Bad News Bond

One of those eternal mysteries that torments the soul: They keep cranking out James Bond movies, but they refuse to make another Smokey and the Bandit? What the fuzznuck? They stopped at three Smokeys, four Shafts and one Action Jackson -- which is a national disgrace -- but they're up to twenty-one Bond flicks. Hollywood never gets sick of 007, but then, neither do I. He might have started as a Brit fantasy of JFK, but by now, Bond movies are the macho version of figure skating, with the same lush clothes, glitzy ladies, soppy music, big hair and Eurotrash intrigue. We love 007 because he tangles with an international cast of octopussies, men with golden guns and mink-bikini assassins -- and he never asks us to take any of it seriously.

But now, Bond's deadliest foe might be Daniel Craig, the guy who plays him in the new Casino Royale. It's never easy for a rookie to step into the franchise, but Craig is off to a sad start. He got his front teeth knocked out filming a fight sequence with some henchmen (Bad, Oddjob! Bad!). Also, he can't handle the Aston Martin, since he can't drive a stick. Old-school fans are in an uproar, complaining he's blond and blue-eyed, but the real problem is he's no movie star. Would you be afraid to leave your girl at the bar with this dude? No. Can you see him delivering post-bad-guy-decapitation one-liners like "That's using your head" with a straight face? No. He's got a face only a mum could love, and to Americans, he's most famous for getting his ass kicked by Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider -- on a lameness scale, that's 007 out of 008.

Craig is excellent in the gritty U.K. thriller Layer Cake, which obviously earned him the gig. But gritty has nothing to do with 007. Nobody wants Bond to look like he's really been in a fight, just like nobody wants Charlie's Angels to look like actual detectives. All the great Bonds have been dashing loverboys: Sean Connery, Pierce Brosnan, James Coburn in Our Man Flint, Wesley Snipes in Passenger 57 ("Always bet on black!"). But Brosnan saved the franchise, and they were crazy to let him go. He was the perfect foil for Teri Hatcher, Sophie Marceau and Denise Richards, who played nuclear physicist Dr. Christmas Jones, just so Bond could snicker between the sheets, "I thought Christmas only comes once a year."

But if anybody can single-handedly rescue 007, it's the new Bond girl, Eva Green. Have you seen The Dreamers? She spends the whole movie naked. I have seen The Dreamers many times, since I care deeply about the problems of Sixties French film students, yet I am never prepared for Eva's pizza-size nipples. They are like no other celebri-nipples ever -- she's a true innovator of nippleology. I recall Victoria Principal covering similar ground areola-wise, but not up to Eva's standard. I feel certain the 007 legacy is safe in her hands.