The Year of Living Dangerously (1982)

"All is clouded by desire." -Bhagavad Gita

The Art of the Insult

I found this compilation clip via Instapundit. Insulting someone in a meaningful and effectual way is both an art and science on some levels. Balancing between painful truths, cutting language, and poetic timing can be challenging. Some of these showcased lines are epic. During high school, there was list of Shakespearean insults that circulated around much to our collective amusement. If people put more thought into the insults they hurled, perhaps the world be a more considerate and balanced place.

Top Gun: Greatest Movie Intro Ever!

Like the Rock of Gibraltar, few things are as timelessly awesome and consistent as the title/opening sequence of Top Gun. Between the perfectly harmonized music, mind-blowing sounds, evocative imagery of seamless naval flight operations,  and unabashed conveyance of Pax Americana, it covers all of its' bases. It's tough to dispute the all encompassing awesomeness of these first four cinematic minutes and with the exception of the opening sequence of Casino Royale, the werewolf has yet to find a film that gets so much right so quickly.

The werewolf's father is the consummate technology geek and is always upgrading his home theater systems. One of the best tests you can perform to assess the quality of your domestic entrainment set-up is load the Blu-Ray of Top Gun and crank the sound as far as your willing to risk it. If you're spleen is shaking, kidney's are tickled, and the cockles of your American heart are teased, life is grand. It is full-proof and worthy test.

Although far from perfect (is there a perfect film?), Top Gun is an undisputed classic. The Cold War themes, unapologetic pro-Americanism, pro-U.S. military, plus a killer cast that launched multiple careers. Household names such as Tom Cruise, Val Kilmer, Tim Robbins, Tom Skerrit, Meg Ryan, Anthony Edwards, Michael Ironside, and Kelly McGillis all showed up in the cast. Plus, do you remember the call-sign for the token black pilot? I bet "Hollywood" comes to mind. Wrong! "Sundown" is his call-sign, I shit you not. This a legacy of many a night devoted to pub trivia.

Kick-Ass: Unsuspectingly kicks some serious ass

Kick-Ass is simply one of the most gratifying cinematic experiences the werewolf has recently encountered. When he bought the ticket, he expected some C-grade shlock that would be remotely amusing and entertaining at times and help kill a portion of his weekend. From beginning to end the film is surprisingly captivating, thoughtful, shocking and human. At times it beautifully captures the awkward sexual tension and pubescent hormones of high school that have previously made teen comedy's like Superbad and American Pie  part of current pop culture and uncomfortably amusing in the most candid of ways. While being incredibly lewd, crude and rude at time, it has the ability to magically transition into a dark crime thriller with morally ambiguous overtones, while playing on twisted views of pain, justice, vengeance and doing right while being humanely insecure and barely competent. A reviewer wasn't too far-off when  he referred to it as Tarantino-esque at times. The werewolf would throw in a dose of John Woo for good measure. Never has the werewolf seen a film that went from being enjoyably un-serious to shockingly brutal and heavy in the blink of an eye, and managed to make the transitions smooth as silk. The film has too many layers to adequately cover in this review, yet the werewolf wants to give a paw-pump to the best part of the was watching the 11 year-old Chloe Moretz break some sort of cinematic barrier as she is the real show stealer. There is something new and jaw-dropping about watching some girl barely out of the 6th grade referring to a bunch of heroine pushers as "cunts" before ruthlessly and brutally dispatching each of them, while using curse words with a poetic edge the worthy of Richard Pryor. Cute, charming, shocking, jarring and unforgettable. Regardless of what kind of film you prefer, Kick-Ass is a real genre bender that will quickly develop a much deserved cult following, if not actually breaking into the ranks of the mainstream on some levels.

This film is not for the faint-of-heart or weak of stomach as it features several sequences of graphic violence, drug use, foul language, sex, masturbation, torture and even our little 11 year-old heroine getting brutalized.

DARK OF THE SUN(1967) Original Theatrical Trailer

Wow. This movie looks incredible. The werewolf read and enjoyed the Wilbur Smith novel of the same name several years ago and wonders to what obscure vault this film has been banished and why.

He is aware that two other Wilbur Smith novels Shout at the Devil and Gold had been ttranslated into obscure films, featuring Roger Moore and Lee Marvin. However, this film has somehow slipped through the cracks of recognition and acknowledgment. It is definitely on must-watch list, even if he has to scrabble to find a VHS version and watch it in some halfway house.

The werewolf finds few tales are as compelling and fascinating as those of mercenaries in post-colonial Africa, imagined or real. Ever since he was a whelp, such tales have played to both his darkest and most passionate musings and aspirations of himself and on humanity. It's been a consistent interest that never chills or gets too hot in intensity. The werewolf has always been captivated by the storied endeavors of Mike Hoare and Bob Denard. Simon Mann, or what's left of him, is someone he would like to have drink with some day.

Iron Man 2: Trailer

Although he enjoyed reading some comic books as a little boy, the werewolf has been profoundly disappointed by most comic books translated into film over the past decade. In fact, he has little interest in most of them anymore. The exceptions being Chris Nolan's rebooted Batman franchise, the refreshingly pessimistic and dark Watchmen (which nobody liked but the werewolf), and Iron Man.

While he did't love the first installment of Iron Man, he found it generally decent and watchable as an experiment in cinematic escapism. Iron Man owes its' acceptability to the infinite and quirky charm of one of the werewolf's favorite actors, the human train-wreck that is Robert Downey, Jr. Beyond having an incredible soundtrack appropriately provided by the grand masters of hard rock, AC/DC, which unto itself causes a loud blip on the werewolf's radar; this new installment features Mickey Rourke, Scarlett Johansson, and Samuel Jackson.

Like Robert Downey, Jr., Mickey Rourke is one of the werewolf's favorite Hollywood fuck-ups. Back in the day, Rourke proved his awesomeness in Diner, The Pope of Greenwich Village and Angel Heart. Sure he has had to reinvent himself almost as much as Madonna over the last three decades, but he pulls it off. From what little the preview shows, he seems well-suited to play some filthy, soul-less Russian villain. Check!

Scarlett Johansson is just incredibly sex-able. The werewolf would go to great lengths to woo and mount her, should the unlikely opportunity ever present itself. Check!

Samuel Jackson has been the werewolf's favorite angry black-man since he saw Coming to America and Pulp Fiction many moons ago. Hence, the werewolf just watches him in hope that he'll pull some righteous "Ezekial 25:17" whoopass on someone.Check!

Anyhow, between the promising music, imrpessive cast, and hopefully some cheese-dick comic book action, the werewolf is not ashamed to allow his inner geek out and line-up for Iron Man 2 next month.

Perdicaris alive or Raisuli dead! - The Wind And The Lion (Original Trailer)

As he cryptically suggested a few weeks ago via this post, The Wind and The Lion is perhaps the finest film the werewolf has ever seen that captures the essence of American exceptionalism and entrance onto the global stage as a power player. The werewolf never truly understood why John Milius’s 1975 adventure classic never made it big as the iconic American classic. let's not fool ourselves, it is without question the epitome of cinematic awesomeness. If the werewolf were a history teacher (something that may not be to far off in this economy), this film would be required viewing for his poor students.

The film is an adventure classic of the highest order. Take 2 parts Barbary pirates, 2 parts innocent American ex-pats, 1 part U.S. Marines, a dash of scheming and ruthless European imperialists, a twist of decadent Muslim sheiks, a whole lot of exotic Moroccan landscapes, and throw in 2 parts of  Teddy Roosevelt in the raw for good measure, shake it up and serve on a screen. On those merits alone, it rates highly. Now imagine Sean Connery, Candance Bergen (in her pre-Murphy Brown prime), Brian Keith as Teddy Roosevelt, and the man with the greatest voice ever, John Huston, as Secretary of State John Hay. Like a classic cocktail mixed to perefection, you will not be disapointed by the cinematic brilliance that ensues.

The Wind and the Lion - American ascendancy and exceptionalism

Stunning and epic. This incredible scene from The Wind and Lion never ceases to amaze.

Finally, The Academy gets something right.

The Hurt Locker, a film seen by very few people, did deservedly well at the Oscars last night. This simple fact made the werewolf sit on his haunches and allow for an uncharacteristicly long smile. Here is an excellent piece by Nile Gardiner at The Daily Telegraph that articulates the virtues of why this win is worthy. 

It was during high school that the werewolf realized how fakakta the Academy really was when the vapidly pleasant Shakespeare in Love usurped the profound and epic Saving Private Ryan for best picture. He's been a raging skeptic ever since. He was glad that Avatar was rightfully overlooked, as it should have been. It is the small things that make us smile sometimes.

Bond Title Sequence: On Her Majesty's Secret Service

To those that know him, it is no secret that the werewolf is an enthusiastic Bond fan. When he was a whelp, the werewolf's parents made the wise decision to allow him to watch all of the Bond films he could tolerate. Not only did this inform a young werewolf's sense of style (Connery), reinforce his love for the ladies, and cement his anti-communist credo, but it made him a wonderful and young jerk with an attitude. By the age of six or seven, the werewolf had committed most of the Bond films to memory, including the skiing scenes in On Her Majesties Secret Service, A View to A Kill, For Your Eyes Only and The Spy Who Loved Me. Based purely on the fact that he had watched Bond ski in four different films, the young werewolf was convinced that he himself could ski. Looking back on it, I can't think of a more ridiculous, arrogant, or asshole way to conduct myself. Needless to say, after a spectacular wipe-out, the werewolf whelp was ready to abide by his mother's advice and take skiing lessons.

Over the years, the werewolf's consistent love for the Bond franchise has manifested and matured in different ways including several failed attempts at romancing worthy young women with crass and crude one-liners. Alas, those tales merit a different post.

The werewolf has often felt that On Her Majesties Secret Service is the most under-appreciated Bond film. This isn't an attempt to glorify George Lazenby, he still sucks. Rather it is a testament to the film's captivating plot-line, which is unusually strong for a Bond film, along with the sensational beauty of Dianna Rigg (the werewolf's all time favorite Bond girl), and the clever villainy of  Telly Savalas as Bond arch-nemesis Blofeld. The music in the score along with Louis Armstrong's contribution of "We Have All the Time In World" are unreal. Anyhow, the werewolf loves the inter-franchise historical highlights captured in this Bond films opening sequence. Thoughts?

Nostalgia: Army of Darkness Trailer

God Bless B-Movies! Between heavily influencing pop culture via its plethora of one-liners, representing the pinnacle of Bruce Campbell's acting career and launching director Sam Rami's , and being a damn fun film, Army of Darkness is one the great legacies of the 1990's.

Shop Smart! SHOP S-MART!

UPDATE: The mean retards at Youtube have disabled the link embedded in the post. Sorry about that, folks. Here is an active link. 

The werewolf sees The Wolfman

Like any good misanthrope, the werewolf enjoys a decent horror flick. While most of his fellow males had surrendered their masculinity and submitted to the irrational desire of their significant others to watch a exercise in vapidity like Valentine's Day, the werewolf was front and center at The Wolfman. Exile helps him keep his priorities aligned.

The Wolfman is an very mediocre exercise in cinema. It has enjoyable moments, is a tad atmospheric at times, and portrays a graphically disturbing metamorphosis to complement a healthy body count.  However, the tension in the plot is forced, the love story hollow and needless, and Anthony Hopkins just seemed bored with his role.

Hopkins, a legendary and versatile actor, captivated audiences with his rendition of super-psychiatrist turned fiendish cannibal, Hannibal Lector, and has played the Victorian era master of the occult and vampire hunter, Abraham Van Helsing like it was his second skin. He was either under-utilized by the director or is getting to the point where acting gigs are just a paycheck and vehicle to pass the time. It wasn't a heinous performance per say, just far below the expectations that one usually harbors from an actor of Hopkins caliber. 

Additionally, the werewolf struggles with Benicio del Toro (Benny the Tuna). He just isn't that likable for some reason. It's as if he blends Latin greasiness with an empty identity,  that makes wanting to like or appreciate him an activity for manyana mañana.

However, some credit ought  to be slung on Hugo Weaving, who plays the tenacious Scotland Yard inspector trying to solve the case. Weaving, made famous by his roles as Elrond in The Lord of the Rings and Agent Smith in The Matrix, brings a focus and determination that is lacking elsewhere in the movie. Still Weaving isn't anywhere enough to elevate The Wolfman beyond mediocre and best rented and watched over some pizza and beer. The ending was left open for a sequel. Odds are, if ever conceived, it is direct to DVD.

Best movie of the last decade - Thank you for Smoking - Trailer

Witty. Clever. Honest. Refreshing. Thank you for Smoking is the werewolf's favorite film of the last decade. It is also one of the few examples of a cinematic translation usurping the book from which it is based on nearly all fronts. That is a distinction that is hard to come by. If you haven't seen it yet, do yourself a favor and buy it. It's a keeper.

Funny Friday: Caddyshack clip

One of many clips that make this film eternal in its humor. Enjoy.

Zulu - Final Attack - Great Scene

The werewolf didn't want to leave the few readers of this blog hanging after the powerful, but gloomy opening of the film Zulu, so above please find the famous last battle sequence. Although this portion of the Battle of Rorke's Drift is considered the most fictionalized part of the film, it is still poweful in conveying essence of what makes the battle so epic in the annals of military history. There is also something captivating about the two opposing forces dueling via song and chant that captures the humanity of this scene so well.

Here's a little trivia for the true film connoisseurs out there. You'll notice chant used by the Germanic tribes featured at the beginning of the film Gladiator is the exact same chant used by the Zulus. It's a neat tribute to Zulu.

Finally, for the audiophiles, get a taste of the score from Zulu here. Awesome.

This Day in History: Battle of Rorke's Drift and the opening scene of Zulu.

One of the greatest war film openings of all time somehow seems fitting. Today marks the 131st anniversary of the Battle of Rorke's Drift. It was one of the defining moments for both the British Empire, and some historians argue the west writ large. The werewolf is an unapologetic military and imperial history buff, and a huge fan a classic war films. Richard Burton's dour voice-over along with the scenes of the devastation of the annihilated British column pave the way to one of most timeless cinematic experiences out there. Not to mention, it was one of Michael Caine's breakout roles.

Imagine roughly 130 English soldiers at a trading post in the middle of hostile Zulu country, about forty of whom are wounded or ill, getting the news of the total annihilation of their main force a few miles away. On top of that bad news, they learn that 4000 Zulu's are bearing down on them and Zulu culture does not permit prisoners to be taken. They are low on ammunition, in a weak tactical position, and going up against an emboldened warrior nation that outnumbers them more than 35 to 1. Intense.

It many regards, Rorke's Drift is a Victorian era version of the Battle of Thermopylae. The legacy of the battle showed that extreme discipline and cohesion allowed the British to successfully repel enough Zulu assaults to allow time for reinforcements to arrive. A great moment in military history when David routes Goliath. Can you dig it? The werewolf sure as hell can.

The Color of Money: What the heck happened to Tom Cruise?

Although a creature with a night streak, the werewolf has found that one of exile's nasty side effects is occasional, yet, acute insomnia. He'll probably have to start self-medicating if it persists.

This scene from The Color of Money is one of the werewolf's favorites. Warren Zevon's Werewolves of London is blasting, that unto itself is epic. Ahhwooooo....

Plus, anything with Paul Newman is cool.

However, it reminds the werewolf that Tom Cruise used to be a respectable actor and begs the question, what the hell happened?

Although the werewolf has always gravitated more towards Steve McQueen, Gregory Peck, Cary Grant, Sean Connery, and other actors who represent man at his best, he recognizes talent when he sees it. The energy of Tom Cruise's hustle in this scene is phenomenal. The werewolf also grew up on films like Top Gun, Risky Business, Rain Man, and A Few Good Men. Plus, he appreciates Cruise in Jerry Mcguire and Collateral, and the point of the post isn't to berate Cruise for the latest series of bad movie choices(no shortage of those), but to just lament how a likable actor like Cruise, has lost his mojo, credibility, and respect.

Between all of the weird and excessive Scientology ties, the bizarre publicity shenanigans around his marriage to Katie Holmes, the deep-sixing of Nicole Kidman, the juvenile stunts on Oprah, and just a weird modern presence, Cruise's stock is trading very low on the werewolf's exchange. The werewolf doesn't want to hate the guy who etched Maverick, Joel Goodsen, Vincent Lauria, or Jerry Maguire into his young impressionable mind. However, every time he sees Cruise in a modern context, even in the trailer for an upcoming film, the werewolf get's a weird and creepy vibe. The werewolf can't put his paw on it, because he still enjoys and respects some of Hollywood's human train-wrecks, like Robert Downey, Jr. Perhaps it's just the sad state of modern celebrity, but somewhere along the line Tom Cruise lost control of his brand value, or it lost him.

The Dawn of the New Stupid: 'Cop Out' Trailer - Bruce Willis - Tracy Morgan

The werewolf loses faith in humanity on a weekly basis. The latest occurrence stemmed from this trailer. The fact that the first thirty-five seconds of the trailer for Cop Out are spent praising classic cop flicks like Dirty Harry, Training Day, and The Departed (which have nothing to do with Cop Out) as shared studio releases is indicative of how awful this film is going to be. They are resting on the laurels that your positive recall of these solid flicks will drown out the mind numbing impact of the vacant pulp you're about to be subjected to. Weak ploy. Beyond the fact that they can find no living person to say anything nice about this product nice speaks volumes, and it shows the studio's desperation. Yikes.

However, as the completely vacant trailer progressed, the werewolf wondered if he was watching the actual implosion of Bruce Willis's career -how tragic- and was snapped out of the internal eulogizing by the chorus of laughter erupting from the audience at anything Traci Morgan did on screen. Beyond small doses of 30 Rock, Traci Morgan is the new millennium's reincarnation of Pauly Shore. The werewolf began to wonder, has he lost all sense of what's funny, or are we entering the dawn of the new stupid? It's a no brainer. Not even an aggressive dose of nitrous oxide could get the werewolf to laugh during this spasm of film making. Judge for yourself. But take it from the werewolf, it ain't pretty.

Hollywood plans to murder another part of my childhood. "A-Team Intro"

Let's be perfectly honest with ourselves. With a few modern exceptions, the 1980's was the height of syndicated television. The American viewing public was blessed with television shows like MacGuyver, Airwolf, The Equalizer, Murder She Wrote, Miami Vice, Magnum P.I., and the Dukes of Hazard. It was also supported by early morning cartoons like Transformers, Thundercats, and G.I. Joe. It was the perfect time to grow up in these United States.

The A-Team, in particular, is a strong testament to television of yore. Every time he watches the original intro to the A-Team, the werewolf's blackened heart lifts slightly with a few beats of joy. During the late 1980's and early 1990's, the good folks at channel 5 in Los Angeles had syndicated reruns of the the A-Team at 3pm, right when a young werewolf got home from his episcopal elementary school. After bolting to the kitchen to get a Capri-sun or Fruit Roll Up treat, the werewolf would plant himself in front of the television and watch the A-Team. It was the perfect reward for surviving another day of elementary school. Even as a young boy, the werewolf noticed that every episode of the A-Team had the exact same plot. The team has a close encounter with the military police, whom they evade, they then either go to a rough part of downtown L.A., or some boring suburb to find out that some honest small-time family oriented entrepreneur, or community do-gooder is being harassed and shaken down by some nefarious criminal element. After sizing up the bad guys, the team goes to a junk yard, and builds some sort of super arsenal from a discarded Chevy Caprice hulk, a gas pump, some spare parts, and and proceeds to have a battle where they spectacularly route the bad guys in question. Epic in its consistency. Added bonuses included the A-Team's ring leader, Hannibal Smith, incorporating at least three cool disguises, smoking a cigar, and exclaiming "I love it when a plan comes together!", followed by the business development guy, Templeton "Faceman" Peck, always getting the girl. The team's pilot and resident maladjusted weirdo, "Howling Mad" Murdoch, would talk to himself, dress in drag, and creep the hell out of the the team's muscle, mechanic, and token black guy, "B.A" Baracus, (played perfectly by MR. T), whom would frequently tell Murdoch to "Shut up, Foo!" and bust through a wall. It was the perfect formula to guide an eight year old through his weekly afternoon siesta. Being a native of Los Angeles, the werewolf loves the retro shot of the 1980's L.A. skyline in the opening credits, and still finds the 67lbs of gold jewelry that B.A. Baracus allegedly wore through the jungles of Vietnam to be a great source of comic relief.

However, much to the eternal horror of the werewolf, he recently learned that in a fit of uncreative idiocy and desperation, the bozos in Hollywood will be releasing an A-Team movie this summer. Check it here. It's one thing to revive classic movie franchises like Star Trek and James Bond, both which Hollywood has done with some success lately. However, poaching hyper-formulaic syndicated television shows for the big screen is a sign of massive decline. First of all, by it's very nature, there really isn't enough content for more than about 37 minutes of A-Team execution time. That's what made it so beautiful. It was a one-hour date with little boy escapism. Secondly, certain personas just can't be replicated. Taking some mean looking burly black guy, giving him a mohawk, 67lbs of gold jewelry, and some bad attitude doesn't make him Mr. T. Mr. T is the god-father of bling himself, which the rappers shamelessly co-opted, plus he is an established icon, he is the D-rated minority version of John Wayne. Still, he is a class unto himself. Beyond that, as much as the werewolf loves Liam Neeson, he is no George Peppard. George Peppard is a one-of-a-kind B-rated debonair gentleman , whose sunset acting career cruise as Hannibal Smith is a legacy best left untouched. Like most shows of the 1980's, the A-Team was a product of carefree justice meets nifty urban action in an era where political correctness was still dormant on daytime television. It was okay to be a roguish "soldier of fortune" with a case of AK-47's in your trunk looking for a fight. That just doesn't fly in this day and age. Sadly.

The werewolf's final point is looking at what happened to G.I. Joe. His favorite cartoon as a little boy, G.I. Joe, was transmogrified from the ultimate patriotic childhood 1980's cartoon to quite possibly the worst film ever made. It went from being a neat collection of American and international bad-asses, fighting terrorism, each with their own distinct skills and hyper-individuality, to the unwatchable cinematic abortion of globalist vapidity and boring special effects conformity. It was clearly written by a lobotomized orangutan looking for a rotten banana. Watching G.I. Joe's cinematic interpretation last summer was akin to watching my childhood home get napalmed. A part of me died in the cinematic blaze. I fear Hollywood doesn't know when to quit, especially when it is far behind, and will proceed with Hannibal Lector like efficiency to dispatch everything I hold dear from my childhood, one item at time. Nothing is sacred in this day and age.

Will the next Bond flick be on a "Road to Perdition," or captive to an "American Beauty?"

Sam Mendes to direct next Bond pic.

A friend recently sent me the this from The Hollywood Report on the latest development involving the 23rd Bond installment. Although, not an uber-devout Sam Mendes fan, the werewolf thinks this bodes well for next Bond film.While American Beauty was somewhat dark, twisted, and enjoyable, it was also incredibly overrated. It's indictment of middle class suburban conformity was drowned out by the psycho kid in a beanie constantly filming plastic bags blowing in the wind. The Road to Perdition, which incidentally features Daniel Craig as a villain, has an incredibly magnetic narrative, and qualifies as a damn decent film on all levels. This leads us to the fate of Bond 23. The werewolf thinks that as long as it is better than Quantum of Solace, (which shouldn't pose a challenge for a director like Mendes) everything will be alright.

The werewolf has been a disciple of all things Bond since about the age of three. Especially Connery's presence as Bond. The werewolf's sense of style, automotive preferences, and other social assumptions are highly predicated on the first several Bond installments, along with most of Fleming's Bond novels and novellas. He'll leave his scathing criticism of the ridiculous Pierce Brosnan Bond years for another post, but he does want to direct some legitimate ire at Quantum of Solace's confused and messy translation onto the big screen. Following 2006's Casino Royale, and its smashing reinvigoration of the then rudderless Bond franchise, the werewolf thought that Hollywood had finally gotten something right. That assumption was promptly blown apart by Quantum of Solace.

The werewolf's primary concern is the blurring of the James Bond and Jason Bourne franchises. Granted, Quantum of Solace is the only theatrical release highlighting this claim. Quantum of Solace over-emphasized a series of confusing, crack fueled action sequences throughout several portions of the film without ever really unfolding a plot or sense of direction. It was one part revenge, one part poorly executed nostalgia, and one part high velocity Jason Bourne action, with very little of the gritty essence that made Casino Royale such a thrilling and worthy film.

Don't get the werewolf wrong, the Bourne films, despite their distinctive anti-American positioning, and the continual and unoriginal "the CIA is at the root of all evil plot lines," are fun. Although the third Bourne installment, The Bourne Ultimatum, possessed such violent and shaky camera work that the werewolf nearly slipped into an epileptic fit during some of the chase sequences. It is crucial for Hollywood to remember that Bond is not Bourne, despite both being super spy assassins.

Bourne is a man without an identity, perpetually in search of who he is/was. No past, uncertain future, and profound insecurities about his gift for killing. There is no specific mission portfolio, he was indelibly damaged by all sorts of strange psychological programing, and although an uber-badass, his story is that of lost soul looking for home. He is in many ways a rejection of most things American and all things super-spy, while being well packaged into a trio of decent action flicks.

Bond is the exact opposite. Beyond the simple fact that he is an Englishman. He is man who knows exactly who/what he is and is extremely comfortable in that role. He is Her Majesty's foremost double-0 assassin and he is damn good at it. Everything he does, he does for England. Whereas Bourne is constantly searching for who he is, Bond is constantly trying to improve and hone his skill sets. To apply a business school term from my operations class, Bond is the human embodiment of kaizen. Bond isn't without his pitfalls, we learn that once in a blue moon, he gets a little soft and actually likes one of the women he beds, but always corrects course quickly, and reemerges a stronger, better killing machine. Bond also has a defined background. He is an accomplished naval officer, orphan, card player, vice aficionado, womanizer, well heeled and groomed gentlemen, with a roguish suaveness, and classically inclined killing streak. He is the uber-patriot who will accept any mission for his country, and do whatever it takes to complete that mission. As we've seen, he even has a flair for bending the rules, when needed to execute the task at hand.

Beyond sultry and devilishness temptresses, British sports cars, tailored Savile Row suits, his Walther PPK, sharp wit, and killer instinct, Bond should avoid any DNA transfusions from Bourne. He needs to carve out his own niche, while maintaining a connection to his established legacy. Bond's direction can evolve with the times, as it should. The Cold War has ended. New global threats from Islamic jihadists, global drug cartels, and rogue states partly define the new security paradigm, and Bond can rise up to those challenges on his terms. I just hope that Mendes, and the writers for this installment, push Bond down a road toward perdition, more than having him contemplate and reenact a Jason Bourne cameo in American Beauty.