Though it was the most profitable James Bond film to date, Tomorrow Never Dies was widely considered a disappointment. Blasted by critics for its leaden action scenes, poor character development, and dearth of Bondian tongue-in-cheekery, it left most 007 lovers neither shaken nor stirred. Producer Barbara Broccoli heard the fans' cries and hired respected British director Michael Apted (Thunderheart, Gorillas in the Mist) to make a "new kind of Bond movie."
Did Apted succeed? Well, he got it half right. Sporting a refreshingly different story and an Aston Martin-ful of racy innuendoes, The World Is Not Enough is a good — but not great — addition to the Bond pantheon. It delivers excitement at moments, but Pierce Bronsan's third outing fails to live up to its own promise, joining Octopussy and Diamonds Are Forever in the second rank of 007 adventures.
World starts off with the biggest bang since Roger Moore's hair-raising ski-skydive in The Spy Who Loved Me, following an explosive attack on MI6's London HQ and a high-octane motorboat chase up the Thames. Killed in the assault is oil baron Robert King, a personal friend of Bond's boss M (Dame Judi Dench) and father of the alluring ingenue Elektra King (Sophie Marceau).
Intrigued by the stunning heiress, Bond soon learns she was kidnapped and tortured years ago by Renard (Robert Carlyle), a ruthless terrorist who, thanks to a bullet lodged in his cerebrum, happens to be impervious to pain. Believing Elektra to be in danger, 007 jaunts off to her company's exploratory pipeline project in Azerbaijan. Of course, it isn't long before the pair is doing some deep surveying of their own.
To tell any more would be to spoil what is one of the more original Bond plots since Goldfinger. Suffice it to say, the story soon involves Renard, some loose nukes, and the nubile — and very improbable — scientist Dr. Christmas Jones (Denise Richards). It also features an unusually large number of dramatic interludes, which, though intriguing at first, become grating as we itch for 007 to take his gadget-packed BMW for a spin. World also serves up many comic one-liners, most of which are risqué howlers (Brosnan's final quip is priceless) but some of which are clunky groaners (like when a plutonium rod-waving Renard growls, "Welcome to my nuclear family").
World is blessed with a uniformly talented cast (with one BIG exception) but the story doesn't always measure up to its characters' potential. Brosnan gives Bond an effortless charm not seen since Connery's heyday, and shows off some impressive emoting when confronted with a dilemma not seen since On Her Majesty's Secret Service. Marceau is easily the most dangerously sexy Bondgirl since Barbara Bach, flashing ample flesh and exuding the predatory sensuality of a jungle cat. Carlyle's quietly menacing Renard is a welcome change from the usual hammy megalomaniacs (for once his motive isn't to rule the world). However, you can't help wishing Apted had done more with his villain's pain-resisting abilities a la Rutger Hauer's near-invincible replicant in Blade Runner.
Ah, the exception. Though she has the silhouette of a pneumatic Barbie doll, Denise Richards sports a screen presence reminiscent of unflavored Jell-O. Atrocious even for a Bondgirl, her monotone delivery makes Tanya Roberts seem like Honor Blackman. Her stilted speeches on nuclear physics are laughable, and the wardrobe person who decided to costume her in jazzercise-like workout wear should undergo body hair removal with Auric Goldfinger's laser.
When he landed the World gig, surprised director Apted said "I'm not an action director." Though he proves himself wrong in the bravura opening sequence, which is among the best ever filmed, three of the remaining four action scenes disappoint. A picturesque alpine chase seems stilted, a missile-silo shoot-out is adequate, and a chainsaw-helicopter attack is inventive, but not impressive. Though thankfully free of exploding villains' headquarters, the underwater finale simply doesn't satisfy. The rest of Hollywood should follow The Matrix's lead and start importing action choreographers from where they make shoot-'em-ups best: Hong Kong. I'm not proposing a Bond-Fu movie, but a little John Woo-style gunplay would go a long way in keeping the series fresh. Car chases and slowly advancing fireballs are not enough.
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