https://open.spotify.com/track/5dCFHwcJtWdjXryXEPtuB8?si=8a5757ddd92a4ddb
Recommended if you like Primal Scream and The Chemical Brothers.
XTRMNTR.
Tag Archives: Quantum of Solace
Bronson [2008)
Three hospitals.
Three towers.
Alan Franey running Broadmoor on recommendation of Jimmy Savile.
From 1968 onwards, Jimmy Savile had his own room at Broadmoor for his “charity” work.
Savile had a personal set of keys to Broadmoor from 1968 till 2004.
Or 2009.
Unsupervised access to some wards.
Mad max.
Black hawk down.
Tom Clancy.
I got close to Luton.
In the rain.
Wandsworth.
Gary Glitter.
James Earl Ray.
Julian Assange.
Oscar Wilde.
Pete Doherty.
Broadmoor 1982.
With that fucker Jimmy Savile on the loose.
Who’s the real criminal?
Wormwood Scrubs.
Babyshambles.
True romance.
She’s marrying Brian.
Brixton.
Mick Jagger.
Glenn Danzig.
New Jersey.
Bristol.
Rock and roll part II.
Belmarsh.
GITMO as a verb.
WikiLeaks.
Tommy Robinson.
Budgie.
Motorboating.
Nicolas Winding Refn.
Christina Hendricks.
Lively and Reynolds in New Orleans.
Honoré soon gun-grabbing again like in Katrina.
Most certainly masterpiece.
Birds.
Pajaros.
Magritte.
Un Chien andalou.
Bronson Salvador.
Jung death wish.
Verdi.
Refn Jewish Dane.
Wagner.
Little-known Attila.
It was my destiny like Rachmaninoff.
Ring cycle.
Stolen.
Richard Strauss.
Bruckner 4.
Delibes.
Deliberate.
Puccini.
Watch for Bregenz.
Q ear piece.
Lapel.
-PD
Star Wars [1977)
Kissinger.
Harvard Kennedy.
Gergen.
Ulm.
Bregenz.
Quantum.
Q.
Zurich.
Tosca.
Fourth Industrial Revolution.
Fourth Reich.
Coming at you from SCIP.
Novice.
Your only weakness.
Confirm.
Bilderberg Steering Committee.
Richard Perle.
Paul Wolfowitz.
9/11 false-flag.
David Rockefeller.
Trilateral.
Lawrence Summers.
Lolita Express.
Pedophile terrorists.
S.P.E.C.T.R.E.
Robert Zoellick.
Twitter.
Stacey Abrams.
Stolen election.
Confirmed.
Current.
WEF President Børge Brende.
Eric Schmidt.
Google.
https://bilderbergmeetings.org/background/steering-committee/steering-committee
Former.
William Burns.
CIA.
Edmund de Rothschild.
Lynn Forester.
Lolita Express.
Pedophile blackmailers.
https://bilderbergmeetings.org/background/steering-committee/former-steering-committee-members
WEF.
Frankenstein.
1816.
Prince Andrew.
Blackmailed pedophile.
2017.
China.
I. Brexit
II. Trump
Xi Jinping.
Al Gore.
Queen Rania.
John Podesta.
Pedophile cannibals.
Greta Thunberg.
Retard.
George Soros.
Vampire.
Summer Davos.
Every year in China since 2007.
CEPI.
One day before inauguration of Donald Trump.
Vaccines.
https://archive.ph/20210322155953/https://cepi.net/news_cepi/cepi-officially-launched/
Center of photo.
Bill Gates.
Prince Charles.
Great Reset.
6uild6ack6etter.
Trudeau.
Biden.
Global coup d’état.
Confirmed.
Event 201.
Gates Foundation.
Johns Hopkins.
https://www.centerforhealthsecurity.org/event201/
https://www.centerforhealthsecurity.org/event201/scenario.html
https://www.centerforhealthsecurity.org/event201/players/haines.html
Central Intelligence Agency.
Dan David Prize.
Israel.
Anthony Fauci.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dan_David_Prize
Young Global Leaders.
Anderson Cooper (CIA).
[Bill Barr CIA…two summers]
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Barr
“There’s no such thing as a former KGB man.” –Vladimir Putin
Zuckerberg.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Young_Global_Leaders
CERN.
Good vs. evil.
-PD
drugs [2021)
We are finally catching up with Pauly Deathwish.
Here on his sixth album, drugs.
Good psychedelic surf start.
The romance must have seemed possible.
Christian trappings.
A great opening track.
Psychedelic Christianity.
Think of those private press releases from the ’60s and ’70s.
I’m hearing the joy and gravity of Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci.
The breakdown of this song “An Ocean of Cough Syrup” is where it’s at.
Maybe a bit of Kevin Ayers.
Wasted innocence.
After the party.
The party at the end of the world.
Certainly song lyrics reminiscent of Wayne Coyne.
Sonic Youth.
Yummy Yummy Yummy.
Pop psych.
Monkees.
Maybe the romance has faded.
Tabloid.
Even Dire Straits.
Walk of life.
Track 2 with acrobatic chord changes.
Music school.
Straight-up Fort Leavenworth presentation.
A pop song about biological warfare, economic warfare, psychological warfare, and divide/conquer.
This is some serious shit.
Not sure whether to call Billy Bragg or Glenn Greenwald.
This is the kind of shit that wins Nobels.
So maybe we are hearing the new Dylan here.
Imagine if Thom Yorke actually had something to say.
The bends.
Lift.
Leonard Cohen.
John Cale.
Anthemic.
This dude is definitely right-wing.
I guess you could say.
Imagine if Bob Dylan was actually in the John Birch Society.
That’s what you get here.
Hey, take it or leave it.
Ezra Pound!
But this dude is all about ‘merica.
And i got no problem with it.
Climax.
Constitution of the USA.
Time’s up.
“memes at the ready”.
Information warfare taken into the realm of head music.
Songwriting.
This guy is a danger…to the lame liberal establishment.
THIS MOTHERFUCKER HAS RELEASED 7 ALBUMS THIS SUMMER!!!!!!!
Kraftwerk.
Jon Spencer.
Martin Rev dipping Copenhagen.
Ministry?
Butthole Surfers?
Dabbling.
“Latinas for Trump”.
Wow.
Track 3 is a trucker song.
Set in Switzerland.
With production like Nigel Godrich.
It’s a long track.
But enjoyable.
Drum machine and acoustic guitar.
And funky clavinet.
Jerry Reed.
Amos Moses.
Yodeling!
FUcking hell.
Haven’t heard this since Jerry Lee.
Dwight Yoakam.
Chris Isaak.
But this is the kinda shit cognizant about There’s a Riot Goin’ On.
Spaced cowboy.
Travelogue of Swiss sites from cinema history.
I have a feeling this guy would drink Klaus Schwab’s blood.
This conspiracy platter is fine listening.
Variety.
French/German.
No Italian.
Except Cortina d’Ampezzo.
No Romansch.
Motorik.
NEU! meets Gram Parsons.
Who is/was this “Swiss Alps Truck-Driving Gal”?
Cosmic funk.
Like French band Air.
Great bassline.
Dancy filler track of highest quality.
Mike Lindell needs to hear this shit.
mark_packet.
recieve_good.
What if Wayne Coyne and Dave Fridmann actually made songs that spoke to something larger?
They’ve hit it occasionally.
You gotta have Jesus in your heart.
Brian Eno first four records spun out again and again.
Cornelius.
Stereolab.
And WHAT THE FUCK?!?
Delta blues?
Country blues???
Yes, indeed.
“COVID-19 Blues”.
Like late-period Dylan.
Seriously.
If Dylan passes, this dude is next up.
I know it sounds implausible.
Communism used to be risqué.
Now the tables have turned.
Paul Joseph Watson needs to hear this shit.
The human condition.
Dr. Steve Pieczenik needs to hear this song, “COVID-19 Blues”.
This is Stax.
Muscle Shoals.
Atlantic.
Booker T.
But with that San Antonio twist.
Pauly Deathwish from the Alamo city.
Augie Meyers.
Flaco Jimenez.
Is Trump still the President? 😉
When was this written?
Why that move to Bedminster?
Cabinet meeting.
A unifying song.
Like “Dixie”.
Ask Abraham Lincoln about “Dixie”.
Masked and anonymous.
QAnon line as money shot.
Sweet harmonica.
Linn drums.
Beck.
Loop.
It don’t matter.
This record rocks the Walmart parking lot.
GUITAR SOLO!
Jimmy Vaughn.
B.B. King.
Richard Manuel tickling the ivories.
Band brown album.
Call Q.
Call Mojo.
Call Uncut.
Side two for all you vinyl lovers.
“Let’s Get Creative”.
Floyd delay.
Sexy song.
J. Spaceman.
Jeff Tweedy.
Kid A.
Really special production.
Which just goes to show that anything can be done with an iPhone.
Except privacy.
Tim Cook cocksucker.
In shitty record store.
Radiohead were our Beatles.
Or their Beatles.
Now many friends have left.
You can’t say White Lives Matter.
Can someone please tell Pauly Deathwish this?
Not that he SAID it.
Because he didn’t.
Trail of Dead.
Which makes sense.
Read this motherfucker’s bio on Spotify.
No slouch.
I happen to know some extra details which I may divulge at a later date.
Lots of training in music composition.
Multiple touches with Nadia Boulanger.
Sexy song.
T. Rex.
Bolan.
Jonny Greenwood.
Scott Pilgrim.
Edgar Wright needs to hear this shit.
No cap.
Dead ass.
Trans.
Neil Young.
Dead Man.
Thurston Moore needs to hear this shit.
Funny mention.
Watch the water.
August 20.
Rollerskate Skinny appreciation society.
St. Johnny.
Boo Radleys.
First Stereolab album.
Grandaddy.
Harvest drums.
Like it!
Like a Sonic Youth country album.
Made in a barn.
Nothing Ween about this shit.
Except for the trucker song.
Which is funny as fuck.
This dude definitely a QAnon.
“Midnight Rider”.
Paul Revere.
One if by…two…
Mercury Rev.
Suzanne Thorpe.
Applied memetics.
Oh shit.
First Eno record.
Desert island.
THIS is impressive.
Turns out to be motto of 4th Psychological Operations Group (4thPOG) at Fort Bragg.
The PSYWAR just got real.
Vietnamese ghosts amplified.
But this is Chinese.
China bio attack.
Fauci through China.
Focus on Peter Daszak and his absurd opera-singer brother.
There is going to be hell to pay.
Q-uantum of solace.
PCAPs.
Obviously, Pauly Deathwish loves the instrumentals from Bowie’s Low.
This is a constant touchstone.
Trance.
Meditative techno.
Ugh.
When the bass drops in on “Verbum Vincet ’72”.
Who was Q?
Who is Q?
Was Q a psychological operation?
From whence might it have emanated?
Roger Waters.
Hell to pay.
Criminal networks wiped off the face of the earth.
Peking opera.
Sue me.
LeBron James is a worthless cocksucker.
I think I would get along with this Pauly Deathwish guy.
8964.
We have it all…in Utah.
“Bluffdale” like Marquee Moon.
Meets chiptune.
Super Marquee Moon.
Even a bit of John Bonham.
Good drum sound.
Dubstep?
Riots worldwide.
No vaccine passports.
Here’s where BLM and MAGA come together.
Don’t vax us, man.
A unifying event.
The real racists are the totalitarian Democrats.
Am I doing this right?
Pepe Lives Matter needs to hear this shit.
Klaus Voorman bass.
Leave it in.
Smacked out of your gourd.
Phil Spector murdered by the Rona.
Lee “Scratch” producing The Clash.
People want to sleep forever.
Sleep through this global nightmare.
Gotta wake up.
But the reality is crushing.
So God gives us solace here and there.
Black ark.
Meandering.
Oar.
Moby grape.
Hal Blaine back in the barn stoned on some world-class shit.
Nodding.
Space-age.
Astral weeks.
Nick Drake.
Ending album on serious note?
“Cotton Ball Soup”.
Will the masses win?
Against the vaccine passport bastards?
Montreal.
Where’s GYBE?
No heroes can be found.
Where’s Thom Yorke?
Radiohead?
Bob Dylan?
WWIII.
iTunes.
Spotify.
-PD
Stieg Larssons Millennium: Del 3 [2010)
Trump tests positive for COVID.
Is it really as simple as all that?
When do criminals get careless?
Quantum of solace.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quantum_Group_of_Funds
Alexander Zakharchenko [sic].
False-flag.
Maybe Marie Niedermann.
Maybe Paul.
Klaus Barbie.
Hôtel Terminus.
Lyon, France.
It goes deeper than that.
I have certainly written about James Forrestal’s death before.
Connect the dots [chronological]:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Central_Intelligence_Agency
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Forrestal
[ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ajax_(play) ]
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1953_Iranian_coup_d%27état
But wait, there’s more.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_F._Kennedy_autopsy
Woodrow Wilson.
October 2, 1919.
Opus Dei founded.
October 2, 1928.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Propaganda_Due
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piazza_Fontana_bombing
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_H._W._Bush
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skull_and_Bones
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Licio_Gelli
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sovereign_Military_Order_of_Malta
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Counterintelligence_Corps
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Hanssen
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Louis_Freeh
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antonin_Scalia
Maureen [sic].
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clarence_Thomas
Strategy of tension.
-PD
The Princess Bride [1987)
In this world, we look for goodness.
And we think back.
Buttercup.
The name is not quite right.
But Robin Wright is perfect.
To conjure memories of wonder.
Rapunzel.
La fille aux cheveux de lin.
Ahh, yes…
We are getting closer.
Sick. Bedridden.
Fever dreams of distant possibilities.
And Secretary of Defense, William “The Refrigerator” Perry.
The kissing had to be cut out.
The censors, you understand.
And perhaps we have saved these kisses for the finish line.
As you wish. As you like it.
Have it your way. I love you.
But enter from offstage the Dread Pirate Pico de Gallo.
Lisping speech impediments abound.
Wallace Shawn in The Seventh Seal.
And the sartorial strap of André the Giant.
Grenoble.
We are getting closer.
We learn that Saul Berenson is a very good actor.
Mandy Patinkin.
Hound Dog Taylor didn’t need no bass.
Enter from orchestra pit Johnny Cash.
When you are tumbling in love…weightless…in an orchard of God’s making.
Abloom. In Stockholm.
Pretexts. False flags. It’s all here.
But Rob Reiner insists on cinema.
From the quicksand.
Don’t believe in yourself.
To his credit.
Tesla.
But this one goes to 50.
Years.
Off your life.
Two skinned appendages. Comes with the package.
Houellebecq quote. Creeley.
Could have sworn Mel Smith was Viv Savage (David Kaff).
Hyperlinks to Rare Bird (Charisma, Polydor).
Abandon all hope…in the hand of Dante.
The cries of the innocent.
Clouds of blood.
Slaying the witch.
On live television.
Strategic management from Stephen Hawking.
Weekend at Bernie’s.
Professional courtesy.
The only good thing Billy Crystal ever did.
Revenge.
Daniel Craig in writer’s strike watching The Princess Bride.
Voilá Quantum of Solace.
And Tosca.
Rachmaninov would live again…after the first symphony…in the Symphonic Dances…quoting himself…like John Fogerty…but just momentarily…to remember…conquering a state…percussing an albino…leaping from a cliff…holding up the memory of the dead…and thick glasses…on a young boy…this string quartet is for you.
“Feel sick and dirty/More dead than alive”
No Houellebecq.
“I could sleep for a thousand years…Different colors made of tears”
I was friends with André. And he with me.
Horse pills.
Bo Diddley.
Diddley bow.
Primal scream.
The holocaust cloak in Histoire(s) du cinéma.
“Look out honey ’cause I’m using technology”
Mawwiage.
Abdomen smited.
Come too far.
Not limousine liberal.
Stand down.
“She’ll be driving six white horses when she comes”
Leaves two.
Hello lady!
Honor thy father and mother.
-PD
Иван Грозный Часть I [1944)
[IVAN THE TERRIBLE, PART I (1944)]
Have you ever used Russian Wikipedia?
Because you can’t just type Ivan the Terrible.
You can’t even type Ivan Grozny.
Not least, you cannot type NBaH rpo3HbIN yactb I.
No, certainly not.
But by that point, you are close.
Funny thing about the Cold War was that it was cold.
No shooting.
At least the big guns.
Boom boom.
It was an economic war.
It would really be unfair to capitalism to claim that it didn’t win.
Ah, good old capitalism.
Capitalism is bad in a lot of ways, but it is an economic beast.
Communism is good in a lot of ways, but it got its butt kicked by capitalism.
But our story predates Marx and Lenin by centuries (even though it was commissioned by Stalin).
What we have here is a masterpiece of Soviet film: Ivan the Terrible (Part I).
It’s important. Part I. Часть I.
Because Часть II wouldn’t appear for another 14 years (Stalin was a fickle patron).
And Часть III would never appear. [It was destroyed after the director’s death.]
And what a director!
Sergei Eisenstein was a true auteur in every sense of the word.
When he died in 1948, Часть III more or less went with him.
Considering that, it’s amazing that Часть II itself even survived.
It was only the “Khrushchev thaw” which occasioned its eventual release in 1958.
But the year is 1944.
And the year is also 1547.
16 January 1547.
And Ivan (though he doesn’t look it in the film) is 16 years old.
It’s not Reims.
But it rhymes with…Bosco?
If it had a rhyme, Bob Dylan would have smacked it right down in the middle of The Freewheelin‘ or Another Side…
Good old Moscow! Москва́
Something like that…
And so we see a truly riveting coronation (this is not really a spoiler…1547).
We must remember what “the Terrible” meant.
Or means.
As I understand it…it’s neither good nor bad.
Terrible as in terror…but also as in “fear God”.
Perhaps I have botched it.
grozny (miniscule). As opposed to the capital of Chechnya.
Let me just say this:
Nikolay Cherkasov (in this film) is the spitting image of Nick Cave.
[God forbid an iconoclast get ahold of a spitting image!]
Some might need a further clarification.
I mean the Nick Cave from Warracknabeal, Australia.
Not the one from Fulton, Missouri.
Clear?
“2000 years of Christian history baby/and you ain’t learned to love me yet”
Something like that.
Ivan the Terrible “read that book from back to front”.
“It made a deep impression” (on his forehead).
But they didn’t have BBC Radio 4 in Russia in 1547.
So not even a gift of a chess set could cause Queen Elizabeth to beam a broadcast of Gardeners’ Question Time over to Ivan.
Alas, he was on his own…
Boyars be boyin’ [if you know what I mean].
I must admit, I’m rather proud of myself for figuring this out.
To wit, Михаил Названов looks like Gene Wilder as Jesus.
Tsk tsk, English Wikipedia.
Which is to say, Andrey Kurbsky is played by Mikhail Nazvanov.
Every epic needs a great beauty 🙂
And Lyudmila Tselikovskaya is no exception.
She is chaste (and chased).
English Wikipedia gives no hypertext love.
But there is an article.
She was from Astrakhan.
And here she portrays Ivan’s bride Anastasia.
Such a lovely word…tsarina.
And by Astrakhan we certainly don’t mean Canadian military fur wedge cap.
Clear?
Ivan the Terrible is basically Donald Trump (for anyone needing a reference).
Which is why Stalin identified with Ivan.
Putin is another good reference point.
For that matter, Pavel Kadochnikov’s effeminate, moronic character is a good symbol for the past 16 years of American presidency. Imagine W. as a metrosexual in 16th-century Russia. You’ve got it! 16 & 16.
Marriage is the end of friendship (in more ways than two).
And so Philip II, Metropolitan of Moscow heads off to the monastery.
But at this time he was just Feodor Kolychev.
Family Glinski mentioned. Family Zakharin mentioned.
But the House of Romanov takes an extra effort.
Anastasia’s side.
Do you remember Kazan from Quantum of Solace?
I never properly expressed my admiration for that film.
Tosca in Bregenz. Exquisite!
Back to Kazan… Poor saps vs. rich saps.
And military strategy comes to the fore. That of Ivan.
Their strength was sapped. One letter from tapped.
That would be Operation Gold!
There’s a Tartar sauce of brutality (?) reminiscent of ¡Que viva México! (remember the horses and the buried guys???).
Same camera angles.
En plein air version of coronation. The doubters. Maybe Eisenstein took a thing or two from Welles?
Because Citizen Kane was 1941.
The Soviet Union joined the Allies in June 1941.
Citizen Kane premiered the previous month and would open in theaters across the U.S. the coming September.
So we wonder whether one of the first “chess sets” of understanding was a copy of Welles’ film.
Back to these Tartars. That’s just the Western version of Tatar.
An extra R (gratis).
You may need some tarragon as well.
It certainly wasn’t “Palisades Park” for these poor Tartars.
No Freddy Cannon sound effects to distract them before being picked off by (demonym-for-people-from-Kazan) arrows.
It’s almost a Thelonious goatee. Pharaonic. Sun Ra-nese.
Over and over we hear of Livonia.
Reval (which is today Tallinn, Estonia).
An iron curtain required iron men.
Oprichnina. A policy.
Oprichnik. Of the Oprichniki. Political police.
Oath of allegiance (starting to sound like Dale Cooper).
But lets not get caught up in bikeshedding.
This film is a masterpiece throughout.
-PD
Hard Candy [2005)
Norma Bates.
[sic]
Meets Paul Kersey.
Vigilante.
You know…
It’s not often I watch horror films.
I had a bad experience once with the schlock of the genre.
Sleepwalkers (1992).
I never really forgave Stephen King for that one.
But perhaps the story was just muffed in the inept hands of Mick Garris?
Well, whatever the case may be: Hard Candy is compelling cinema.
Yes, charge me with the crime of our age.
The worship of youth.
Ephebophilia is hammered into our heads by the nonstop spectacle.
It is chronophilia from 15-19. Age range.
You’re attracted to young people.
So many nuances.
There’s hebephilia. 11-14.
Perhaps it is this which is most germane to our film.
Ellen Page is a star.
Sure, it’s a bit trendy…after Monster in 2003.
But I’ve seen that one…and Hard Candy is more compelling.
Ellen Page is more compelling.
Page plays a 14-year-old named Hayley.
Such a quintessential name. Like Caitlyn (and its derivative spellings).
Top hit? [Sponsored content?] Hayley Williams of the band Paramore.
Youth.
Hayley Williams. 27. Looks plenty young.
The worship of youth.
Red hair. Porcelain skin. Not a wrinkle in sight.
Hayley [sic]. Peak U.S. popularity in 1990s.
Et voila! Hayley Williams born 1988. That’s about right.
How about Haley? Also peaked in the 1990s. And about three times more common than the Hayley spelling.
[This is the honors-student logic of Hayley Stark in our film. Really a genius detail.]
Let’s try Hailey. Oooh! Most popular yet! And peaked in 2005 🙂
There’s also Haylee (trailer-trash rare…peak 2009), Hayleigh (a recent trend peaking in 2011…almost with a Cajun ring to it), and the ultra-rare Haylie (a dainty spelling which peaked in 2007).
These are the keys to the safe.
Yes, it’s a very bad day for Jeff Kohlver (Patrick Wilson).
Hell of a performance.
To wake up with your balls in your mouth.
Not just a figurative Quantum of Solace reference.
Sure, it’s a bit like Misery with Kathy Bates.
So, see: the Norma Bates wisecrack wasn’t so off in another way.
Let me clarify.
Hard Candy is not a great film, but it’s pretty damned good.
The direction is good.
Patrick Wilson is good.
The scenario/script is good.
Ellen Page is great.
She’s not perfect.
There’s a few moments when the tension is so ridiculous that she almost breaks character.
Not a relaxing movie.
My first “horror” review.
I love Psycho. It’s artful.
But chasing Hitchcock down that path can be a very treacherous exercise for auteurs.
David Slade does a fine job.
This film most certainly does not suck.
But again, Hulu: I just wanted to watch a fucking comedy.
And your dramas still blow.
Ended up in horror.
God damn, you people suck at your jobs.
-PD
Quantum of Solace [2008)
Early. “Dame” Judi Dench. Threat of extraordinary rendition. Not cool.
Doesn’t seem to bode well. Are we about to be served a helping of steaming-shit propaganda?
No. Not quite. Thank heavens!
Earlier. Another fucking car chase. God damn it, if I wanted to watch Top Gear I’d have stayed home with a cup of PG Tips!
But by the grace of all that’s good and right in the world (hyperbole watch), Marc Forster has done the impossible: a good (not great) follow-up to the best Bond film of all-time.
As of 2006.
Tagged banknotes. D. B. Cooper. An alias. It was 1973 when this bizarre skyjacking took place in the Pacific Northwest. The FBI had the forethought to make a microfilm photograph of all of the ransom money turned over to Mr. Cooper. That’s a lot of photographs in a short amount of time, don’t you think? 10,000 unmarked 20-dollar bills. L. Federal Reserve. San Francisco. Series 1969-C. In a matter of hours…10,000 individual photographs?
By 2008, we doubt such modes of tracking considerably less. And so, by hook and crook, we end up in Haiti. This is where we first meet Olga Kurylenko. Bolivian Intelligence.
And then the subtle subplots come in waves. We are shown the duplicity of the CIA. To wit, a CIA which is deceiving its partners the MI6.
It is all so very applicable to the adventures of one Ms. Victoria Nuland. But it goes all the way back (at least) to the ouster of one Mr. Mosaddegh in 1953. Particularly, it extends to the present allegations of U.S. military (and contractors) raping children in Colombia. It goes to the adventures of one Mr. George Soros. It leads right up to the ridiculous pronouncement of Venezuela as a threat to American national security.
Nisman. Nemtsov. Shady activities to undermine democracy in Argentina and Brazil. Warnings from Ecuador that American intelligence is attempting to overthrow any government which does not declare fealty to the United Corporations of America.
We will eventually get to Russia…or they will get to us.
São Paulo. Veolia Environnement. Suez Environnement. Water. Drought.
We tend to view very few world events as accidents anymore (knowing what we know about history). It was 9/11 which taught us that things aren’t always what they seem. And as we dug deeper into declassified documents, we realized how long this charade has been going on. And now, with immensely powerful technology at their fingertips, the most unscrupulous world leaders are in a position to stage just about anything (with a little help from the military component of their industrial complex).
I must hand it to director Forster: though the earpieces were brilliant, it was the strains of Tosca which made the mute shootout so artful.
Another soft undercurrent: a Special Branch bodyguard protecting a member of an international crime syndicate. No wonder the work of intelligence agencies is so difficult! Politicians make deals with unsavory characters and thereby endanger the safety and futures of their citizens. Oh, sure…we are made to believe that this is all in the process of pursuing the lesser of evils, but as Mary Parker Follett said, “Authority should go with knowledge…whether it is up the line or down.” That means that in many cases, politicians should get out of the way of the NSA, CIA, MI6, etc.
It’s a shame Strawberry Fields couldn’t remain with us longer. At least she gets a good trip in! Her death, however, is a rather unimaginative twist on Goldfinger. Nice try, gents.
But all is forgiven because of the Mathis death which precedes this. When seeing the old agent dead in a dumpster from a high, circumspect vantage point, we think of Bill Buckley in Beirut and even the strange death of John P. Wheeler III. We think of the MITRE Corporation. We wonder about all those filthy neocon roaches that have managed to keep their clawed positions in government (Nuland). But mostly we realize that death in a dumpster is the true romanticism of being a secret agent. This is the disconnect between reality and fiction: James Bond will never end up dead in a dumpster. He is, actor by actor, immortal. Or rather, his lifespan depends on the British-American power which persists.
If the Russians were to win, we might be seeing more Stierlitz films. Though Vyacheslav Tikhonov and Georgiy Zhzhonov are gone, that spirit would procede.
In James Bond we have the remnants of the British Empire (and the American spoils of WWII known as Hollywood).
In Quantum of Solace we again find the trend which started at least as early as the excellent License to Kill (1989): divine insubordination. You do not have to obey an unjust order. An unjust law is no law at all. St. Thomas Aquinas (from St. Augustine). Natural law.
Jeffrey Wright displays this admirably in his portrayal of CIA agent Felix Leiter. And of course Daniel Craig as Bond…the epitome of insubordination. Bond can get away with it because he is that talented. Few are these mythical supermen.
Forster manages a touchingly real moment when Craig shields and comforts Kurylenko amid the flashback flames. It reminds us of Bond’s humanity in the egg-shell poignant scene of Casino Royale when Craig joins Eva Green beneath the interminably therapeutic cascade of a distraught shower…sitting down, fully clothed…that distant, vacant look of fear in her eyes as she shivers.
And with this we congratulate the James Bond producers Michael G. Wilson and Barbara Broccoli for stringing together these two films in such a genius manner.
We end in Kazan. Not Elia Kazan. May God spare us the dick-measuring contest of Minuteman III and Topol-M.
-PD
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