Film Review: No Time to Die (2021)

The James Bond series, across its six‑decade tenure as a cornerstone of popular cinema, has never been afraid to change. From the suave, unflappable Connery era through the camp excesses of the Moore years to the gritty reboot initiated by Daniel Craig, the franchise has periodically attempted to ‘wipe the slate clean’ in response to shifting audience tastes and cultural mores. Yet the need for another such drastic reinvention has never been stronger than in the wake of 2021’s No Time to Die. Purportedly Craig’s final outing, the film does not merely conclude a five‑film arc; it delivers what is, for now at least, the actual curtain call for one of the most iconic characters in global popular culture. In striving to provide a definitive ending, however, No Time to Die ultimately exposes the exhaustion of its own creative trajectory, resulting in a bloated, tonally confused, and often dreary spectacle that brings the Craig era to a close not with a bang, but with a protracted whimper.

The plot, convoluted even by Bond standards, begins with a prologue set years earlier in Norway. A young girl named Madeleine (Coline Defaud) witnesses her mother being murdered by a mysterious masked assassin (Rami Malek) who spares the child’s life. Decades later, that girl is revealed to be Dr Madeleine Swann (Léa Seydoux), now a psychiatrist and the lover of a retired James Bond (Daniel Craig). Their Italian idyll is shattered when apparent SPECTRE operatives stage an attempt on Bond’s life, leading him to believe Madeleine has betrayed him. He severs their relationship and retreats into isolation.

Five years later, a team raids a secret MI6 laboratory in London, abducting the Russian scientist Valdo Obruchev (David Dencik) and samples of ‘Project Herakles’ – a nanobot bioweapon that targets victims based on their DNA. Bond’s old friend, CIA agent Felix Leiter (Jeffrey Wright), recruits him in Jamaica to track Obruchev in Cuba. There, with the help of effervescent CIA asset Paloma (Ana de Armas), Bond discovers Obruchev is actually in league with Lyutsifer Safin, the very assassin who spared Madeleine’s life. Safin, a scientist with his own agenda, seizes Herakles and orchestrates the death of SPECTRE’s imprisoned chief Ernst Stavro Blofeld (Christoph Waltz). Forced to work with his former boss M (Ralph Fiennes) and the new 007, Nomi (Lashana Lynch), Bond must stop Safin’s scheme. The stakes are raised when Safin’s men abduct Madeleine and her five‑year‑old daughter Mathilde (Lisa‑Dorah Sonnet), taking them to his island base in disputed waters between Japan and Russia. The final act sees Bond racing to rescue them, destroy the facility, and prevent a global catastrophe.

No Time to Die is unique among the twenty‑five official Bond films for providing something that could spell an actual end: James Bond dies. A decade ago, such an outcome would have been an unimaginable shock; here, it feels less a surprise than an inevitability. Skyfall (2012) began a process of ‘deconstructing’ the character, presenting him as a frustrated middle‑aged man grappling with vulnerabilities and childhood traumas. Spectre (2015) continued this trend, its forced personal connection to Blofeld further weighing down the hero with psychological baggage. By the time of No Time to Die, Bond has been stripped of the suave, confident masculinity that once defined him, reduced to a tired, disillusioned, and profoundly depressed figure who seems almost to greet death as a relief. His demise, accompanied by the deaths of side‑characters Leiter and Blofeld, is delivered with a great deal of pathos, making this the darkest of all Bond films and shattering the last vestiges of the escapist mythology upon which the franchise was built.

Yet there is a precedent for such a tragic conclusion in the series’ history. 1969’s On Her Majesty’s Secret Service – which is the most faithful of all adaptations of Fleming’s work – ended not with a victory but with the heart‑breaking murder of Bond’s new bride, Tracy. The producers of No Time to Die explicitly acknowledge this lineage by weaving John Barry’s haunting score and Louis Armstrong’s rendition of ‘All the Time in the World’ into the fabric of the film. The reference, however, serves largely to highlight how much less effectively the modern film earns its emotional weight. Where OHMSS built a genuine, compelling romance between Bond and Tracy (aided by Diana Rigg’s superb performance), No Time to Die struggles to make us care about Bond’s relationship with Madeleine, a problem rooted in fundamental shortcomings of character and casting.

The film’s central flaw is its inability to reconcile the demands of the classic Bond formula with the grim, deconstructive approach of the Craig era. Director Cary Joji Fukunaga, best known for the first season of True Detective, delivers some requisite elements competently: the pre‑title sequence in Norway is thrilling, the Cuba segment with Paloma provides a welcome burst of energy and humour, and the globetrotting itinerary (Jamaica, Norway, London, Cuba) checks the ‘exotic locations’ box. Yet the finale, set in Safin’s dour, concrete‑and‑rusted‑metal lair – a decaying Soviet‑era facility devoid of visual flair – renders the action perfunctory and unimpressive. The set‑piece climax, which should be spectacular, feels instead like a colour‑drained slog through anonymous corridors, a visual metaphor for the franchise’s drained vitality.

This tonal confusion extends to the treatment of Bond’s character. The script, discarding the womanising persona entirely, makes Bond boringly monogamous and, curiously, not particularly interested in pursuing romance or domestic bliss with Madeleine. This might have been a bold character choice had the chemistry between Craig and Seydoux crackled; unfortunately, the pair share not a spark of chemistry. Their interactions are wooden, their romance feels like a narrative obligation rather than a passionate connection. Consequently, the emotional stakes of the third act – hinging on the safety of Madeleine and a daughter Bond has only just discovered – feel manufactured, a desperate attempt to inject pathos through plot mechanics rather than earned sentiment.

Fukunaga, perhaps aware of this deficit, pads the runtime with extensive flashbacks and exposition to flesh out Madeleine’s background. The addition of Mathilde is a transparent device to raise the emotional stakes and provide a sliver of hopeful legacy to offset Bond’s demise. The result is a film that stretches to almost three hours, becoming excessively long and, in its ponderous middle sections, frankly boring. The narrative momentum sags under the weight of redundant backstory and a convoluted plot about nanobots and DNA targeting that feels both overly complicated and strangely mundane.

The Bond villain, traditionally a highlight, is another disappointment. Rami Malek’s Safin is a one‑note creation, more formidable when masked and mysterious in the prologue than when revealed as a soft‑spoken, motivationally vague megalomaniac. Malek can do little with a character whose agenda – a vague desire to use Herakles for… global change? personal revenge? – remains frustratingly opaque. Compared to the theatrical menace of Javier Bardem’s Silva in Skyfall or even the physical threat of Dave Bautista’s Mr. Hinx in Spectre, Safin is a pale, forgettable antagonist.

Even the film’s attempts to court a younger audience falter. The title song, co‑written and performed by Billie Eilish, is a whispery, down‑tempo ballad that lacks the grandeur or memorable hook of classic Bond themes. Its inclusion feels like a calculated bid for contemporary relevance, but it pales when juxtaposed with the timeless, melancholic power of Armstrong’s ‘All the Time in the World’, which is used to far greater effect within the film itself.

External circumstances also conspired against No Time to Die. Its release, originally scheduled for 2020, was delayed repeatedly by the COVID‑19 pandemic. When it finally arrived in cinemas in late 2021, its bleak tone – a story about a bioweapon and a hero embracing death – corresponded all too closely with the real‑world anxieties of lockdowns and mortality. While it achieved decent commercial results, an argument can be made that, in terms of cultural impact and audience affection, it is the least popular of the Craig films, and perhaps of the entire series.

In the end, No Time to Die is a film at war with itself. It wants to be a fitting, emotional farewell to a beloved iteration of Bond, yet it undermines that goal with a lifeless central relationship, a dull villain, and an overlong, sagging narrative. It attempts to honour Bond tradition while simultaneously deconstructing it into oblivion. By bringing closure to the Craig saga, it undoubtedly creates an opportunity for a fresh reinvention – a necessity given the creative cul‑de‑sac this film represents. The promise that ‘James Bond will return’ remains reassuring. But if the character is to regain his iconic status and cultural vitality, his return must be in a much better film than this.

RATING: 5/10 (++)

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