Naked fish and the best shower scene of 2006

I am so not getting those papers done, am I?

The last day of the Pantalones del Nerdo visit saw a quiet night in the land of Oaks. First, I hauled them off to a sushi restaurant that had been closed last time. Any place with the word Drunken in the name is a place I'm likely to favor. When that place also tends to be busy but not crowded, cheerful in the grayest of winter storms, and generous with the servings of shimmery, beautiful fish, you can bet I'll try to be a regular.

We gorged. They don't get good sushi in their landlocked mountain state, and my budget doesn't allow for frequent dining out anymore. Honestly, I'm not sure how we could have resisted gluttony. Case in point: Hamachi Crunch roll. This is a California style roll composed of buttery yellowtail, tempuraed something, and traces of unagi glaze. Absolutely delicious. 3 wooden platters of rice, fish and seaweed later, we lumbered out and headed off for a late night viewing of Casino Royale.

The Grand Lake is one of the last remaining giant, old skool theaters. The balcony has been converted for a second screen, and there are a couple of tiny side theaters as well, but the main theater is resplendent. It still has a stage. The period decor has been well maintained. They have a new velvet curtain covering the immense screen. Best of all is the Wurlitzer organ. On weekend evenings in lieu of ads and endless trailers, the organ rises up from a pillar in the floor while the keyboardist plays his heart out. Just before the curtain opens, as the lights are dimming, it sinks back to the ground in a roar of applause.

All I could remember about the first Casino Royale was that the original is something of a parody. Ladies and Gentlemen, this is no mockery. In fact, it's a major departure from all the Bond movies I can remember. For starters, they eliminated the cheeze factor. Gone are the mannequins with lewdly suggestive names. There are still beautiful ladies, and Bond is still a player. But he's a less creepy one. The plot is still preposterous, but somehow less overblown. Exciting moments are a more believable, requiring a less exhausting willful suspension of disbelief. To my dismay also missing are the quartermaster (Q) and his whiz-bang technology, but that is squarely in line with the approach in this film.

Instead of a vehicle driven by caricatures and technological gadgetery, this is a character and action driven film. Of course not all characters are developed equally. Poor Judi Dench is saddled with crude, hokey lines that occasionally border on the hystrionic. M deserves more respect than she got. Also getting the short end of the stick is Eva Green's character Vesper Lynd. Per the Bond film recipe, she is staggeringly beautiful. However she gets uneven treatment from the writers. In one scene she takes Bond down a peg in an ascerbic assessment of his personality delivered in low, mellifluous tones. However her lovely voice is often used on throwaway dialogue. Perhaps this is because her voice coach could not coax a consistently English accent from her Froggy larynx. Perhaps it's because she was meant primarily as eye candy in an action movie. Who knows. Another insult came from the make-up team. She is a lovely, natural beauty. Unfortunately, the cosmetics used were garish, harsh, and dare I say whorish. The makeup actually detracted from her appearance, which is difficult to do with such an attractive person. Happily, they got it completely right with Bond.

Daniel Craig is my favorite Bond since Connery. Partly it's because he's only reasonably attractive in that oh-so-British manner of pallid coloration, eye crinkles, dimples, non-existent upper lip, and freakishly blue eyes. He's not magazine cover hot. His appeal flows from the Englishness of personality, his reticent affability, the constrained demeanor from which rays of emotion escape in unguarded moments. His understated character serves a high contrast to his explosive physicality. And what a well-muscled physicality it is. (Bites knuckle) Which brings us to the shower scene.

First, it's only one of several extremely well done bathroom scenes in the film. Second, It's not an important scene for purposes of the plot, but it's one of my favorite scenes in recent movie-going history. Foreshadowed by the classic film noir image of an upended and broken wine glass, the scene is shot in a brightly-lit minimalist bathroom of glaring white tile. Beyond a glass shower enclosure and stainless steel fixtures the room is featureless. There is only one line spoken. Lesser directors would have messed it up. The temptation to transform the soaking wet hero and beautiful lady are into a writhing mass of sexual congress to resolve the moment's conflict would have trapped most. Instead, director Martin Campbell applied a nuanced touch. He let the austerity of the set amplify the vulnerability and tenderness exhibited by the characters. The emotional charge didn't create the scene. It was the scene.

In fact, was so taken by this one scene I went back to the Grand Lake and saw it the next night as well. You should check it out. You'll only be disappointed if you're seeking a poorly done, traditional bond flick.