Die Another Day

Twenty-two films into the franchise, one can only imagine how easy it must be to be a Bond screenwriter – “How about we go with an action sequence type 44 here, followed by a chick in bikini shot and a snappy, sleazy one-liner as he whips his gadget out? Cool.”

This familiarity though, coupled with the all-important event factor is precisely the appeal. How else can you account for the fact that the overlong, over-cooked and under-written The World Is Not Enough, took so much at the box office?

This time around Pierce Brosnan does battle with eco-friendly maniac Gustav Graves (Stephens) and his nefarious Icarus artificial sun device, but the film’s real coup is the casting of Halle Berry. Unfortunately, having spent obscene amounts of dosh in order to secure the Oscar winning actress’ services, the producers try to get their money’s worth by expanding on the usual wham-bam formula to include the kind of cheesy, sheet-grasping, soft-focus sex scenes that happily died out with the passing of Melrose Place.

In fairness, Die Another Day avoids the high kitsch excesses of its lacklustre predecessor, preferring to emphasise the action, so there’s 10% less corn, marginally less cringeworthy dialogue, and a bit more effort from all parties concerned – but it all merely amounts to another two hours of worthless bombast.

Don’t believe the hype