Bond, James Bond

I’ve watched every single James bond movie ever made. Even that Sean Connery one that isn’t considered part of the set. I am a Bond fanatic. Apparently, so is my grandmother so you could say that it’s in my genes.

So, of course, after a late dinner, I still dragged myself out to see Quantum of Solace, a mouthful of a name, in a local Yonkers theater with my husband and my little sister. My husband doesn’t think Quantum was as good as Casino Royale with its witty repartee but all in all, we enjoyed ourselves. As promised by reviews I’d read, the director’s quick cuts and jarring camera angles gave us a bit of motion sickness.

A day later, I find myself wishing I had unlimited funds lying around so I could see the topsyturvy film again and again. If I was willing to give up my expensive Lactaid milk, maybe I could afford to strap myself into a theater seat with some popcorn. My sister’s last observation as we walked out of the theater she was utterly upset by the lack of nudity in the film as Daniel Craig may not be the prettiest Bond, she finds that he is certainly the most fit and rugged. I guess it’s hard to please everyone.

P.S. Expect the worst Bond song ever.

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