‘No Time to Die’
MGM
In an era when too many franchises discard (or threaten to discard) the less-successful sequels, I do admire that No Time to Die is absolutely, come hell or high water, a sequel to Spectre. To be fair, while critics (including myself) carped, the previous James Bond film grossed $200 million domestic and $881 million worldwide in late 2015, second only to Skyfall for the franchise. I might surmise casual moviegoers seemed to enjoy it just fine. When No Time to Die is trying to be “just the next James Bond movie” for its first hour, it’s quite good. But when it reverts course in acts two and three and tries to be an explicit sequel to Spectre, well, it’s hard to make a tasty omelet from rotten eggs. Moreover, it undercuts the franchise’s appeal as escapist entertainment.
Yes, it’s a better 007 film than Spectre, and yes, it’s a better series finale (relatively speaking) than The Rise of Skywalker. However, I might also argue the two years of release-date delays may have helped the film. In October 2021, critics and audiences may be so thirsty for water that they’ll drink the sand. I don’t entirely blame them/us. Had this film opened in late 2019 or early 2020, it would have paled in comparison to other series finales and other “take stock in our legacy” sequels that opened around that time. Today, the gorgeous “partially shot in and entirely formatted for IMAX” blockbuster is a reminder of what we arguably used to take for granted. The Cary Fukunaga-directed actioner looks spectacular, with gorgeous movie stars doing movie star things in lovely locales.
The 163-minute flick starts with essentially a triple-whammy pre-credits sequence. After a cryptic prologue, we come upon a retired James Bond (Daniel Craig) running for his life and presuming that Dr. Madeleine Swann (Léa Seydoux) set him up and is still working for S.P.E.C.T.R.E. The action is strong, but more impressive is the notion of Bond taken by surprise, unsure of his course of action and terrified for his life. Five years later, Bond has ditched Madeline and is living on his own when Felix Leiter (Jeffrey Wright) tracks him down and asks for his help with finding a kidnapped scientist. He reluctantly agrees only to end up working for the CIA and thus sportingly sparring with MI6 in the form of agent Nomi (Lashana Lynch) who took over the 007 designation after Bond chose love over duty.
This stuff is all darn fun, including a goofy romp with Ana de Armas playing Paloma, a cheerfully novice field agent who reveals zero compulsion about killing bad guys. It’s an enjoyable riff on the “strong female character” cliché, while Billy Magnussen plays Leiter’s cohort, a gee-whiz “political appointee” who ironically represents “white guys of privilege failing upward.” Where the plot goes from there, I will not say. However, eventually (and almost tangentially), we meet up with the disfigured and “movie bad-guy creepy” Safron (Rami Malek). Malek has so little to say or do that you might actually be relieved when Christoph Waltz’s Blofeld returns in the Hannibal Lecter role. As someone who likes Rami’s off-kilter sensibilities, I must sadly report that this underwritten and almost incidental role feels entirely left on the cutting room floor.
The big evil plot eventually reveals itself, and I enjoyed Ralph Fiennes’s M being tormented by a seemingly valid peacekeeping tool being used to diabolical ends. But the plan is never really spelled out beyond “lotta people gonna die,” which means the metaphorical doomsday clock carries little weight. The film offers no contextual insight into even the pre-Covid political landscape. I didn’t necessarily expect James Bond to go after a corrupt American government leader aligning himself with diabolical overseas tyrants, but this film acts as if the world hasn’t changed since Skyfall. Instead, we get bogged down with micro-drama concerning Bond’s doomed romance with Dr. Swann. That proves to be a fatal problem since his arbitrary courtship with Madeleine in Spectre was so unconvincing it made me question my adoration of Casino Royale.
That Daniel Craig looks old enough to be Seydoux’s father is even more of a problem here than it was in Spectre. That Malek is presented as seemingly being older than he looks doesn’t help, although Ben Whishaw’s Q.(I.L.F.) being officially denoted as gay prevents audiences from shipping Madeleine with the age-appropriate tech genius. The film’s final third both wanders aimlessly into endless arbitrary run-and-shoot action while trying to make Bond into something he isn’t and frankly never needed to be. No, that’s not to say he’s magically progressive, although Bond as presented was never more than politely amused at changing norms. If anything, the film overcompensates to assure fans that James Bond is the “real 007.” However, the plot and character beats seem once-again determined to place the franchise in a worldbuilding mythology franchise sandbox.
All of this would be less of an issue if the action and spectacle were of a sharper breed. Alas, save for the pre-credit sequence and the fun first-act romp in Cuba (everyone is going to claim to want a Paloma spin-off), this feels closer in spirit to Spectre than Skyfall or even the rough-and-tumble Quantum of Solace set pieces. All is not lost, as Craig is again relishing the chance to give the kind of full-bodied “acting performance” that Pierce Brosnan only got to hint at. I still wish his platonic friendship with Naomie Harris’ Moneypenny got more room to breathe. While not every franchise has to evolve into a story about surrogate families, there is lost potential in terms of Q, Moneypenny and even M having more than just a professional relationship to their proverbial star quarterback.
As the fifth and final entry of the Craig era, there is more suspense and tension than usual in terms of characters being in harm’s way. Moreover, as just one 007 movie amid 25 previous films, with the presumption that more will still follow with a new actor (with the first new film ideally helmed by Martin Campbell), No Time to Die is a disappointment but not a soul-killing whiff akin to Spectre. I was hoping No Time to Die would give Daniel Craig a noble swan song, but it’ll have to settle for merely being better than Diamonds Are Forever, A View to A Kill and Die Another Day. Here’s hoping it represents an end to 26 years of “Is Bond still relevant?” navel gazing. The answer has been “Yes!” since GoldenEye.
The James Bond series has thrived for decades, both when it was the only game in town and when it was but one big action blockbuster franchise, partially by not trying to be something it wasn’t. It doesn’t have to apologize for changing social mores, merely try to adapt to them, and it doesn’t have to be the next MCU or the next Fast Saga. I was optimistic after Spectre precisely because the franchise has the luxury of a clean slate every time out. Ironically, No Time to Die stumbles hardest by not taking advantage of that freedom and instead trying to make lemonade out of lemons. I admire the effort, even if it doesn’t work. James Bond *will* be back, and it just needs to have a little faith and confidence in its continued relevance.
