While we’re doing films, I suppose I should get this off my chest: OK, it’s a good film in fact it is a great film. It’s just not a Bond film.

I’ve got some ranting to do here, so excuse the lack of narrative flow.

Casino Royale has just had its opening weekend here in the UK and it’s the HIGHEST GROSSING FIRST WEEKEND FOR ANY BOND FILM EVER!!!. That’s because cinema tickets are even more expensive than they were three years ago when Die Another Day came out. Also, since when has the weekend started on a Thursday? That’s when I watched it, along with a load of other mugs who netted the cinemas £1.7m on the first day / preview.

Daniel Craig is undoubtedly a fine actor. I was particularly impressed with him in the virtually unseen The Trench. He has also put in some time to go to the gym, which is something I certainly don’t have the discipline to do. He also looks bloody great in a suit while toting advanced automatic weaponry. I’m not so sure about the whole swimming trunk issue – if you want equality, fine, but that means some girls in bikinis too – that’s how equality works. The whole taciturn, monosyllabic persona is great for Jason Bourne – or possibly The Terminator, but this is Bond, with a cheesy quip for every situation: Sean Connery’s – “That’s quite a nice little nothing you’re almost wearing. I approve.” George Lazenby – “this never happened to the other guy” (perhaps Craig was thinking of that when he was putting on his trunks). Roger Moore – elevated eyebrow, Pierce Brosnan – “I thought Christmas only came once a year. It takes Craig the entire film to unfreeze his face for long enough to say “Bond, James Bond.”

Then the gadgets – oh well. James Bond is not a real person. He was never meant to be, he is a construct and a very important part of that construct is the gadgets. He is defined more by the car he drives and the clothes he wears than he is by his hair-colour or physique. To take this away from him is to empty him out rather than “strip him back” as everyone is so fond of saying of Craig-Bond. To be honest I’ve not been happy with the whole Aston Martin thing since Ford bought Aston Martin, the 1964 DB6 is a great hand-built bit of kit. The DBS is built in bulk for dull bankers who need something to blow their bonuses on. The whole travesty of the hire car at the airport is just completely beyond the pale. Okay Ford gave them £15m and a load of Jaguars and Astons, but Bond works for Queen and country, not for the highest bidder, and he is met the airport, not hanging about the Hertz desk while some fat tourists complain about their car not having a/c. So what have we got left? He has a defibrillator in the glove box of his car – old men with inappropriatly young wives have defibs in their glove boxes.

Eva Green is pretty easy on the eye, but her real name is better than her Bond name (Vesper Lind sounds like a limited edition chocolate moped (sorry Mr Fleming). Her accent was weird and all over the shop, and her motivation was pretty confused for one supposed to be so bright. And can we not have any more Bond falling in love? Please? Weirdly Lazenby and Rigg managed to pull it off, but really Bond is a swinger at heart and modern girls can get their kicks with them too. This debacle just makes the end of the film drag on and on.

Speaking of the ending, basically wtf! Bond films don’t end like that. They just don’t. I can’t believe I’m not allowed to spoil it for you, but I can take solace in the fact that it spoils itself.