Casino Royale

To watch this movie, one must understand something that many appeared to have missed. Chiefly, the mish-mashed, ridiculous, over-blown insanity of it is the entire point. It is this that it aims for, and this that it achieves. It is not really a story, so much as every conceivable joke that could be thought of, thrown into an editing studio and spat out the other end as gold. This movie will challenge many who cannot break-out of the mold of needing a firm plot and some commonsense, but in this regard it is much like a comedic version of a David Lynch film, and I enjoyed Twin Peaks: The Movie even if I still don't get it.

So watch this for the crackling one-liners, ridiculously pretty women, lurid sets and the most completely unself-conscious approach to making a comedy that I have ever seen. It goes beyond funny, and becomes a matter of being shocked into admiration for the sheer silliness of it all. And the fun of trying to explain it to someone afterwards is immeasurable.

"So then the flying-saucer kidnaps Mata Hari and James Bond's love-child, and then James Bond who's David Niven and James Bond who's Woody Allen face-off, and meanwhile James Bond is being tortured with insane hallucinations and someone has snuck into his delusions with a machine-gun bagpipe and through all this Deborah Kerr was a French Scotswoman!"

Much less a true story than very funny surrealist art. Like Salvidor Dali meets The Pythons, but odder. And lots of great satire and stuff, too. See it. Now. If only to broaden your horizons.

It helps if you're able to live in Kierkegaard's unfolding moment if you want to enjoy this movie. Or in Fritz Perl's "here and now", to switch hoaxes in midstream.

It's pointless to compare "Casino Royale" to any of the other "straight" Bond films. There is no "plot" worthy of the name. The five disparate directors saw to that, to the extent that the writers didn't. It's a succession of gags, puns, and visual effects taking place in spectacularly designed settings, spoofs of German expressionism, psychedelic imagery, and all that. Some of the gags miss the mark. A British soldier who has been practicing karate chops on wooden boards comes to a stiff attention when his superior approaches and snaps a quivering Brit-style salute, knocking himself out with his own hand. Ha ha.

Such silliness abounds and at times the movie drags a bit, but there is always another joke around the corner. Orson Welles, with his fat cigar at the card table, performing magic tricks with flags and scarves amid flashing lights while everyone whistles and applauds. Peter Sellers trying on different costumes for Ursula Andress, including one of a gruff old general, "There's nothing wrong with the British Ahmy -- that a damned good swim won't cure."

You really can't look for logic in all of this. Listen to the score and watch the performers squeeze the most possible laughs out of their situations. Too bad the movie loses steam at the end so that what should be a climactic pulling together of all the accumulated lines of narrative and jokes is, instead, just plain silly -- clapping seals, parachuting Indians. Ridiculous, but not funny. Writers who have trouble ending absurd movies like this seem to think that a few minutes of chaotic slapstick will serve. "What's New, Pussycat" had the same problem, with people running frantically from room to room in a hotel, a Feydeau farce without laughs. "Sex and the Single Girl" thrust everybody into vehicles and sent them racing down a California freeway with nothing to say. Just about all of "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World" was an attempt to substitute destruction and speed for wit.

I saw this movie when it was released and laughed from beginning to end. I don't find it quite so funny now, (I don't find ANYTHING quite so funny anymore) but I watch it when I can. It's an opportunity to live in the unfolding moment.

With the baccarat winnings of Le Chiffre giving them access to a new funding stream, SMERSH is on the rise and only one man can stop them – James Bond. But not THAT James Bond, he is only a mere playboy with gadgets, the real Bond retired years ago but now finds himself approached to come out of retirement to counter the new threat. With his pure lifestyle and impeccable reputation, SMERSH send an array of lovely ladies after him to sully his image or, if that fails, kill him. Things get more confusing as many other agents (also called James Bond) get involved!

With only the number of uncredited writers outweighing the number of directors, this film screams 'mishmash' and indeed, it transpires, that that's exactly what it is – a silly mess which amazingly manages to be less than the sum of its parts. To waste any time here discussing the plot would be to give the film credit that it simply doesn't deserve – the makers owned the rights to the actual novel and could have made a 'real' film but instead the outcome is a film that is more like a load of poorly conceived individual scenes. Some of these have funny moments but generally they are silly beyond being funny and are just daft for the sake of it. The design, 'humour', directing and script is all very 1960's and I do not mean this as a compliment in this case.

The cast list makes this film even more annoying – some of the funniest men alive are in this film but yet they are given nothing to work with whatsoever. Niven is amusing at times but he does no more than play his usual personae. Sellers is a comic legend but this film has him doing a bad Bond spoof and he struggles even when allowed to ad lib. Allen is an unusual find here and in fairness he is actually funny because he brings his stand up routine to the role and seems to just be having a laugh as he goes.

Even to waste these three actors is a crime, but when you consider that the film also has Orson Welles, Ursula Andrews, Deborah Kerr, William Holden, John Huston, George Raft, Jacqueline Bisset, Derek Nimmo, Ronnie Corbett, Bernard Cribbins, Peter O'Toole, Stirling Moss, David Prowse, Burt Kwouk, John Le Mesurier and a few others then you have to wonder how so many people were fooled into appearing in this. I can only imagine how good it seemed at the development stage ('Bond but with laughs') but I doubt if any of those involved are actually proud to have this on their cv.

Overall this is a pretty awful film but I suppose you may get a few laughs out of it if you can buy into the silly tone but I'm afraid I wasn't even able to get close to the mind state needed to enjoy this. The laughs come occasionally but they are too rare and the plot and actual script are not big and not clever. The end product – a silly, self-indulgent mess of a film that is actually very hard to work though and not worth the handful of laughs that you might actually have.

What a mess of the royal proportions - such a great cast (Peter Sellers, David Niven, Orson Welles, Woody Allen, Ursula Andress, Deborah Kerr, and Jean-Paul Belmondo), the James Bond's story, plenty of beautiful (and I mean it) girls, the music by Burt Bacharach, most famous sets - but the movie is almost totally unwatchable. It started funny enough - at Sir James Bond's (David Niven) home where he was approached by four international agents that forced him to come out of retirement and head up the operation against the evil organization SMERSH. His mission is to destroy Topple LeChiffre (Orson Welles} at the baccarat tables where he never loses and wins a lot of money to supply SMERSH. Then, the movie becomes silly, stupid, pointless, and (what is the worst) not funny. Only Woody Allen, (as Bond's incompetent nephew, Jimmy Bond) brilliant as usual has appeared in two scenes and made them silly and hilarious. I think that "Casino Royale" (the way it was made) illustrates the fact that bigger is not always better - overlong and overblown, written and directed by five or more writers and directors, it brings to mind an old saying, "Too many cooks spoil the broth".

OT: the abbreviation SMERSH really existed during the WWII. It means "Death to the Spies" in Russian.

Eon Production's DR. NO was a great hit in the early 1960s, and Eon quickly snapped up the rights to the rest of Ian Flemming's novels about super spy James Bond--except for the CASINO ROYALE, which had already been purchased earlier by CBS for a 1950s television adaptation. When the property wound up at Columbia Pictures, they decided to create the satire to end all satires with a host of writers, five famous directors, and an all-star cast led by Peter Sellers. Unfortunately, Sellers' ego reached critical mass during the production and he was fired mid-way into filming--and suddenly roles that were originally envisioned as cameos had to be expanded to finish the project. The result is one of the most bizarre films imaginable.

The story, such as it is, finds James Bond (David Niven) called out of retirement to deal with the sudden disappearance of secret agents all over the world. In order to confuse the unknown enemy, Sir James orders ALL secret agents to use the name James Bond--and before you can blink there are Bonds aplenty running wild all over the globe. Eventually all the Bonds, including (through the magic of editing) Peter Sellers, wind up at Casino Royale, where they confront the evil agents of SMERSH and a diabolical mad man with a plot to rule the world.

The plot is absolute chaos, but that doesn't prevent the film from being a lot of fun to watch. The entire cast runs wild with some marvelous over-the-top performances, and whenever the writers can jam in a gag or a weird plot turn they do precisely that: Bond (Niven) is attacked by decoy ducks; counter-agent Mimi (Deborah Kerr) swings from a drain pipe; Bond's daughter by Mata Hari (Joanna Pettet) is kidnapped by a UFO; double agent Vesper (Ursula Andress) hides bodies in the deep freeze. And that's just for starters.

At one point Niven blows up the locked door of a psychedelically decorated dudgeon with lysergic acid--better know as LSD--and in a way this is indicative of the entire film, which was made at the height of the 1960s ultra-mod movement: the whole thing has the feel of a blow-out acid trip, right down to flashing multicolored lights and swinging 60s fashions. It is visually arresting, to say the least. And then there is that famous Burt Bacharach score, easily one of the best of the decade, sporting Herp Albert on the main theme and Dusty Springfield's legendary performance of "The Look of Love." On the whole, the film is one of the most entertaining hodgepodges of talent and weirdness I've ever encountered, and it never fails to amuse. I've found that viewers tend to have extremely different reactions to this film--they either love it or hate it, so you may want to rent this one first. But it's one of my favorite guilty pleasures, and I recommend it for fans of the unexpectedly odd.

Gary F. Taylor, aka GFT, Amazon Reviewer