Diary of an up and coming sociopath

Yesterday we went to see Casino Royale and it was fucking excellent. I wasn’t going to bother for many reasons. I’ve never watched a Bond movie at the cinema, and I totally lost interest during the Brosnan years. I don’t even like action films that much, I find them incredibly tedious sometimes and with a running time approaching 2 and a half hours, I wasn’t sure if I could be motivated. After he went to see it, Josh recommended it highly (We have vastly different tastes in certain areas, but I find I can rely on his opinion of a film, Evolution and Lord of the Rings not withstanding) so when Rachel and Seb suggested we go, I felt as if fate was dealing me another hand (ah, thematic metaphor. Am I not a master of writingness?)

Turns out, I’m glad I went, because it’s probably the best (non-comics) action film that I’ve seen in like 5 years. It scores mega points for ending just as I felt my tolerance for the film start to wane slightly. I knew it was on to a winner when I realised I’d been watching poker for 20 minutes and I was still completely glued to the screen. I can’t really say anything about the film, or Daniel Craig, that hasn’t been said anywhere else by about a million people more qualified than I, but it’s almost certainly the best Bond film ever, and Craig is probably the best Bond ever. It’s got some hilarious moments in but doesn’t resort to the cheesy dialogue that previous films have (let’s admit it. The character was called “Christmas” in that one film for no other reason than to get the ‘joke’ in) there’re no stupid gadgets (well, not many, but he does rely on his SONY ERICSON phone a lot) and best of all, no Halle Berry. Best of all, he starts the film by shooting up an Embassy, which you know takes balls. Balls that are later subjected to some serious torture, and I mean that literally. Jesus christ, I feel winded just thinking about it. If any woman ever thought childbirth was a raw deal, they only have to hear those screams to see that it’s not all sunshine and lollipops when you keep your gonads on the outside.

Anyway, watching Bond in action has made me realise I should probably become a secret agent. My name is already two-thirds correct which is way more than most. I don’t think there was anything in the film that I wouldn’t be able to do, anyway, though I’m not so keen on the tuxedo so I’ll probably just keep it as T-Shirt and Jeans, which it’d be easier to run in anyway. Clearly I am a genius.