Quantum of Solace | Review
Bond Turns into Bourne: Franchiseâ€™s sequel to Casino Royale loses all momentum
Weâ€™ve heard of eco-tourism before, but Bond 22 proposes that the next wave of branded fear will come via eco-terrorism, where the worldâ€™s bad apples are plotting to control the planetâ€™s water supply one South American riverbed at a time. Since there are hints of this factually occurring in a non-fictional world it is hard to dismiss the oddly titled Quantum of Solace as an exaggeration of the facts, but exaggeration seems to be commonplace in so many other areas in the franchiseâ€™s unique sequel. Coming across as a pointless, middle, filler film of a trilogy that on appearance has yet to be determined, Marc Forster works with this long cookie crumb trail premise that fails as a revenge film and as a qualified successor to Casino Royale/ Fans might feel more scorned than the long trail of victims in this substandard take on 007.
Occurring moments after Vesper Lyndâ€™s tragic end, Craigâ€™s Bond which was for the first time presented as a layered, complex, and more appealing character in the previous film, is presented as a fistful of cold with no emotion and a take no prisoners vendetta. It feels like after giving Bond an â€œidentityâ€ that they set the figure up as a â€œBourneâ€ caricature. Rife with very little backbone, Neil Purvis, Robert Wade and Paul Haggisâ€™ underwhelming screenplay is heavy in action elements but it lacks a narrative refinement with a dumb environmentalist terror plot, a secret agent infiltration that would hardly seem feasible in the secret agent world being the reasons why Bond receives a paycheck. Along with the main denouement which about as interesting as an episode of televisionâ€™s Amazing Race, Bondâ€™s personal rogue mission he undertakes are less interesting because of the extra baggage in an exotic-looking bond girl of a new archetype in Olga Kurylenkoâ€™s Camille. Her character could have been what Judi Denchâ€™s M character was in her yesteryear, but this ultimately becomes a throwaway character where audiences will care very little about her plights much like the film never makes Mathieu Amalricâ€™s antagonist character into a real threat.
After stripping the franchise from the elements that anchored it down as in gadget-overload, tacky one-liners, facile bed-partners and over-zealous villains, the film feels further depleted to the point where Forster doesnâ€™t even allow viewers to enjoy the film’s biggest selling point: the action sequences. Here the brawls by hand, land, wheels and sea are chopped into a rapid succession of quick edits â€“ youâ€™ll need to have guzzled a couple of Red Bulls to keep up, or even care. If the fist fights were scaled down and the plotline wasnâ€™t concerned in bringing the viewer into more locales, then the turmoil, whether interior or more demonstrative would have better expressed how the hero is haunted by the choices he made in his past. With Royale, we can think back fondly to five or six standout scenes from previous effort, apart from a night at the opera sequence that visually pans out, with Solace we find that the pathway of a man wanting revenge is tedious, not so calculated and not dark enough. This one goes off the cliff in more than one sense.