Call me crazy…butCASINO ROYALE could be the greatest movie ever. Well, it certainly is the best Bond film at least.
Before you exit out of my blog and never read it again, just let me explain.
There are a bunch of reasons we watch movies- for joy, entertainment, inspiration, sorrow, love, hatred, etc. And what CASINO ROYALE is for me is ESCAPISM in its finest form. I mean, every one of the 1000 times I’ve watched this masterpiece, I drool on myself in sheer awe of Bond’s swag as well as cry at the end because I will never be that cool.
I simply want to be Bond when he is hunking it up in the Bahamas, winning Astons via poker and whatnot. Or when he is saving a jumbo jet from exploding. Or when he shuts down the poker game for a second when Vesper *swoon* struts in voluptuously and kisses him…You get the point.
So let’s condense and organize these thoughts a little bit into some easily-understandable reasons why I feel the need to make this post (I wrote 2 more points about the flawless costumes and the plot but decided to scrap those for length purposes…maybe there will be a part 2, who knows).
1. The script is absolutely marvelous
Let’s look at an example:
Such banter!
I sadly haven’t yet had the chance to read Ian Fleming’s novel, so I don’t know how much of the dialogue was directly taken from the text, but the writing really shines in the scenes between Bond and Vesper, in particular their first meeting. The writers and director Martin Campbell realize that she is the one woman that Bond ever truly falls in love with. She has a tremendous impact on his life and ultimately shapes him into the Bond that we all know, so thankfully her dialogue is equally beautiful, sophisticated, clever, mysterious, and complex. The dialogue in this scene stands out from the rest of the script, but not in a negative way. It reads and sounds like the great film noir CASINO ROYALE was meant to be.
I don’t want this to become a drudge, so let’s keep this moving.
Vesper Lynd: “If the only thing left of you was your smile and your little finger, you’d still be more of a man than anyone I’ve ever known.”
Bond: “That’s because you know what I can do with my little finger …”
(If you want to do further research on the script, clickHEREfor the whole thing)
2. Bond isn’t a big doofus!!
Daniel Craig’s Bond is a vulnerable, #emotional, and rugged character who starkly contrasts with Connery’s silly playboy Bond (no beef tho). This newest Bond is forced to use his wits throughout the movie, especially in the grand Texas Hold’Em match at the end, in order to complete the mission. He lost once to the twitchy Le Chiffre and required the help of the CIA bro, Felix, disproving an invincibility previously associated with the character.We see bitterness surface, we even see Bond forming real emotional attachments. And when his love interest, Vesper, is killed after her heart-wrenching betrayal, his line: “The job’s done and the bitch is dead”, says everything that needs saying. Damn, James. (This all being said, he can still charm ladies’ pants off when need be.)
3. The theme of “trust”
Finally, let’s talk about the theme of the movie: trust. CASINO ROYALE was written by Ian Fleming when he was just about to get married in the Bahamas and was reflecting on the Bohemian bachelor life he was leaving behind. The story he wrote is Bond doing the same thing. Bond falls in love with Vesper and decides to leave MI6 to spend his years happily with her. This story requires us to fall in love with Vesper the same way Bond does or else the twenty minutes where the two characters float around in Venice would be a momentum killer. Thankfully, the characters are handled well and one feels like one could see a whole movie of Bond and Vesper’s travels and enjoy it thoroughly.
Of course, this can’t last forever and Bond tragically has everything he cares about torn from him. His trust is betrayed in the worst way imaginable. Bond becomes a cold-hearted bastard thus launching him into a career filled with misogyny and one-night stands with only the most exotically beautiful women on the planet. I literally burst out in tears every time I watch the drowning scene. Shortly after Vesper’s death, M calls Bond and asks, “You don’t trust anyone anymore, do you Bond?” He replies, “No.”
“Then you’ve learned your lesson.”
Editors Note: I don’t acknowledge Spectre ever happened.
This cartoon that I stumbled upon while surfing the ‘net made me think: Why is a lack of emotion sometimes deemed COOL??
I may have opened a can of worms with this vibe felt, but once I noticed it, I can’t stop seeing evidence! The word ‘cool’ itself is associated with chillness/nonchalantness, but why is this the standard for cutting-edge swagger? It may be rooted in snobbishness, radiating sentiments that one is constantly unimpressed with the mundane world around them, but just typing that seems lame. Who are the gatekeepers of cool in 2016 London (as well as the world) spreading this vibe?
EXHIBIT A: FASHUN
Taken from a Selfridges campaign, this Rick Owens ensemble looks like something a couple would wear to a funeral in some cold, dark dystopian future universe. Nevertheless, dudes like A$AP Rocky love rocking this STREET GOTH flow, and thus Londoners pick it up.
EXHIBIT 2: MUZIK
Ever since hitting the scene with lo-fi VCR-filmed music videos accompanying tracks from his Unknown Death 2002 mixtape, Swedish teen rapper Young Lean and his SAD BOYS crew have risen to cultural prominence. In 2013, Fact even published an article titled “Rise of the Sad Boys: from Kompakt to Yung Lean, a history of how electronic musicians have worn their sadness on their sleeves”, which claimed that “[Yung Lean]’s mixtape Unknown Death 2002 is the epitome of sad rap”.
SEMI-CONCLUSIONS
This vibe is immensely dense and hard to fully understand. I doubt any many in the history of this beautiful country has ever fully fathomed it. This being said, I do believe the urban-cool vibe is a bit elitist and looks down upon others who won’t conform to their mold. Certain fashion and music trends even perpetuate this.
But #SadStyle isn’t necessarily a bad thing if it’s genuine. I love tons of music deemed emotional or dark or sad such as Radiohead or James Blake. It can be a refuge as one occasionally seemingly gets swallowed by the madness of this wild world!
Happiness shouldn’t be stomped out in London but sadness shouldn’t be ridiculed– HUMANS ARE EMOTIONAL CREATURES!
Earlier this week, I took the advice of writer John Betjeman to “look up”. I put aside the sprawling wires of the circuit-like Underground on Monday afternoon in order to get a lay of the land via a famous London double-decker bus. From my seat on the 10 Bus’s top level, I jotted down notes of my trip that spanned from Hammersmith, to Hyde Park, beyond Oxford Street, and ultimately to King’s Cross station. The following record is a reflection of my experiences.
skrt skrt skrt
16:54 PM – Hammersmith Station
Following my afternoon Economics class letting out, I jetted straight to Waitrose to pick up a lukewarm to-go chicken tikka masala meal and hopped on the District line to Hammersmith Station. Hammersmith marked the takeoff point of my journey, the commencement spot of an hour-long adventure spanning about ten miles and 33 stops. Within a few minutes of waiting, my chariot, the 10 bus, swung around the corner and pulled up next to me. I proceeded to tap my Oyster card on the scanner and climbed up to the second floor. After all, the best way to look up is to look down from above.
At first I thought I was alone up top with my Indian cuisine and trusty Moleskine, however, I quickly noticed a hooded man in the very back seat scowling at me with a murderous look. To my relief, this terrifying man/creature scurried off at the next stop and I lived to tell this tale.
16:55 PM – Brook Green
The cherry red double-decker rolled past Latymer Court as we picked up a few folks huddled under the bus stop’s awning at Brook Green. Three of the incoming rain-sprinkled bus riders decided to join the party on the second floor and quickly ended my loneliness. Two fairly old middle eastern men decided to cop two of the front row seats, while a hefty British kid about my age opted to sit across the aisle from me in the middle. The British kid, upon plopping down on his purple seat, pulled out a brown McDonalds sack and started scarfing down a large fry.
The road we were on continued to be aligned with the London regulars- Pret, Café Nero, Sainsbury’s- so nothing was too noteworthy to report at the moment.
The rain soon picked up and the melancholy, muggy version of London began to take form. I thought of Simon Kushner’s prologue in the book LONDONERS. Kushner, who happily escaped from London to South Africa, griped about the depressing and toxic atmosphere of the city: “London is actually a beautiful place when the weather’s good; the mood is lighter and everybody’s smiling. But for the other 350 days a year, it’s miserable. You’re standing there waiting for the bus in the rain…” But even as I stood in the rain to catch the bus, like the others on my trip, I couldn’t describe the experience as “miserable”. The dude really needs to read this post.
17:00 PM – Warwick Gardens
By this point, my fast food friend had completely demolished his fry supply and moved onto wolfing down a series of McChickens with reckless abandon. He had gone through two by the time we passed the Hilton Olympia at the Holland Road stop. Next, we pulled up to Warwick Gardens. As I glanced out my window to the right, I examined a row of “posh” flats at St. Mary Abbots Court. A did a quick search on my phone about listings in this area and learned, as you can imagine, that these flats are quite pricy- £1,350,000 for a two bedroom, two reception room apartment.
Because of air currents or something like that, palm trees exist here
However, as the bus continued down Kensington High Street, I became transfixed on an even more head-scratching phenomenon: London PALM TREES. I’ve confusingly seen them throughout the city and have been meaning to look into whether they were real or not. Another Google search led me to The Palm Centre, a Richmond-based nursery that supplies Londoners with exotic plants from around the world. While I’m no horticulture expert, the website didn’t list many issues with planting one of their 24 different palms around a city flat. I’ve got to keep this in mind when I eventually move into the urban jungle.
17:05 PM – Kensington Palace
I caught myself unintentionally staring at a girl on the 9 Bus headed in the opposite direction as we approached the Kensington Palace stop. When those strange eye-locks happen with strangers I always wonder what the other person is thinking. “Why is this weirdo staring at me??” I’d assume.
Regardless, our 10 Bus tour had by now passed High St. Kensington Station, where we picked up an extremely fashionable elderly couple, and was approaching the proud jewel of West London: Whole Foods. I desperately wished I had an overpriced organic snack to nom on right then.
The Kensington Palace stop, stationed outside a hotel like many along this line, brought in an American girl loudly chatting on her cellphone as well as an Asian man who immediately fell asleep in the bus’s back row.
We continued onward past the Palace Gate stop and I was able to peek into Kensington Gardens. As we picked up a few more travelers at Queen’s Gate, the pitter-patter of the rain became audible on the bus’s metal roof.
17:09 – Royal Albert Hall
This stop marked when the rainy, silent serenity of the trip went completely to ruin. Three Spanish families blasted up the stairs, each with a sizable squadron of rowdy elementary-aged kids. Some were whining, some were fighting, some were making noise just to make noise. The point is, even the sleepy Asian guy in the back sputtered awake.
But moments like these are when I’m glad I grew up with three younger brothers; I’m unflappable and keep cool even around the most mindless childish madness because that’s what my parents dealt with for over 20 years. Moments like these also provoke questions like, “How did my parents stay sane all this time??”
The only one getting off to see the immaculate Albert Memorial or the famous concert hall was McDonalds Man, who had to have eaten at least four sandwiches by the time he threw his crumpled bag on the bus floor and trudged off.
17:28 – Marble Arch
From the Prince of Wales Gate to the Hyde Park Corner stop, the windows fogged up almost completely. With a 75% packed house plus kids running and/or flipping over seats, it was bound to happen eventually. When I did rub off my window, however, I glanced outside and saw more typical shopping like the Knightsbridge Burberry, so I wasn’t missing much.
Is it truly a city without an arch…?
We soon got to Marble Arch, the large marble monument revealed to the city in 1828 and starting point of my weekly runs. Next, we curved down Oxford Street (more shopping!) only to get stuck in bumper to bumper traffic. The mixture of pouring rain, snail-like movement, and the pack of youngsters wrestling down the aisles made for near palpable sense of annoyance among the soggy passengers.
I spent this downtime pondering why certain American food chains make it big in London. Yes, I love FIVE GUYS burgers and wholeheartedly believe that it rightfully deserves the block-long lines it garners in Covent Garden, but I cannot fathom why Londoners allow the putrid Pizza Hut and KFC to thrive out here. I won’t leave London without solving this perplexing puzzle.
17:35 – Selfridges
Here I saw four people walking along the rainy street with matching Union Jack flag umbrellas. I reacted by thinking, “Silly tourists,” only to remember that I’m not much different. But have they been working tirelessly throughout the term on a blog that seeks to feel and understand the unique vibes of the United Kingdom?? I’d assume not!!!
One group of kids thankfully scurried off the bus while one remaining youth banged his headed against the window and proceeded to cry. “25 minutes left,” I remind myself.
17:49 – British Library
By now, we had passed Oxford Circus, Tottenham Court Road, Percy Street, Goodge Street, Warren Street, and Euston Square. The sun was beginning to split the overcast skies, the crazy kids had settled down after a scolding by their parents, and we were entering an area that I’d never seen from ground level. Things were marvelous.
Euston Road is home to the University College Hospital and the Quaker Friends House, both of which I hadn’t seen before. The Quaker building was quite large and even featured a bookshop and vegan café. I have a strong love for William Penn and his “holy experiment” of Pennsylvania, but I don’t know much else about Quaker life. Perhaps I’ll stop back another time.
As we pulled into the British Library stop, I saw St. Pancras New Church to my right. Apparently this is the second version of the church. The first, which the Beatles took a famous photo outside of, is a kilometer away in Somers Town. Thank you again, internet.
17:56 – King’s Cross
“King’s Cross Station. This bus terminates here. Please take all your belongings with you.”
I made it! I crossed the finish line as the lone man standing (or sitting) on the bus! Goodbye forever, to each of my absurd travel companions xoxo!
Me meandering around King’s Cross Station
Headed Home
To save some time, I opted to hop on the Circle Line following the 10 Bus’s termination. The King’s Cross station was extremely hectic, with suitcase-dragging travelers bustling alongside tuxedo-clad men gulping down golden flasks. I’d assume they were headed to some sort of bachelor party, but they also easily could’ve been catering waiters en route to a dismal night of work.
I oddly felt much more relaxed after I sat down on the yellow Circle Line train. Unlike the double-decker buses, this is a mode of transportation that I take daily. It’s a system that I’ve mastered underneath the earth and reality, always knowledgeable of where I’m headed. I think the Underground’s simplicity is what makes it so calming. You sit down, close your eyes, and jump off when you hear the robotic voice announce your stop.
But what my bus trip provided, unlike the Tube, was context. As your train shuffles along the wiry maze, you’re clueless of where you truly are, a sensation that feeds into the “Londin” drudge that some call it. By looking up from the Underground and looking down via my perch on the 10 bus’s second floor, I crafted a mental map of how certain city streets and neighborhoods interact. London’s winding streets boast their own wiry blueprint, however, to solve this jigsaw, I have to continue looking up rather than down for answers.
uk vibes 