Agent 007, for a change, gets a "real" director, Michael Apted, which is to say a director with some creditable credits to his name, Coal Miner's Daughter, Gorky Park, the documentary 28 Up. But what's the use when he's still to be held to a formula requirement like the ever more elaborate Pre-Credits Sequence? (This one starts in Bilbao, with a shootout and a couple of extraneous shots of the Gehry-designed art museum to appease the local Board of Tourism, moves to London for some standard banter with Miss Moneypenny and "M" and an interminable chase in a submersible speedboat-cum-sportscar, and lasts a quarter of an hour altogether.) What's the use, again, when the wounded Bond is able to get himself back on active duty by simply -- and easily -- seducing the comely Dr. Warmflash? (Titter titter.) What's the use when Bond always has at hand an inflatable bomb shelter to protect him in the midst of an avalanche, or a push-button rocket launcher hidden in his car to repel a buzzsaw-wielding helicopter? What's the use when he must search his brains to sprinkle his dialogue with lame quips and double-entendres? (To a gold-toothed torpedo: "I see you put your money where your mouth is.") What's the use when Denise Richards can get herself cast as a nuclear physicist? The Bond series is a runaway train, and Apted can do no more than drag his heel alongside the track. With Pierce Brosnan, Sophie Marceau, Robert Carlyle, and Judi Dench. (1999) — Duncan Shepherd
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