Daniel Craig gives Casino Royale the danger and emotional weight its harder approach needs. Martin Campbell makes the action count, and Eva Green gives Bond someone worth listening to; only a protracted final stretch weakens our enthusiasm.
Casino Royale asks us to take James Bond seriously, which can be an awkward request from a film about a man playing cards under pressure. Martin Campbell earns it by putting Daniel Craig’s physical menace and impatience at the centre of the film. This Bond is forceful enough to get things done and arrogant enough to make us worry about his judgement. We recommend it warmly, with a reservation about how long it takes to finish. Craig makes the toughness convincing without making the man infallible.
The building-site chase is an early demonstration of that approach. We were tense watching it, because Craig’s aggression suggests a man who might get himself hurt through sheer impatience. Campbell uses the architecture to give the pursuit problems to solve, while Phil Meheux’s photography makes the space readable enough for the physical effort to matter. Stuart Baird’s cutting keeps the sequence moving without reducing it to disconnected impacts. We can follow the pursuit and learn something about Bond at the same time.
Peter Lamont’s production design gives the action surroundings that have a practical use. Buildings supply obstacles, and Campbell pays attention to how people move through them. David Arnold’s forceful score suits Craig’s rough performance, although the action scarcely needs further encouragement. The greater suspense comes when the film puts its faith in the high-stakes card game. There is pleasure in discovering that it can hold our attention just as firmly when its leading man sits down.
Eva Green is just as important when the action pauses. As Vesper Lynd, she challenges Bond without treating every exchange as an invitation to admire him, and Craig allows some uncertainty into his performance in response. Adapting Ian Fleming’s novel, Neal Purvis, Robert Wade and Paul Haggis give the pair dialogue sharp enough to make their conversations worth waiting for. Green makes the prospect of Bond caring about somebody persuasive, despite all his arrogance. We begin to care about him because somebody is prepared to question his opinion of himself.
The weakness is the length. At 144 minutes, Casino Royale gives its final stretch more space than the material needs, and Baird’s earlier control of pace becomes less evident. The action grows busier just when the film would benefit from trusting the people in it. This is a limited complaint, but an important one: Campbell has made the quieter exchanges engaging enough that more commotion can feel like an interruption.
For a Bond film, cutting back on gadgets and smirking jokes is a useful start, but Craig is what makes the change worthwhile. He can be arrogant, anxious and dangerous without becoming a different person whenever the scene changes. Campbell retains enough wit to make the seriousness enjoyable, and enough faith in his actors to let us notice what the violence costs them. See it for Craig and Green, and allow Campbell a little more time than he needs.
