Running time: 128 minutes
Starring: Pierce Brosnan, Sophie Marceau, Robert Carlyle, Denise Richards, Robbie Coltrane, Judi Dench
Rating 8 out of 10
Cinema, frankly, was invented with the express purpose of playing 007 movies - where else on the silver screen is there such a perfect combo of girls, guns and gadgets, all capped by the coolest secret agent ever to step into a tailored tux?Returning as Her Majesty's loyal terrier for the third time, Pierce Brosnan finds himself assigned to bodyguard Elektra King (Sophie Marceau), imperilled daughter of murdered billionaire oil magnate Sir Robert King (David Calder).
King has just gone up with a booby-trapped briefcase full of stolen cash retrieved from a Swiss bank in Spain, and after a breakneck pursuit along the Thames, MI6 becomes convinced it's the work of international terrorist Renard (Robert Carlyle).
Despatched earlier by M (Judi Dench), 009 succeeded only in lodging a bullet in Renard's brain - short-circuiting his nervous system and rendering him impervious to pain - but allowing him to continue a dastardly scheme to destabilize the entire global economy.
Sounds like a job for Bond, James Bond. Except that the British superspy is nursing a seriously knackered shoulder, and is already developing some rather non-professional feelings towards Elektra. Well, you would, wouldn't you?
From the ridiculously enjoyable opening sequence - featuring 007's unorthodox monetary withdrawal and white-water thrills past the Millennium Dome - it's clear this Bond movie has it all.
Fabulous locations, overblown stunts and snappy pay-offs, all to the tune of a thumping soundtrack, with Brosnan a suave and assured centrepiece, bolstered solidly by returning faves like Samantha Bond's Moneypenny and Robbie Coltrane's Valentin Zukovsky.
Okay, so Denise Richards as, ahem, nuclear physicist Dr Christmas Jones does little more than squeeze into tiny vest tops and become the butt of a few tasty gags, and as Q's young assistant, John Cleese seems slightly surplus comic relief.
And Sophie Marceau is sheer, breath-taking quality: sexy, sophisticated, classy, and so much more than just a pretty bauble for Pierce to bounce innuendos off - the sort of female lead, in fact, that the Goldeneye girls gave us leave to expect and which we didn't get in Tomorrow Never Dies.
When Brosnan made such a fine fist of his inaugural outing for MI6 - and, in reinvigorating a franchise once feared dead and buried, pulled off an operation that might more appropriately have gone to the Mission: Impossible team - it was this reviewer's opinion that the best Bond yet had arrived.
Yes, better than Sean Connery. The story-telling and construction flaws of Tomorrow Never Dies rather undermined the position, but this latest instalment puts the issue beyond doubt.
No longer point of view but categorical fact: Brosnan is the ultimate Bond. Smooth, sexy, witty where necessary, and hard. If you know what we mean.
Welcome back, James - keep keeping the British end up.
