I sure could use a “Quantum of Solace”
There aren’t enough three measures of Gordon’s, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet, and a large, thin slice of lemon peel martinis to fill the void. As you may have heard, the man every woman wants and every man wants to be won’t be around to inspire any new fantasies for awhile. Daniel Craig/James Bond’s double-O status has been suspended, and no one can say for how long. It’s like hearing Steve McQueen died all over again.
I have to admit, I’m surprised at how the news has spread. There isn’t an outlet out there that hasn’t relayed the delayed state of progression on Bond 23. I’m only surprised at the spread though, not the interest. Where the hell are we going to turn for wish fulfillment and aspirational inspiration (sorry, I’ve been reading that biography of Henry Luce)? We NEED Daniel Craig/James Bond. It’s not just a matter of waiting. Who knows how many more movies Daniel Craig will be in for? I love all of the Bonds in different ways and for different things- Connery owned the room, Lazenby was blithe, Moore was hilarious, Dalton was cold and efficient, Brosnan was charming, and Craig is a wily cad that can handle any situation. And of course all of this comes out when “Sex in the City 2-Fucking Around in the Desert” is just ramping up its advertising to cackle at our misfortune. I’m so tired of seeing trailers of guys folding laundry and chicks falling down. I don’t want to see that crap.
Let us not give in to total despair. This is the situation through more cynical eyes: a press release, from producers who only produce a franchise that represents one movie every two years if we’re lucky, was sent out to let everyone know that a newly reinvigorated franchise (whose last two movies have made a combined total of $1.2 billion worldwide) cannot continue with what is sure to be a wildly successful third installment because of investment torpor at the studio that releases the franchise. This isn’t the producers performing their solemn duty to let us all know that the world shall be bereft of it’s favorite male ideal; this is a tantalizing reminder of the dowry that goes with the bride (i.e. MGM). So ladies find yourself a Daniel Craig popsicle to tide you over, guys, freeze the glasses and prime the DVD player, because James Bond is getting the job done as we speak in the mind of some timid investor, and he doesn’t give a fuck about shoes.