen before Hollywood sank its hooks into social justice – served a master, and that master usually took the shape of an organization that – at its core – was dedicated to making the world-at-large a better place for everyone. Starfleet? Yeah, Kirk broke a rule here and there, but Starfleet represented the very brightest and the very best that was available in the galaxy. Same thing with the Rebel Alliance, which took a stand against the evil Galactic Empire. Back in the Bond pictures of my youth, 007 was saving the planet for everyone and not just doing the right thing for the highly-personal goal of allowing his wife and daughter to live out their days unmolested.
So … at the beginning of Skyfall, Craig-Bond essentially quits his job because M had to make an uncomfortable decision – one tied to the stability of global alliances – and the agent thought he knew better. Take note: Bond turned his back on his duty … the very essence for which he was created. And, yes, he instead whiles away his time rather petulantly indulging in male fantasies that, quite frankly, Sean Connery and Roger Moore and Pierce Brosnan were man enough to do ‘on the clock.’ That was their collective ‘screw you’ to the establishment: “you want me to risk my life, then I’m achieving this orgasm as a perk of the job.” Yes, he eventually comes to his senses when duty calls, but gone are the days when selfless individuals committed themselves to selfless acts all because civilization and honor and duty expected it of them and that was the purpose of their existence.
Instead, modern audiences were given a ‘hero’ who’s happy to be one when it suits his schedule, not ours.
Take a look at the present condition of what used to be major motion entertainment series worth following.
Not one but all of these franchises – once powerful juggernauts thought too big to fail – have been inundated by brokers more interested in representation, deconstruction, and emasculation than they are theatrical celebration. We’re all heroes, you know; and when we’re all heroes then no one is truly heroic any longer. We don’t serve organizations with noble goals; and – instead – we’ve become a collective of narcissists all driven by our (cough cough) individual truths. When everyone gets a trophy, then no one performs at the level of true distinctiveness; and we’ve sadly let such a flawed and fatal philosophy propagate into that magical space that once produced heroes worth our time, attention, study, and emulation.
Indeed, the sky has fallen … and – in its current state – it not only can’t get back up but, likely, never will.
-- EZ
I know, I know, I know: “why, it’s quintessential Bond – as are all the Daniel Craig flicks, right – so how could you possibly not love it?”
Characters matter. They always have, and they always will.
When storytellers tinker with characters, they run the risk of corroding the foundation that made these creations “quintessential” in the beginning. If not contextually corrected at some point in the course of the film or the franchise, then producers run the risk of not only alienating their core audience but also morphing the series into something it was perhaps never designed to be. With the great Ian Fleming long gone, there’s no way for us to know with any degree of certainty whether or not he’d be smitten with the latest and (cough cough) greatest iteration; but – as I often do – I’m going on record to suggest that those claiming to be ‘in the know’ really haven’t a clue what they’re talking about.
How can I say that? How can I suggest those studio executives paying themselves millions upon millions of dollars to (cough cough) twerk archetypal heroes and heroines into all-new thematic directions – imbuing them with contemporary social justice ideas, rainbow-colors, and pronoun choices – could possibly know better than you or I?
Well, for starters, they’re paying themselves up front for their efforts, as I said, which means that they’re not willing to let their transformations stand for themselves, build an audience, and reap the appropriately earned rewards as did so many who came before. Gone are the days when a George Lucas, a Steven Spielberg, a Gene Roddenberry, a David Lynch, a Martin Scorsese, a Rockne O’Bannon, or even a Charles Band emerged on the landscape and tried to do something authentically original; and in is the era of those who’d shamelessly steal Lucas’s, Spielberg’s, Roddenberry’s, Lynch’s, Scorsese’s, O’Bannon’s, or Band’s intellectual properties, deconstruct what made originally them tick, and realign the mechanisms to suit whatever ‘cause du jour’ needs some celebrity attention today. Ratings are out, and award wins are in. Profits are so ‘last century’ when you can, instead, be liked and retweeted by the Kardashian Generation. Why get inducted into the National Film Registry when there’s instead an opening to sit in the first segment on Jimmy Kimmel Live? Why earn anything when not even getting ratioed gives the powers that be a cause to rethink a bad strategy?
In an era when crowdfunding has seen an emergence of new authors and auteurs willing to risk their own reputations and the capital they might earn, studios remain committed to the Jurassic age, shelling out buckets and buckets and buckets of cash for cinematic stinkery the likes of which used to be relegated to bargain bin straight-to-home-video trash or the bottom shelf space at the corner Blockbuster Video. In the final analysis, is there really all that much difference between 1989’s Cannibal Women In The Avocado Jungle Of Death and, say, 2023’s Indiana Jones And The Dial Of Destiny? Both feel, look, and sound like flatulence captured on film, probably earning the same number of fans, so …? I’m at a loss to see the difference any longer, nor is it worth pondering.
How, oh how, does any of this apply to Skyfall, you ask?
Indeed, Skyfall was an immensely successful film; and I’m not bringing any of this up to even suggest it or any of its companion pieces aren’t worth your time and effort. So far as I care, the Craig series had its respective highs and lows, what with the actor playing the globe-trotting spy more like a petulant child who’d (finally) (and thankfully) grown into a fully-realized man by the last one; and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that … well, except for the fact that the films never felt like Bond movies in the eyes of this reviewer. Instead, they were more like bloated Bourne adventures, where international intrigue really played second fiddle to Bond’s personal issues always getting in the way so that he could find his way around them to, ultimately, do what’s right for Queen and Country in the last reel. He’d rise to the occasion in spite of his differences … and, sigh, that’s just not Bond in my book.
Bond – much like Captain James T. Kirk or Indiana Jones or Buck Roger or Flash Gordon or Luke Skywalker or any other prototypical hero that emerged onscreen before Hollywood sank its hooks into social justice – served a master, and that master usually took the shape of an organization that – at its core – was dedicated to making the world-at-large a better place for everyone. Starfleet? Yeah, Kirk broke a rule here and there, but Starfleet represented the very brightest and the very best that was available in the galaxy. Same thing with the Rebel Alliance, which took a stand against the evil Galactic Empire. Back in the Bond pictures of my youth, 007 was saving the planet for everyone and not just doing the right thing for the highly-personal goal of allowing his wife and daughter to live out their days unmolested.
So … at the beginning of Skyfall, Craig-Bond essentially quits his job because M had to make an uncomfortable decision – one tied to the stability of global alliances – and the agent thought he knew better. Take note: Bond turned his back on his duty … the very essence for which he was created. And, yes, he instead whiles away his time rather petulantly indulging in male fantasies that, quite frankly, Sean Connery and Roger Moore and Pierce Brosnan were man enough to do ‘on the clock.’ That was their collective ‘screw you’ to the establishment: “you want me to risk my life, then I’m achieving this orgasm as a perk of the job.” Yes, he eventually comes to his senses when duty calls, but gone are the days when selfless individuals committed themselves to selfless acts all because civilization and honor and duty expected it of them and that was the purpose of their existence.
Instead, modern audiences were given a ‘hero’ who’s happy to be one when it suits his schedule, not ours.
Take a look at the present condition of what used to be major motion entertainment series worth following.
- When did audiences last cheer for Marvel heroes to save the day? Instead, box office returns suggest that these days will remain dark, indeed.
- When did viewers last clamor for a galaxy far, far away? The Force is no longer strong with these ones; and, instead, The Acolyte’s showrunner Leslye Headland wants Jedis to get into the business of informing mankind about her lesbian upbringing.
- When was the human adventure of going boldly where no one had gone before worth taking? Last I looked, Captain Pike and his learned crew were all dancing and singing, and Captain Burnham wanted to cry over just about everything.
Not one but all of these franchises – once powerful juggernauts thought too big to fail – have been inundated by brokers more interested in representation, deconstruction, and emasculation than they are theatrical celebration. We’re all heroes, you know; and when we’re all heroes then no one is truly heroic any longer. We don’t serve organizations with noble goals; and – instead – we’ve become a collective of narcissists all driven by our (cough cough) individual truths. When everyone gets a trophy, then no one performs at the level of true distinctiveness; and we’ve sadly let such a flawed and fatal philosophy propagate into that magical space that once produced heroes worth our time, attention, study, and emulation.
Indeed, the sky has fallen … and – in its current state – it not only can’t get back up but, likely, never will.
-- EZ
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