Control
Somewhere in the first hour of Casino Royale, I stopped waiting for it to be bad. I went in skeptical—Bond movies weren’t my thing, and I’d never heard of Daniel Craig—but the film just took hold.
Craig has this control to him, this absolute stillness. He’s not doing the winking Bond routine. He’s just there, precise and capable, and the film moves without wasting time. It just pulls you along.
For eight euros and an evening with friends, that was more than I expected. I walked out satisfied.
What stays with me is the Aston Martin. They destroy this beautiful car in the film—just wreck it for a scene. There’s something reckless about that, something wild about totaling something perfect. Almost the hottest thing in the entire movie.