Almost every critic agrees that Casino Royale is a mess, and most blame the same thing: too many directors, too many writers, and a cast of stars each pulling in a different direction. Overstuffed, disorganised and incoherent are the words that recur, and even the reviews that enjoy the film concede that nothing in it holds together. Praise lands in the margins: Burt Bacharach’s score, the psychedelic sets, and the turns from Peter Sellers, Orson Welles and Woody Allen are picked out again and again.
The disagreement is over whether the chaos is a fault or the point, and the spread is wide. The New Yorker finds the film funny in spite of itself, Empire rates it above most of the official Bond films, and Collider recommends it as a fever dream of sixties excess. The harshest verdicts run the other way: Film Comment and Den of Geek call it unfunny and barely watchable, and RogerEbert.com counts it among the most excessive films ever made. The two lowest scores are the most recent.
