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Opinion

Forming a Bond with Craig

The name’s Bland, James Bland, UK’s Daily Mail screamed seven years ago when Daniel Craig was picked to be Pierce Brosnan’s successor. 007 aficionados were aghast when dour Daniel was chosen over suave and saturnine Clive Owen of Inside Man fame. He was accused of being dull, ginger and entirely unworthy of wearing the crown that had graced the heads of Connery, Moore and Brosnan. He was ridiculed in rather personal terms for aspiring to be the new face of the most successful secret agent in celluloid history. And as the 2006 production of Casino Royale, Craig’s first Bond film, rolled on, so did online hate campaigns threatening to boycott the film on its release.

Daniel himself wasn’t sure he should be the man with the golden gun, and still isn’t, if his admission to Rolling Stone magazine is anything to go by; ‘I’ve been trying to get out of this from the very moment I got into it.’ Such was his initial reluctance that Bond producer Barbara Broccoli had to talk him into it over months of meetings. But why were they so keen on him? Respected thespian and indie-film darling he might have been but he was no global movie star, and yet Barbara had a strong hunch about him, ‘I felt he was an extraordinary actor and destined to become a star.’ With years of experience at judging a good Bond, she knew she was on to a winner but the world wasn’t convinced. Looking back, I can remember my own disappointment at Craig’s ascension to Bondhood. What was it about him that wasn’t working for Bond buffs? ‘He looks all wrong’ was one of the rallying cries of the anti-Craig brigade. You could argue that the 5’10 strawberry blond (‘ginger’ to the less polite) Daniel isn’t the tall, dark, handsome spy extraordinaire we expect to see, but how many Bonds have actually fit the bill?

Roger Moore certainly didn’t look the part and worse, his nudge-nudge-wink-wink mannerisms were straight out of a Carry On film. George Lazenby, a wraith flitting through the franchise, didn’t even get to live twice. Timothy Dalton, though dark and theatrically handsome, was a tad too Shakespearian. As for Pierce Brosnan, exposed as I was at a tender age to his dapper sleuth, Remington Steele in the Eighties, I can’t be mean about the man; I even like his braying in Mamma Mia, but his Bond has been described recently as having the looks and gravitas of a leisurewear model.  

So, even though Craig is neither dark (just endearingly ginger like Jon Bon Jovi, Toby Stephens, and my husband), nor particularly tall or conventionally handsome, he has the most intense blue eyes (even ‘M’ thinks so), the buffest body and most importantly, he looks like he has a brain. You can’t seriously consider becoming a Thinking Woman’s Crumpet if you haven’t mastered the art of looking like you’re in deep thought even as you blast baddies to kingdom come and drop your pants after 10 seconds with a hottie.

But Daniel Craig has won me over, just as he has the rest of the Bond-viewing world. Casino Royale was declared a triumph (by some of the very people who had threatened to blackball it), Quantum of Solace was considered a suitable successor and Skyfall has been hailed as arguably the best Bond film ever. It has certainly had the most lucrative opening of any Bond film, due in no small part to Daniel Craig playing the title role, the critics now concede.

What works for him is that the twinkle in his eye appears genuine. There are well-oiled wheels turning behind them. He has contributed ideas to the scripts, marketing, and character development of the films, from the first. When a protracted Writers Guild strike meant that the
Quantum of Solace
script wasn’t finished when shooting began, Craig had to improvise as he went along. Over the course of the three films, he has taken interest in and has had particular influence on stunt coordination. So, much too dour, brooding and melancholy, you say? He’s just thinking…about how best to wow you in the next scene.

In putting his stamp on the films, he has also managed to drag them into the new millennium.  On her majesty’s secret service once again, the gentleman spy is no longer a caricature of himself. A modern man, he views women as equals and not playthings. He fell in love with Vesper in
Casino Royale
and shed a tear when she died, but he’s also a man of action. In the dark days of the 21st century when there is so much villainy afoot, he’s had no choice but to exterminate 39 brutes in just three films, but he has done it clinically, without any lip-smacking relish in their demise. Plus, Craig can act a bit. He doesn’t caper or mince. His muscular intensity is exactly what you want from the most successful spy in modern fiction. When he says, ‘The name is Bond, James Bond’ on his way to winning women and saving the world, you believe him. In fact, he could be the white Samuel L Jackson; he’s almost as cool, in a very British way. But is he the best Bond ever? No, that’s Sean Connery (suggesting otherwise is tantamount to sacrilege) but he’s close, and that’s a very happy coincidence in the 50th year of this fabulous film franchise.

As for me, it may not have been love at first sight with Daniel’s Bond, but he has grown on me like a rash (I call it Creeping Craigitis); a disease with bizarre side effects that turn me into jelly when I watch him now - definitely shaken but also, incredibly stirred.

Shreya Sen-Handley is a writer and illustrator. She now writes for The Guradian and other UK newspapers
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