A man walks vigilantly into the embassy building, he furtively flicks through his numerous passports and produces the correct one. From across the room, Security eye him closely, speaking into the radios concealed in their jackets.

They arm themselves and walk towards him. The man, with slightly blonde hair and an athletic physique, knows exactly what will happen. With a snap of wrist, and a shrug of his body he has broken the arm of one guard, punched another man unconscious, and has pile-driven a third effortlessly into the marble floor, confiscating his gun in the process. The man twirls the gun expertly into the direction of oncoming guards and silently warns them off, he turns and vanishes. His name is Bourne, Jason Bourne.

For it is Bourne, and not Bond, who is responsible for the latter’s incredible reinvigoration. To reminisce, the Bond franchise is the most lucrative and high profile action franchise in movie history, with Casino Royale being Bond’s 21st official cinematic outing. Despite its success, or perhaps because of it, Bond has remained inexorably defiant to change, both stylistically and ideologically. Based on Ian Fleming’s successful spy novels of the 1950s and 60s, there has been a constant and barely concealed misogyny in the character of Bond, a trait never explained nor seriously contested in the movies themselves, and so, the peculiarity has woven itself into the franchise like chewing gum into a new carpet. It was only with the success of the comparatively small-budgeted, grittier, tougher, vastly superior Bourne franchise (look out for The Bourne Ultimatum in 2007, folks) and the steadily declining, arse-end of Pierce Brosnan’s CGI-wankery Bond epoch that lead to the producers feeling the need for change.

In a subtle way, Casino Royale is Bond’s deconstruction and resurrection. In exploring his weaknesses, his fallibility, they’ve inevitably made him stronger.

To get the inevitable superlatives out of the way, Casino Royale is an incredible film and an massive achievement, a staple of how contemporary action-films should be; smart, self-aware, unflinching and intelligent. It is undoubtedly the best Bond film since the Sean Connery heyday. Connery, of course, has loomed like Grecian-haired phantom over the franchise since it’s big-screen conception; partly because of Connery’s natural charisma and sex-appeal, but mostly, because at the time, Bond was fresh, original, a icon of the sunshine-sexuality of the 1960s, and was yet unburdened with the need to reel off that line, to incorporate pathetic gadgetry and introduce further insipid female ‘love’ interests, as well as his appalling one-liners. Casino Royale is as good as it is because it dares to be different. Like Christopher Nolan’s stripping-away of the shitness that consumed the increasingly camp and damp Batman films (Not George Clooney’s fault, granted – I love you, George…) Bond has shrugged off the distractions and the stupidity and has focused on the theme, the stratagem, and thankfully, the characters.

Bourne, due to a first-rate script, acting and emphasis on character, has taught Bond that; with the right emotional investment, watching a man fight with a biro or a magazine can be a million times more exhilarating than watching a man surf his way through a 200 foot wave whilst completing advanced SuDoku. Bond, about as tedious and one-dimensional as any character… ever, has suddenly acquired layers. Thanks to a superb script from Neal Purvis, Robert Wade and everyone’s favourite ‘weighty’ screenwriter Paul Haggis, Bond’s weaknesses; namely his ego, his machine-like pitilessness, and his hatred of women, have been addressed and have become the strongest, most enjoyable moments of Nu-Bond. The introduction of an intelligent / questioning female protagonist, Vesper Lynd (played by the sickeningly beautiful Eva Green) is primarily to chastise him on all the blinkered outlooks and moral ambiguities that the Bond-haters have long demanded answering. Bond, for the first time, has been stripped truly naked (literally, as with the torture scene) and then there’s Bond first real love affair, managed and conducted particularly well.

Stylistically, Casino Royale removes the fetid-gloss and gives it a much appreciated grittier, harsher feel. The introduction to the film, shot in black and white, cleverly shows Bond’s first kill. A jagged bathroom mêlée that portrays violence as violence should be; ugly, brutal and emotionally fraught. The second kill is easier… ‘Considerably’ to quote JB. Thematically, the film is set firmly in the now, i.e., the post-9/11 sphere (the returning Judi Dench as M even mentions it. It replaces Fleming’s original Cold War setting) and despite the 20 other Bond missions filmed before (but due to a newly-non-linear storyline, placed after) the audience is treated to explanations as to where Bond acquires his more iconic appendages, as well as some other sly references thrown in for good measure. “Would you like your Martini shaken or stirred, sir?” “Do it look as if I give a damn?”

In a subtle way, Casino Royale is Bond’s deconstruction and resurrection. Expertly, the writers, the director (Martin Campell also directed the last great Bond film ‘Goldeneye’) have created something entirely fresh from a franchise so deficient of life and innovation, yet the real triumph is with the introduction of the new, much mooted blonde Bond, Daniel Craig. You have to feel sorry for his appalling treatment from some Bond-geek camps: “He’s not pretty enough!” or “He’s too fucking… blonde!”, but for his considerable talent as an actor, he’s able to project layers into a character that previously had none, and with his physical presence, he positively demands the respect of the audience, both male and female. Let’s have an odd hush, please, for the thinking man’s Bond.

Casino Royale, then, is a terrific achievement on all fronts, Bond-re-Bourne (gettit?), is as intriguing and exhilarating an action film you’ll see, and thankfully, the man who wears only the most expensive tuxes, sleeps with only the most scantily-clad of women, demands too much from his bar-staff, and drives the classiest cars, has become the complex modern hero without losing his own identity. In exploring Bond’s weaknesses, his fallibility, they’ve inevitably made him stronger.