Comments on: The Living Daylights http://rentmovie.com/the-living-daylights-movie-review.html Rent Movie Review Reviews Movies Online Sat, 04 Feb 2012 04:08:38 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.0.5 by: A. Casalino "V^^^^^V" http://rentmovie.com/the-living-daylights-movie-review.html#comment-65 Sun, 31 Dec 2006 22:37:10 +0000 http://rentmovie.com/the-living-daylights-movie-review.html#comment-65 The taglines for this, the 15th Bond entry, promised- "The most dangerous Bond ever," and right there beyond the flippant fun that Roger Moore had brought, THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS came and made good on that vow. In a cool, totally decked-out Aston Martin, our favorite spy propels himself into this, the last of the series' Cold War intrigues (furthermore being the final title penned by its creator, Ian Fleming). And herein, the flavour of Fleming is found everywhere- Having been a child of 007's Roger Moore era, I had- on some seven different occasions during the course of his 14-year reign as Bond- looked forward with great anticipation to the very heights of fun and adventure. Moore, with his infectious charm and cheeky wit, was absolutely and completely entertaining as Bond. So I was naturally a little edgy when, in 1987, he retired, to pass the torch to another actor. I was in college, studying English literature when I heard Timothy Dalton would be the next James Bond. To me, this seemed an exceedingly interesting choice- for here was a classically trained Welsh actor, who at that time had been fairly unknown. Yet I already knew him, of course: not only had he made his impression in some of the Shakespeare plays I'd been studying, but this ardent, sensitive actor had actually won my heart with his perfect portrayals of two beloved Bronte heroes- (Charlotte's "Rochester" and Emily's "Heathcliff.") Needless to say, I just couldn't wait for this one~~ THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS is a spy thriller in every classical sense. From the get-go, it's exciting: the gun-barrel sequence, where John Barry's arrangement pulses more quickly to keep in tempo with the motion of a more youthful 007- the exhilarating pre-credits: where, after a parachute jump onto the Rock of Gibraltar, a double-0 agent gets murdered and Bond jumps onto the roof of a speeding jeep as it hurtles down the cliff, and requites the assassin in like. He then lands emergently onto a yacht- where, by sheer coincidence, the bikini-clad babe onboard has been lamenting her failure to find any "real men" anywhere. Bond grabs her phone to call headquarters, introducing himself with a brisk offhand, "Bond, James Bond". She offers him champagne and, as a consequence, he's an hour late reporting back........ After opening credits - Maurice Binder's flowing artwork gracing John Barry's title song- (a colorful pop number performed by Ah-Ha that won't ever let you forget it's the 80's), Bond reports to Bratislava for a seemingly unrelated assignment. Saunders, of section V, Vienna (Thomas Wheatley) has arranged the defection of a top KGB agent, Georgi Koskov (Jeroen Krabb). Bond is called in to kill the sniper assigned to assassinate Koskov if he should try to bolt. -This scene makes up the whole of Fleming's short story, wherein our hero turns over in his mind the conflicting implications of his work. Well, it's apparent that this James Bond is definitely a man who, though despising certain aspects of his profession, is quite capable of killing an enemy sniper in cold blood. The sniper, however, turns out being the lovely woman cellist that Bond had only moments before been admiring. And Bond, who follows instincts before orders, observes, "that girl didn't know one end of a rifle from the other," and instead of killing her, shoots the weapon from her hand. Nevertheless, the coup is a grand success. Hours later, in a safe house on the English countryside- (wherein Bond shows himself to be a connoisseur of good food: "The foie gras is excellent," and champagne: "The brand on the list was questionable, so I took the liberty of choosing something different.") -Koskov reveals a sinister plot by General Pushkin (John Rhys-Davies), the head of the KGB, to kill foreign spies- ("Smiert Spionen," Fleming's SMERSH term meaning death to spies). Bond is immediately a little skeptical of Koskov's story, and his suspicions are further enhanced when, shortly thereafter, Koskov gets snatched out of Britain by forces unknown -pulled off by henchman Necros (Andreas Wisniewski), disguised as the most menacing milkman one could ever imagine. For answers, Bond returns to Czechoslovakia to investigate that female "sniper," and discovers she's Kara Milovy (Maryam d'Abo), Koskov's girlfriend. He then poses as Koskov's friend in the hope that she'll be able to locate him. The inertia of this complex plot carries Bond further, through a number of beautiful locales in the world- London, Vienna, Tangier, Afghanistan, and New York. His mission involves drugs, deceit, diamonds, eccentric American arms dealer Brad Whitaker (Joe Don Baker), and the Afghan resistance, Mujahadin. There's action aplenty - highlights being a car chase in the Aston Martin fully armed, a ski chase downslope in a cello case, and a seat-gripping airplane ride I'd never in a million years want to ride! The late 80's had safe-sex everywhere afoot - even in Bond. Kara's certainly endearing as the Bond girl, but she doesn't hold the screen next to Bond so well as many of her predecessors. The villains are undeniably wonderful: a swarthy combination of the fearsome and the ludicrous. And Dalton's tough, gritty Bond is as close to Ian Fleming's creation that any actor has come- yet whether or not that's a good thing is a matter of infinite debate. The cinematic Bond had already been well established by then. Like Connery, though, Dalton has a certain cat-like grace, albeit minus the twinkle in his eye. And though he brings an intensity to the character that even Connery could not own, he never really does let loose - never hams it up or has the famous fun that every other Bond has had! But notwithstanding all that, I'm forever disposed to find him perfect. The taglines for this, the 15th Bond entry, promised- “The most dangerous Bond ever,” and right there beyond the flippant fun that Roger Moore had brought, THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS came and made good on that vow. In a cool, totally decked-out Aston Martin, our favorite spy propels himself into this, the last of the series’ Cold War intrigues (furthermore being the final title penned by its creator, Ian Fleming). And herein, the flavour of Fleming is found everywhere-
Having been a child of 007’s Roger Moore era, I had- on some seven different occasions during the course of his 14-year reign as Bond- looked forward with great anticipation to the very heights of fun and adventure. Moore, with his infectious charm and cheeky wit, was absolutely and completely entertaining as Bond. So I was naturally a little edgy when, in 1987, he retired, to pass the torch to another actor.

I was in college, studying English literature when I heard Timothy Dalton would be the next James Bond. To me, this seemed an exceedingly interesting choice- for here was a classically trained Welsh actor, who at that time had been fairly unknown. Yet I already knew him, of course: not only had he made his impression in some of the Shakespeare plays I’d been studying, but this ardent, sensitive actor had actually won my heart with his perfect portrayals of two beloved Bronte heroes- (Charlotte’s “Rochester” and Emily’s “Heathcliff.”) Needless to say, I just couldn’t wait for this one~~

THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS is a spy thriller in every classical sense. From the get-go, it’s exciting: the gun-barrel sequence, where John Barry’s arrangement pulses more quickly to keep in tempo with the motion of a more youthful 007- the exhilarating pre-credits: where, after a parachute jump onto the Rock of Gibraltar, a double-0 agent gets murdered and Bond jumps onto the roof of a speeding jeep as it hurtles down the cliff, and requites the assassin in like. He then lands emergently onto a yacht- where, by sheer coincidence, the bikini-clad babe onboard has been lamenting her failure to find any “real men” anywhere. Bond grabs her phone to call headquarters, introducing himself with a brisk offhand, “Bond, James Bond”. She offers him champagne and, as a consequence, he’s an hour late reporting back……..

After opening credits - Maurice Binder’s flowing artwork gracing John Barry’s title song- (a colorful pop number performed by Ah-Ha that won’t ever let you forget it’s the 80’s), Bond reports to Bratislava for a seemingly unrelated assignment. Saunders, of section V, Vienna (Thomas Wheatley) has arranged the defection of a top KGB agent, Georgi Koskov (Jeroen Krabb). Bond is called in to kill the sniper assigned to assassinate Koskov if he should try to bolt. -This scene makes up the whole of Fleming’s short story, wherein our hero turns over in his mind the conflicting implications of his work. Well, it’s apparent that this James Bond is definitely a man who, though despising certain aspects of his profession, is quite capable of killing an enemy sniper in cold blood. The sniper, however, turns out being the lovely woman cellist that Bond had only moments before been admiring. And Bond, who follows instincts before orders, observes, “that girl didn’t know one end of a rifle from the other,” and instead of killing her, shoots the weapon from her hand.

Nevertheless, the coup is a grand success. Hours later, in a safe house on the English countryside- (wherein Bond shows himself to be a connoisseur of good food: “The foie gras is excellent,” and champagne: “The brand on the list was questionable, so I took the liberty of choosing something different.”) -Koskov reveals a sinister plot by General Pushkin (John Rhys-Davies), the head of the KGB, to kill foreign spies- (”Smiert Spionen,” Fleming’s SMERSH term meaning death to spies). Bond is immediately a little skeptical of Koskov’s story, and his suspicions are further enhanced when, shortly thereafter, Koskov gets snatched out of Britain by forces unknown -pulled off by henchman Necros (Andreas Wisniewski), disguised as the most menacing milkman one could ever imagine. For answers, Bond returns to Czechoslovakia to investigate that female “sniper,” and discovers she’s Kara Milovy (Maryam d’Abo), Koskov’s girlfriend. He then poses as Koskov’s friend in the hope that she’ll be able to locate him.

The inertia of this complex plot carries Bond further, through a number of beautiful locales in the world- London, Vienna, Tangier, Afghanistan, and New York. His mission involves drugs, deceit, diamonds, eccentric American arms dealer Brad Whitaker (Joe Don Baker), and the Afghan resistance, Mujahadin. There’s action aplenty - highlights being a car chase in the Aston Martin fully armed, a ski chase downslope in a cello case, and a seat-gripping airplane ride I’d never in a million years want to ride!

The late 80’s had safe-sex everywhere afoot - even in Bond. Kara’s certainly endearing as the Bond girl, but she doesn’t hold the screen next to Bond so well as many of her predecessors. The villains are undeniably wonderful: a swarthy combination of the fearsome and the ludicrous. And Dalton’s tough, gritty Bond is as close to Ian Fleming’s creation that any actor has come- yet whether or not that’s a good thing is a matter of infinite debate. The cinematic Bond had already been well established by then. Like Connery, though, Dalton has a certain cat-like grace, albeit minus the twinkle in his eye. And though he brings an intensity to the character that even Connery could not own, he never really does let loose - never hams it up or has the famous fun that every other Bond has had! But notwithstanding all that, I’m forever disposed to find him perfect.

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