Black Christmas (2006)

Bob Clark's horror Christmas movie Black Christmas (1974) is undoubtedly one of the greatest horror movies of its kind. It has a tremendous cast, a foreboding atmosphere consumed by Christmas, one of the greatest underrated slasher villains, extraordinary camerawork, a spine-chilling score and sound design, fun vulgar humor to balance out the terror, intelligent and risqué commentary that flows naturally with the story, and ahead of its time with the use of slasher tropes. It's a horror film that I believe is an underrated masterpiece. To celebrate its 50th anniversary, since I already reviewed the original classic, I think this would be the perfect time to review the 2006 remake.

The film's director, Glen Morgan, who was a fan of the original, wanted to genuinely direct a remake that was different but still paid loving tribute. Morgan received Bob Clark's blessings to direct the film and hired him as one of the film's executive producers. Set to make a film with a more serious tone, the film's distributors had other ideas. To bank on the success of gory horror films like Saw (2004) and Hostel (2005), the executives of Dimension Films, Bob and Harvey Weinstein, demanded that the film be a splatter film, causing numerous changes to the script. To his displeasure, the gritty suspense slasher film that Morgan had initially envisioned had turned into an over-the-top exploitation flick. 

But the Weinsteins' interference strangely didn't stop there. After production finished in Vancouver, the Weinstein shot scenes behind Morgan's back. Rather than shooting scenes that would be featured in the film, they were scenes designed for the trailer. Not a teaser trailer where footage specifically made for it is common practice, the film's theatrical trailers and TV spots were designed to make people think that what they're seeing are clips from the movie edited together to build hype and interest. Scenes such as the woman getting pulled into a thrasher with Christmas lights, the discovery of a frozen woman's face, and the reveal of the killer on top of a ceiling beneath his prey were all specifically made for the promos and mainly with actresses who are not even in the movie (including the studio's new star Jillian Murray).

The movie was released on Christmas Day; however, it wasn't because of the holiday. Considering how Weinstein Company horror films like Scream (1996) and Wolf Creek (2005) were financial successes around the holidays, the Weinstein's decided to do the same, only to have been met with more than just a decline at the box office as the weeks went by. The decision to release a holiday slasher film on Christmas stirred some controversy, with several Christian groups finding the idea of it "offensive, ill-founded and insensitive." Unhappy with the changes to the film made by the Weinsteins and the film failing critically and financially, it ultimately discouraged Glen Morgan from directing another movie again, who reportedly disowned the film. Though Morgan's film was butchered and has gained a negative reception amongst fans of the original, audiences, and critics, does this film deserve to be hidden in the attic with Billy's corpses?

Based on its premise, I'll give the remake credit for how familiar and different it is to the source material. The film is still about sorority women stalked and killed by a killer named Billy hiding in the attic of the house. But the film gives it a few new angles. Rather than having the story told through a few days, the events all happen in one night, allowing for a more claustrophobic setting with a strong sense of urgency now that the characters are most likely going to die quicker, and that the killer has more of the task to achieve it without raising suspicion. Given that most of the characters die on the final day of the original film, the change in time is all the more sensible. 

While the film spends a good portion of the time at the sorority house, most scenes away from the property are flashbacks showing the origins of the film's killer. The mystery surrounding Billy made his character such a horrifying slasher villain in the original. He was always kept in the shadows, his motives for killing the women are unknown, the reasons for the various voices he mimics and things he says to himself are ambiguous, and his backstory is never explicit. The lack of knowledge and imagery of this shadowy killer made the situation all the more intense and eerie because of how unpredictable his actions and behaviors are. To have the remake show Billy's backstory would take away everything that made him a fearful enigma, but given how the film is still a remake and not a sequel, the idea to expand on the villain is a refreshingly new take. As a fan of the original, I appreciate the film taking a risk to show a different perspective that will not please most die-hard fans of the Bob Clark film but give it more of an identity of its own and a purpose for existing. As long as the concept is handled well, and Billy is still as frightening and efficient as a killer, this idea can work well in its own right.

The influence for Billy's backstory came from the real-life serial killer Ed Kemper, who was locked in the basement by his abusive mother, who later took revenge by murdering her. In the film, Billy is born with severe jaundice that causes his skin to turn yellow; he lives with an abusive mother who hates him and a father who loves him. As a child, the mother and another man she has an affair with kill the husband and lock Billy in the attic. The mom gaining a daughter she loves and still treating Billy like a caged animal causes him to snap and murder her and her boyfriend and maim the daughter. Though not needed, the concept of the backstory is still not bad. The story itself is heartbreaking, and many things that connect to Billy murdering people in the present make sense. We know why he mimics voices and the random names he blurts. Billy, in the original, who seemed like a person who escaped an asylum, actually does escape from one in this movie. And the house he goes to is not any house but the place he was born and raised in. Did the attic need to be his room, considering it is the perfect place to hide? No, but it doesn't ruin or take away anything compared to the rest of the problems shown in the backstory.

Billy's yellow skin starts to serve as the reason why his mom hates him so much, and the color stands out when we see him as a baby. But afterward, Billy's unusual appearance becomes less of a visual identity for him. In a film where Christmas lights are shown to be shining bright, the film does not make Billy appear as colorful as he is typically in the shadows (and I also mean before he becomes a killer), where his yellow skin looks like natural lights are reflecting on him.  Due to this choice in lighting and seeing less of him as the film progresses, it becomes forgettable that Billy has a strange condition in the first place. In the few scenes where the color becomes noticeable, he looks like a dull, normal version of Roark Junior from Sin City (2005). There's little attention and payoff given to Billy's visual identity, which comes across as more of an afterthought. 

The same can be said about Billy getting raped by his mom. Oh yeah, the film goes there, with little reason. In fact, it was one of the scenes that the Weinstein's forcefully threw in, and it comes across that way, even without knowing it. The reason for the mom's horrific act is that her boyfriend is impotent, and Billy is the only other person in the house, which is so vaguely established that it's easy to miss. There's barely a clear mention of her motive, and the scene itself, as she's having sex with the boyfriend, goes by so fast that she sounds more annoyed that he's falling asleep rather than she can't have a kid with him, which makes her actions to rape her kid all the more random. Like his yellow skin, Billy, being the father of the child, his mom gave birth to, does not add anything. She could have had another child with the boyfriend she was happy with, and nothing would ever change, making this idea tastelessly pointless.

As I'm seeing young Billy getting traumatized, the performances ruin any emotional investment.  The acting is either incredibly dull or feels phoned in when it has to go bigger. The most significant offenses lean towards the kid playing Billy, where it seems, he was directed to have one expression, and that's to look serious. When receiving a present, there's no joy; when witnessing a murder, he looks unphased; and when climbing up to the attic to escape his murderous mom, he appears casual. The only times he seems genuinely scared is the shot of his eye when he sees the burial of his father and when he reaches the attic, but they're overall tiny moments.

When Billy becomes a killer, nothing stands out, just like the concept of giving him yellow skin. When Billy called the women on the phone in the original, he sounded more than an unhinged maniac for his blabbering and threats; he would sound inhuman with the sounds and voices he mimics, sometimes all at once. Those scenes are seriously some of the scariest phone call scenes ever to be placed on screen for how unnatural they are. In the remake, Billy sounds like some jerk who saw Scream and is trying to mimic it to prank a friend in the most pretentious way possible. And it doesn't help that his dialogue is the typical cliched threats you'd hear in most horror films of that kind. Oh, and remember how I said the incest subplot has little relevance to the story? Well, it is revealed that Billy is a cannibal during the flashback. I could never picture Billy ever being a cannibal, and neither does the film, because after he eats his mom Hannibal Lecter style, he never bites any of his victims or attempts to cook them, making the idea pointless. And in case you haven't guessed, yes, that was another pointless addition made by the Weinsteins to make it shocking.

Out of all the problems with how the film depicts Billy, none of them could measure up to the film's biggest let down. For all the time the film gives to Billy's origins, showing him escape from the asylum, and people talking about him as a legend, it turns out that most of the kills are not from him! Remember when I mentioned his daughter that he maimed, she's the one who kills most of the sorority women in the movie. How does a film spend so much time giving depth to a frightening ambiguous slasher villain and not even use him as the main killer? In hindsight, it makes all this depth feel like a cheap red herring, and it's even worse that little detail is brought to the film's main killer Agnes. The decision of having Agnes as a killer may sound like this was another liberty from the Weinsteins to taint Morgan's vision, but in actuality, Agnes was going to be the main killer in the original script. The reveal of Agnes would be in a twist like in this film, except that Billy would have been dead long before the events in the movie. I know I sound like I've been defending Morgan's original vision throughout the review, but this is one of Morgan's original decisions that is as much of a letdown as the final product. It was the Weinsteins that demanded Billy still be alive, and have two killers, where even that idea is as pointless as their other choices given how very few of the people he kills in the house after his escape. 

With Billy's physical appearance coming off as cheap gimmick that is boringly unfrightening, Agnes appearance is ridiculously silly and is still as dull looking like her father. She looks like a rejected henchman with long hair from a late 80s to early 90s action film, except without looking handsome or threatening, and has the face of one of the Wayan's brothers from White Chicks (2004). Not once do I ever buy that the person I'm looking at is the little girl I saw in the flashback all grown-up, for how goofy her make-up, hair, and personality is, and how masculine she looks and sounds. A significant factor to why Agnes is the way she appears, and sounds is because Morgan cast the camera operator Dean Friss who had no acting experience in a feature film, which certainly shows in the finished film. I'm sure Friss is good at his job, but this was awful casting as he doesn't resemble the character in anyway, nor can act it in a plausible way that is remotely scary.

One of the ingredients that made the original such a compelling horror film was its atmosphere. Although the original movie has a body count, there was more emphasis on the build-up to the scares with its festive yet quiet forbidding Christmas aesthetic, imaginative eerie score, and mystery, as opposed to gore and jump scares. As many horror remakes at the time were trying too hard to look dark and gritty to the point where there was hardly anything visually engaging, this film surprisingly does not fall under that trap. When it came to Christmas visuals in the original, it was constant but subtle; this film does the opposite by exploiting it every chance it gets. For the many shadows the film has, the Christmas lights bright up the screen, decorations are everywhere, the soundtrack is booming with Christmas music (particularly from The Nutcracker Suite), the sorority girls have a Christmas party as they open presents by the yule log, Christmas carolers sing in a hospital, and a guy dressed as Santa wanders around a criminally insane asylum (which somehow has a children's ward in the same building), with a patient thinking he's Jesus in one of the cells. The film wants to do everything possible to make itself clear that it is a Christmas movie, which certainly comes through and makes the film visually pleasing with its numerous colors, decorations, and activities.

The film looks a lot like Christmas, but is it scary? Despite its use of dark shadows juxtaposed with the bright colors, some neat Dutch angles, sweeping shots, and P.O.V.s, it looks and feels very overdone. As if the unsubtle Christmas imagery wasn't already a clue, this film is overdramatic in its directing. Everything is shot, framed, and lit to look intense in one of the most bombastic ways possible, where subtly is hardly ever a thing. Even when nothing terrible is happening, the film remains intense for no reason, therefore not allowing the interactions with the characters to feel like down-to-earth moments to provide a sense of absence. I was even more disappointed to discover that the music was composed by Shirley Walker (who helped make Batman: The Animated Series feel like a series of cinematic movies with her music) and that this was her last film project before her passing. Ordinarily, she's a fantastic composer, but in this film, it feels like she was instructed to make loud, scary noises with a hint of her classical talents, which is what it sounds like. And nothing about it sounds innovatively noisy, coming across as generic and obnoxious. When the film does find a way to build on a subtle creepy environment, the music usually gets in the way. In one scene, a snow globe in the attic is playing the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, which starts as chilling, until Walker's loud dramatic plays over it, sucking all the quietly intense anticipation felt.

If the film, with its visuals and sounds, comes across as trying too hard to scare, the murders committed are absurd. For those underwhelmed by the lack of gore in the original film, the remake loves to squeeze out as much of it as possible, and in some of the most bizarre ways you can think of. Eyes balls are gouged out; ice skates cause brains to splatter; there's strangulation with Christmas lights; a Candy Cane is used as a murder weapon; body parts decorate a Christmas tree; and Christmas cookies are made out of human flesh. The terror is replaced with disgust executed in the most outlandish ways possible, feeling less like a Black Christmas movie and more like an unrated Christmas Friday the 13th. That's not completely a bad thing, as some of these kills are inventive with some neat gore effects, if not scary. But the kills do get a bit repetitive, with the number of eyeballs lost and the killer using a bag only to pointlessly use a murder weapon (this confused method of killing is part of Billy's trauma that honestly didn't need an explanation).

If there was one thing about my review of the original film that has changed over time, it is my complaint that half of the supporting characters come across as forgettable. Okay, not many of them are precisely complex, but their colorful yet grounded personalities are more entertaining than I remember. In this film, the victims are as amusing as dirty slush. The sorority girls have no personality whatsoever, for how lifeless they're acting is, and any sign of character traits they have is underwritten. Each of them acts no differently from the other, making their roles interchangeable. Their chemistry is dry, and they have no real sense of emotion. The only sorority girl who stands out is the one with the glasses for how suspiciously weird she appears and yet has little screen time compared to the others. Morgan hired a famous comedian and one of the original actresses from the film, Andrea Martin, as the housemother, who would be perfect as this eccentric character, and even she is as empty of personality as the rest of the cast, as she too is given little to do. These characters are nothing more than livestock, and the film is anxiously willing to kill them off for the sake of carnage. The only thing to appreciate about the performances is that they allegedly did their own stunts.

I wish I could blame the failures of this remake on the Weinsteins, but the truth is the film would have failed just as much if Morgan hadn't had them interfering with his work. Morgan knows how to make the film look visually distinct, but fewer people would remember its existence given the soulless acting, irritating exaggerated dark tone, and disappointing twist. The Weinsteins undoubtedly made the film less scary because of how childishly extreme it is with its zany kills and needless scenes of disgust, which don't at all match with the serious tone Morgan is still trying to achieve. But as bad of a remake as the film is, I can't pretend that some of these outlandish decisions from the Weinsteins don't make the movie a little entertaining and memorable for how intriguingly gruesome they are. In terms of scares, tone, story, and character, as it tries to exceed past a classic, it's as dreadful of a remake as a fan of the original can imagine. Still, the film does have some neat new ideas (even though they fail in practice), is visually intriguing compared to most horror remakes that came out in the mid to late 2000s, and contains some impactful wild deaths and gory imagery, which all make the film stand-out if not necessarily saving it. If you're looking for a mindless slasher film that will constantly fill the screen with Christmas and gore, you'll find it amusing. And knowing about the creative clash between Morgan and the Weinsteins makes the film a more fascinating sleigh-crash.

Re-Review: The Last Waltz

Many positive things can be said about filmmaking during the 70s. The late 60s was a rebellious age for film, pushing past the censors and social norms and taking full advantage of giving the film a more surreal and abstract approach. The 70s was the age of new talent of aspiring filmmakers and actors making their mark in history by taking full advantage of filming material that would not be suitable to have screened to wider audiences ten years prior. One of the staples of innovative filmmaking during the era was the Rock N Roll concert films. While there have been a handful of famous and influential concert films and Rock N Roll documentaries released in the 60s, including Monterey Pop (1968), Don't Look Back (1967), and Festival (1967), the 70s was the golden age of the genre. There has yet to be no other decade for concert films and music documentaries that came close to having a long list of titles that are still remembered, studied, or celebrated. Titles include Woodstock (1970), Wattstax (1973), Gimme Shelter (1970), The Concert for Bangladesh (1972), The Kids Are Alright (1979), Let it Be (1970), and Elvis: That's the Way It Is (1970). One of the notable concert films from the era that receives many praises from audiences and critics and is still remembered fondly (even going as far as having musicians performing tribute shows based on the concert) is The Last Waltz (1978). 

One of the famous directors to spring from the 70s was Martin Scorsese, who proved his worth as a filmmaker through his urban crime dramas Mean Streets (1973) and Taxi Driver (1976). Scorsese enormously admired music, always wanting to make a film celebrating the art form in some way. There is no doubt that Scorsese's love of Rock N Roll and jazz was carried through the score for his films during the 70s, but in terms of directing a film based around it, he never sat in the chair. Before The Last Waltz, he worked on music films as an assistant director and editor, notably for the documentary Woodstock. The closest Scorsese would get to directing anything music-related was the musical drama New York, New York (1977), which he made shortly after Taxi Driver. While working on the musical, Scorsese's producer on Mean Streets, Jonathan T. Taplin, introduced him to Robbie Robertson, the lead guitarist of the Canadian American rock band known as The Band, with an opportunity to film their most important concert. 

The Band has spent sixteen years on the road performing in various venues across the country. With members experimenting with heroin and tension rising between Robertson and the Band's drummer Levon Helm, Robertson felt it was time The Band went on their separate ways. At least in terms of playing live. Before doing so, Robertson felt The Band should go out in style by having a grand farewell concert called The Last Waltz held in the venue where The Band first played under their band name, the Winterland Ballroom. What was originally going to be just The Band performing, Robertson invited special guest artists that launched their careers, Ronnie Hawkins, and Bob Dylan. Eventually, Robertson felt the need to ask more artists to make their last concert a celebration of sixteen years of music than a somber farewell. The task of documenting such a big concert with no alternate takes and no contract or pay intimidated Scorsese but excited him enough not to want to miss a golden opportunity. 

The film opens with a title card suggesting the film "Should be played loud," which is all capitalized, building up the excitement for the concert that will soon be presented. This disclaimer also feels like a title card that French New Wave filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard would use if he created a concert film for the period for how self-aware and direct it is. Scorsese's influence from the French New Wave would appear continuously in many of his movies, including Taxi Driver, The King of Comedy (1982), and Mean Streets. The first scene starts with one of The Band members, Rick Danko playing a billiards game of "Cut Thorat" as the others stand aside watching him. There are no introductions to any members, nor is it established where they are hanging out for the interview. Most of the focus is on Rick, as the rest of The Band only appears in one brief shot. The scene's audio is relatively low and quiet, subtly implying that the film's disclaimer was not meant to just blast the music but hear the interviews clearly. The sound of billiard balls clash against each other as the sound of an audience's applause off-screen gets louder and louder each time a ball hits another, with quick edits for each shot, prepping up the first concert scene. The first concert scene is shot with Robbie Robertson's back facing the camera, speaking into a microphone to the audience in front of him with the spotlight shining brightly on him. What looks like the first song of the concert is their last through Robbie's dialogue. Surprised that the audience is still waiting for them to do an encore after performing for hours, Robbie and The Band agree to do one last song to close the celebration. Rick Danko wishes everyone a "Happy Thanksgiving," and The Band proceeds to play a grand cover of Marvin Gaye's Don't Do It. During the number, each member of The Band is introduced through capitalized title credit of their name as they play their signature instrument to associate unfamiliar audiences with them. In reality it was end, but on film, the concert's finale feels like the beginning through Scorsese's choice to introduce The Band in their last song. 

After The Band leaves the stage bidding everyone good night, the next scene is in broad daylight on the streets of San Francisco with The Last Waltz theme playing on the soundtrack. Scorsese does not use any spectacular camerawork or editing when capturing San Francisco. The neighborhoods where the Winterland Ballroom is located appear seedy and runned down. To capture the grittiness of these environments, Scorsese uses a handheld camera to film buildings and people waiting in line to get into the theatre through the car's windshield and opened passenger seat window. Many of the people caught on camera react to being filmed by either waving or approaching the camera while in line to get inside the theater or hanging on the street corners far away from the theater, suspiciously wondering why they are being filmed. What appears to be a long journey that was done in one shot is broken up through a series of jump cuts to bring the audience faster and closer to the Winterland Ballroom. After the ride, it is nighttime, and Scorsese shoots one shot of the theater's neon-lit sign that has seen better days. The image of the sign fades out to reveal the film's opening credits at first presented in front of a black background as a couple waltz past the first few frames of credits. After showing the film's title with the couple now waltzing on the right side, the scene fades out and fades in to show the couple dancing among a crowd of other people as each special guest’s credit appears. The couple disappears in the crowd through a dissolve as the camera captures the other people on the dance floor waltzing. The camera makes its way to the orchestra’s conductor (with the aid of a few dissolves) conducting the waltz. Another dissolve leads to a disco ball spinning brightly above the crowd, to the music ending with an establishing wide shot of the entire Winterland Ballroom with fancy chandeliers (some used in Gone with the Wind (1939)), and tables where people dine. Compared to how Scorsese captured the unpleasant exteriors of the Winterland Ballroom and its surroundings in low quality, the glamorous ballroom inside the theatre where the stage is set and couples dance looks like a fairy tale. The contrast between both environments and its transition to beauty plays as a metaphoric rags-to-riches story of The Band's road to fame. The theater itself feels like a character in this sequence as if we are watching the story of Cinderella with the theater as the title character transform for a concert instead of a ball with Bill Grangham (who decorated the Ballroom) as the Fairy Godmother, and The Band as Prince Charming. 

The opening credits sequence is the only time the film captures the people at the concert before the show. Since the concert did take place during a holiday, a few hours before the show would start, audiences would have a Thanksgiving buffet with multiple turkeys and a dance floor with a live orchestra where they could dance. The couple shown waltzing in the opening credit sequence was not actors; they were locals who were caught on camera when Scorsese's crew were taking footage of the people before the show. Scorsese thought they were such a cute couple that he went around San Francisco asking the locals about the couple's whereabouts with photos he had taken from the scene so that they could be featured in the opening credits. Eventually, he found the two dancers and brought them to Los Angeles on a soundstage to film them solo for the opening credits. Apart from people waltzing for thirty seconds, there is little capture of the audience's activity before the show. In fact, during the concert, they are shown even less. Many concert films, especially Woodstock and Monterey Pop, usually show footage of audiences participating through cheering, dancing, or getting high. Scorsese never cuts away from The Band or guest performers to show the audience engaging with the show. Their applauses are heard but never shown up close. The audience usually appears in long shots of the stage with their backs facing the camera or from a reverse shot where the musicians' backs stand out more than any of the faces in the crowd. Watching audiences react to a concert always adds to the excitement of watching a concert film to immerse them in the experience further, whether it is filmed like a second coming, a peaceful community, or a disaster. A canned applause track used in Television Sitcoms would not be out of place for this film because, like sitcoms, the audience is unseen, or in this film's case, barely seen. The film is supposed to be The Band's final concert, and the film does not interview how fans feel about the Band parting, what the group meant to them, or what they expect from this concert. Unconventionally leaving the audience out would not hurt the film. But it is clear Scorsese's' focus is not on the people attending the concert and the performers as just the entertainers. It is purely on The Band and the people singing with them. Scorsese acknowledges people are watching it, but he constructs the film as if The Band is playing their farewell concert for the viewer watching the movie. 

The film captures The Band performing most of their greatest hits, including Up on Cripple Creek, The Shape I'm In, It Makes No Difference, Stagefright, The Night they Drove Old Dixie Down and Ophelia. Robbie Robertson plays one killer guitar solo after another whenever the spotlight is on him. Rick Danko, the bass player, incredibly pours his heart and soul when singing about the heartbreak of a man who misses his loves in It Makes No Difference and captures the nerves of a performer when singing Stagefright. Levon Helm is equally as powerful when emoting to the songs he sings while spectacularly playing the drums without showing any struggle, except when he looks like he has an itch on his nose to scratch in a few shots. Garth Hudson sits behind the three members playing the organ and synthesizer in near darkness as he is shot from the back, or head-up, as if he is the Phantom of the Opera or a wizard creating mythical and futuristic sounds. Hudson disappointingly gets under two minutes of his solo act The Genetic Method, which is a long introduction to the song Chest Fever. But Garth has his moment to fully shine when playing the saxophone at the end of It Makes No Difference. 

The only member of The Band who hardly is ever given a chance to shine in the film is the piano player and one of their prominent singers Richard Manuel. Documented through a hidden black-and-white camera capturing the whole concert from Bill Graham and even the film's album, Richard vocally leads three songs and has three duets with the guests (including the finale), and he only has two scenes of him singing. Or at least one scene showing him singing, whereas, in the latter, his voice is only heard, which is for the finale. During the finale, the cameras did not know where to point since every single performer was on the stage. Making matters worse, Richard was covered by two artists who start to move out of the way just as he ended his solo. Scorsese did shoot the concert on the spot, and it is almost inevitable that mistakes like this will happen. And for the one number, Richard's performance of The Shape I'm In is captured nicely, where he excels just as well as Danko and Helm. The film is nearly two hours long, but without including another song from Manuel or rarely showing his piano playing skills without singing makes him come across as the weakest and replaceable member of The Band when he was far from that. And it is a pity that the other songs he sings never received a proper cinematic presentation because he knocks it out of the park when singing his rendition of Georgia On My Mind.

The various guests invited to share the stage with the Band for their final bow are famous musicians playing different genres of music such as rockabilly, folk, blues, and R&B. Ronnie Hawkins who gave The Band their start as the Hawks (before becoming the Band), does a lively rockabilly rendition of Bo Diddley's Who Do You Love, screaming, improvising the lyrics, and toying around with The Band as he performs. Ronnie was unsure if he belonged at the concert since he was currently playing at bars at the time, but he seemed completely comfortable singing with the people he brought under his wing. An old friend of The Band, Dr. John, approaches the stage in his flashy suit, oversized purple sunglasses, and huge bow tie to bring the New Orleans beat to the theater with Such a Night. Despite Dr. John not caring for the song too much, he sings it with such suave, accompanied by his jazz-style piano playing that he makes it as festive and toe-tapping as the music culture he represents.

Things get odd when Neil Young takes the stage. When Young performed at Woodstock with Crosby, Stills, & Nash, he did not wish to be filmed because he did not want the cameras interfering with the act for how close they were to the stage. Young should have kept that mindset for appearing spaced out in The Last Waltz. Young was coked up with cocaine hanging from his nostril, which Scorsese had to rotoscope in post-production. While under the influence, however, Young gives a solid performance when singing Helpless, aided by The Band's vocals (at one point sing together into the same microphone like Doo-Woppers singing on the street). Behind the curtain, a silhouetted Joni Mitchell provides a heavenly feel for the song. Audiences felt divided by Neil Diamond's appearance for appearing out of place with the rest of the guests. The reason Neil Diamond was invited was because Robertson was producing his album Beautiful Noise. Compared to the rest of the guests interacting with The Band or always having a member present aside them, the spotlight is purely on Diamond. The Band never introduces Diamond (in the film), nor does he acknowledge the other members, feeling that he is taking over the party than being a part of it. It makes one forget for a few minutes that this concert was about The Band for how Neil Diamond is shot. That is not to say Neil Diamond’s performance is bad. He soothingly sings Dry Your Eyes with breathtaking charisma making it worth seeing. Joni Mitchell takes the stage with the song Coyote, a nicely sung performance with lyrics from the song symbolizing Robertson feeling like "a prisoner of the white lines on the freeway" when constantly living life on the road. Compared to Mitchell's deleted performances, Coyote is good, but nothing as haunting as Shadows and Light or Furry Sings the Blues, with Neil Young on harmonica. 

The next few guests who take the stage are some of blues' greatest musicians. Paul Butterfield blows the blues harp with the energy of a fast-moving train as Levon Helm sings Mystery Train. After a debate between Robbie and Levon about whether Muddy Waters should perform the show, Robertson allows Muddy to play the concert after Levon threatened not to do the show. Muddy Waters did not get a rehearsal ahead of time, but he does not need to for how coolly he sings one of his hits Mannish Boy with Paul Butterfield at his side. Unlike how the other performances are shot, the performance until the ending is captured in one shot. The reason for this was because Scorsese and the camera crew had to stop filming to reload the cameras. When Scorsese heard the opening notes to Mannish Boy, he panicked for halting filming during the most iconic blues songs sung by a legend in history. Luckily one of the cameras was accidentally left on to capture the performance, thus making it the longest shot in the film. Nearly failing to capture Muddy's performance was among so many other little mistakes that worked to the film's advantage. Eric Clapton closes out the blues portion of the movie with Further Up on the Road. A song that metaphorically ties into Robertson's fear of the road hurting him or taking the life of him or band members one day. Clapton is as smooth as he usually is with playing the guitar as he vocally releases the heartbreak of a man who hopes the woman who hurt him will someday suffer the same fate. However, his guitar strap breaks loose at the beginning of his performance, causing Robertson to take over immediately. Including Clapton's performance of All Our Past Times with Rick Danko should have made it into the film's final print, as this slight malfunction is not one of Clapton's finer moments. But the incident is made up with Robertson giving a few epic guitar solos. Then again, Robertson does upstage Clapton, giving the scene more reason to be cut and replaced. Still, Robertson’s guitar playing is so chilling to listen to, while Clapton can still incorporate his talents that it is too good not to be included in the film. The film has plenty of emotionally driven, slow-moving numbers; it would get tiresome to see Clapton perform another number of its kind when he has played many fast-paced rock and blues songs.

After staying away from the stage for more than two years, having trouble deciding the costume he should wear for the night, and suffering from stage fright, Van Morrison brings down the Winterland Ballroom when performing Caravan. No signs of his struggle returning to the stage after so long are felt, nor has he lost his mojo for his live comeback. Morrison sings powerfully (with The Band enthusiastically singing back-up vocals with him) and energetically kicking as each member in the horns section blasts the sound. The last of the solo singing guests is another supporter of The Band from the early days, Bob Dylan, who performed with The Band numerous times when he started to go controversially electric than acoustic. At the time of the concert Dylan was editing his French-New wave-inspired concert documentary film with fictional vignettes, Renaldo and Clara (1978). Through constant negotiations before and during the concert about Scorsese's film competing with his, Dylan allowed three out of six songs he sings to be recorded for the film. Through Bill Graham's secret recording, Bob Dylan's set was one gigantic medley, with only the last two songs making their way into the finished film. Despite wearing a hat suitable for his bizarre Rolling Thunder Revue Tour, Dylan's emotionally raw singing voice brings sincerity when performing Forever Young to rocking along with the Band with his reprise of Baby Let Me Follow You Down. 

At the film's finale, most of the guests get together to sing a tenderly bittersweet rendition of I Shall be Released led by Bob Dylan. The finale includes a few surprise guest appearances from Ringo Starr from The Beatles and Ronnie Wood from The Rolling Stones. While it is always a treat to see two of the popular competitive British rock bands together, their cameo is pointless overall. There is one close-up of Ringo playing the drums, while Ronnie does not get a single frame of him playing guitar, making their appearances so brief that they do not deserve to be mentioned in the film's opening credits and marketing. Deleted footage shows more of the two jamming at the jam session after the finale, before The Band performs their encore, making their appearance warranted, but in the released film, they just exist. To the film's credit, at least Starr and Wood have some sort of introduction in the finale than Bobby Charles. Charles's appearance in the film is a blink-and-miss cameo who stands in the background singing. Charles is in the last song because he performed Down South in New Orleans with Dr. John and The Band, as shown in the deleted footage. At least he made his way into the film, while Pinetop Perkins and Stephen Stills do not make the cut. Nothing is really missing compared to so many other things that were excluded from the film. Pinetop Perkins sings Caldonia with Muddy Waters, who does a swinging job, but it is clear the spotlight is more aimed at Muddy and The Band than him. And Stephen Stills does not show until the near end of the jam session, which is a pleasant surprise but like how Wood and Starr are presented in the film, his amounts to nothing. 

Showing bits of the jam session would have been a better alternative than the appearances of poets Michael McClure and Lawrence Ferlinghetti. As The Band and other musicians took a break from playing after performing Acadian Driftwood with Joni Mitchell and Neil Young, various poets took the stage to entertain the guests during the concert's intermission. How Scorsese includes this part of the event always appears at random and usually less than a minute. McClure's voice is heard immediately after It Makes No Difference, and a dissolve shows him reciting the Introduction to The Canterbury Tales in Chaucerian dialect, ending before anyone can process what he is saying. After Van Morrison's song, the stage suddenly appears ominously empty. Ferlinghetti then walks on the stage to read his short Loud Prayer poem and the film jumps into Dylan's set as if he were never present. 

After filming the show, Robertson wanted to find a way to represent Gospel and country music in the film for their influence on music since they did not cover those styles at the concert. Robertson also wanted the film to have a proper presentation of The Band's hit song The Weight, and his recently written suite named after the show. Scorsese agreed to shoot additional music material on the MGM soundstage to create music video sequences for the film, with special guests The Staple Singers and Emmylou Harris. The appearance of the soundstage scenes at first comes across as jarring, as most of the film's music comes from Winterland Ballroom. To see The Band perform in a completely different environment that looks more polished than the concert scenes feel out of place in contrast to the rest of the film's style. In an interview in the film, Robertson expresses how playing the music would take him and The Band to strange places "Physically, spiritually and psychotically" that were not just on the stage even though they were on the stage. The soundstage sequence is a surreal spiritual experience of how The Band feels mentally when making music. Implications of the supernatural feeling of this mindset are subtle throughout the film. Most of those details come from how the concert scenes are shot and lit. For Helpless, the reason for Joni Mitchell's behind-the-stage vocals were intended to keep her appearance a surprise, but the purple and blue lighting and shadowing make her appear fantom-like. The result of a light blowing out, forcing a blue light to shine on Levon and Butterfield as their surroundings are in darkness, creates an ominous supernatural vibe for the song Mystery Train. The footlights make Danko's skin glow, and a reverse shot of a spotlight shining on him captures the essence of tension, thrill, and adrenaline for Stagefright. Another detail relating to the spirituality of making music is how the people can get as lost in the music as The Band with the couple waltzing. The opening credits sequence is the first soundstage scene in the movie before the film makes these scenes explicit since it is part of the opening credits sequence that combines documented footage. 

Apart from the opening credits, the film has three full-length soundstage sequences. The addition of the Staple Singers joining The Band in the song The Weight gives the tune a gospel presentation, complementing the spiritual theme of performing and symbolizing how music is their religion. The smoke, mystical colors, and blue dress would make Emmylou Harris appear angelic for the Cajun waltz Evangeline. And the reprisal of the film's theme song would take place on a dark and empty stage with the Band playing. A heavenly light would suddenly create larger-than-life shadows of each member and darken again as a crane shot of them would gently pull away from a stage surrounded in an environment by darkness and smoke with globe lights lined up. These visual choices imply that the party is over, The Band have reached the light at the end of the dark tunnel. What is lovely about these sequences is not just Scorsese having the freedom to light the scene or position and move the camera how he pleases but for how the film shows The Band's multiple talents. The concert footage shows Garth playing the saxophone outside of playing the keyboards, but he is also shown playing a beautiful antique accordion for the song Evangeline. Danko is typically on the bass guitar yet is also a skilled fiddle player, as demonstrated in one of the soundstage sequences. Helm not once but twice plays the Madolin instead of the drums for these scenes. Taking over the drums is Richard Manuel. Manuel can briefly be seen playing the rhythm drums for Mystery Train in the concert if a person is really paying attention. When in the Evangeline number Manuel’s drumming talents are shown clearly. Drums are just one of the other instruments Manuel can play because, in the last scene, he sits on the stage playing the Dobro guitar. Robertson still plays the guitar, though, for The Weight sequence, he plays a multi-neck guitar. 

To tie the concert and soundstage scenes together, Scorsese interviews members of The Band in the Shangri-la clubhouse, where they hang out and record their music setting up a relaxed atmosphere. The interviews and how the subjects are documented in films like Don't Look Back, Woodstock, and Gimme Shelter all had their own style of telling a story. In Don't Look Back, it was observing Bob Dylan on and off-stage in his 1965 concert tour in England. Woodstock's interviews consist of Hippies socially engaging during the event and the town's people involvement. Gimme Shelter interviews the people setting up the concert and The Rolling Stones looking over the footage of the infamous concert in Altamont. The Last Waltz interviews take an approach as casual as the interviews in Woodstock, except this time, its primary focus is on the artist than the people attending. And unlike seeing Bob Dylan and the Stones working most of the time, The Band are sitting around smoking, jamming, playing pool, joking around, and talking over one another, making it feel like the audience is hanging out with them as opposed to studying them. How they tell their stories about traveling on the road are less like formal presentations and more like informal stories of how your friend or relative would share their memories or passionately talk about their interest in a subject. It makes The Band feel more like regular people than the talented celebrities depicted on the stage. The interviews cover their compelling stories on the road, how they lived during their career, and their love and knowledge for music.

As the film functions more as a concert film than a documentary about the rise and fall of The Band, the interview scenes are incredibly short. The interviews feel more like breaks from the concert and transitions for the next song than an in-depth study of their successes and failures. One interview has Helm nostalgically talking about how traveling tent shows have influenced the style of rock and roll, followed by Van Morrison singing about the tent shows. Another is about The Band's meeting with famous blues harmonica player Sonny Boy Williamson and how he passed when they were going to perform with him, transitioning to the Mystery Train number with Paul Butterfield. Both the interviews and how many of them relate to the song sequences complement one another by tying into the overall themes of nostalgia, fear, and moving on. The Band members talk about their feelings in the interviews while also serving as their own Greek chorus when they perform. 

Of all the members getting interviewed, Robertson is the one who gets most of the attention. Aside from Scorsese asking Rick Danko what he plans to do after The Last Waltz, no interviews cover how Hudson, Manuel, and Helm about the break-up or the concept of their final concert. Robertson talks all about his superstitions of pressing your luck on the road and how he could no longer do it. Even with his bandmates, Robertson steals the spotlight away from them by answering most questions or making statements. For the concert footage, Robertson is shot to look more like the leader than anyone else in The Band. Compared to documented footage of the Band's performances before the concert, it was never the case. The film has a massive obsession with Robertson over the others for a few reasons. The first is that the concert and making the film was his idea, and as one of the film's producers, he can control his image, unlike the others. The main reason Robertson gets most of the interviews about the end of The Band's career is because he was the only one who wanted to break up The Band. Everyone else still wanted to play on the road, especially Helm, who was furious with Robertson publicizing the end of The Band with a big final concert. Helm intended for the rest of the members and himself to carry on as The Band, just without Robertson, and while they eventually did overtime, Robertson and the studio threatened to sue if they did. 

The Last Waltz, both the film and the motivation for the concert, is without question purely made by Robertson’s fear and ego at the expense of not letting The Band carry on the road under their name. The film is also very clumsy with having noticeably short interviews, Richard Manuel barely having screen-time performing, pointless scenes involving poets, and way too much screen-time with Robbie Robertson. The film is not the best concert film of all time, but it is one of them. Despite the selfish motives, the concert and how it looks is still an all-around dazzling experience with every performer giving their A game. The soundstage sequences are enchanting and haunting at the same time. The interviews are intriguing and allow audiences to bond with The Band as people. And Scorsese’s direction is some of his strongest. It is amazing to see a filmmaker with a love for music successfully achieve the task of filming a big concert, and not only make it appear cinematic even when mistakes were in the way, but still find ways to give it artistic meaning with the material he filmed after.

007 Game Rankings: Number 3. Everything or Nothing (Ps2, GameCube)

I played Everything or Nothing once when I was a kid. When I discovered there was a new Bond game released at my local Blockbuster, you can bet that I had to rent the game as quickly as I can. As a kid spoiled by the first-person shooter experience in previous Bond games, I was put off by the game serving as a third-person shooter. To me, moving the Bond model was nowhere near as exciting or immersive as playing the game in first-person. But I decided to give it a chance, finding myself satisfied playing the pre-title sequence mission and liking the game's song okay. But when the time came for training, I forgot the exact reason why, but I was stuck at one portion of the level. And with the controls and the third person experience feeling so out of place for a Bond game, I did not push myself to press on. I was, in short, bored and puzzled.

Over time, I kept hearing about the game's positive reputation as one of the best Bond games ever. As a young adult still obsessed with the Bond franchise, I wanted to give the game another try, feeling I didn't give it a fair chance as a kid for not meeting my expectations. I bought the game during my early years in college, and I could not believe how foolishly stubborn and impatient I was as a kid. If I had given the game a chance and had the patience as a kid, I would have played it as often as the others. And replaying the game again for this review, it is so much better than I remember it! 

As a kid, I appreciated having a pre-title mission complete with a gun barrel sequence and a Bond-like opening credit sequence like the previous game, Nightfire. While the pre-title mission is not among my top favorites, it is still a smashing first level. I love how there is some time to build up to Bond's presence, unlike in Nightfire, where Bond shows up a few seconds into the cutscene. Players see through Bond's point-of-view as he watches an exchange between terrorists through a sniper scope while hearing his voice, building anticipation for his appearance. After sabotaging the meeting, a disguised Bond appears on the screen during the chaos, running for cover and removing his mask to reveal his identity, suddenly placing players in the middle of the action. From Russia With Love, was better building to Bond's reveal, but at the time, this was the best introduction Bond has ever made in a video game (outside of the gun barrel sequence). Like From Russia With Love, the pre-title mission serves no purpose to the story whatsoever, though still serves as an exciting action-packed level filled with numerous guards and explosions, as Bond retrieves a case and escapes. 

The following opening credit sequence has a few improvements over Nightfire's opening credits. For one thing, there are actually credits. The only piece of credit that appears in Nightfire is the title, which has a significant build-up for the finale, but it is disappointing not to see any credit before it. There is not so much as EA Presents or starring Pierce Brosnan to sell its cinematic feel. Everything or Nothing learns from EA's mistake and takes full advantage of showing each piece of the game's stars as it flows with the rhythm of the music. The second reason why this sequence succeeds over Nightfire is the song. Between both songs, I am more partial to Nearly Civilized by Esthero in Nightfire, but objectively speaking, Mya's song is better used for a song in the opening credits. The song uses the game's title for the chorus rather than just shoehorning it in at the end, and the lyrics have a little more to do with the game by containing themes of love, betrayal, and power when Nightfire was about falling in love and destroying a building (again?). The song itself is also soothing while energetically bouncy with a catchy chorus. The one thing that Nightfire does better is the visuals for the sequence. Make no mistake, the visuals in Everything or Nothing are still outstanding, with plenty of them fitting the story, like tanks, a Russian flag with silhouettes of women holding guns, and nanobots. Nightfire on the other hand, was more epic and intense in its presentation with its colors, shots, and imagery when the credits here looked like screensavers at the time.

Having an all-star voice cast and using the likenesses of the actors helps give the game a cinematic feel. The use of Pierce Brosnan's likeness certainly has a fascinating history. Brosnan imagery started blocky for the Nintendo and PS1 era of the games. The only time the details of Brosnan's likeness were shown at that time was in the cutscenes from 007 Racing, which looked fine, but clearly, there were still ways to go. Though Bond was wholly remodeled in Agent Under Fire, some of Brosnan's features made it into the design. In Nightfire, Brosnan's likeness was used again, only in better detail than 007 Racing. The only distraction was the actor voicing this model sounds nothing like the respective actor when, in other installments, the actors voicing him would do a decent impersonation of Brosnan. In this game, EA goes the extra mile by using both Brosnan's likeness and hiring the man himself to do the voice work. As someone who is not too critical of using the original actors in movie-licensed games as voice actors, hearing Brosnan voice the role helps sell the immersion of playing Bond. There are many times when he sounds like he is reading his lines as opposed to emoting. Still, nothing beats having the current Bond at the time playing the character with a voice that is still as cool and suave as he is on-screen. Brosnan's wooden line delivery is undoubtedly less distracting than old Sean Connery's voice attached to his sixties Bond image (which I still don't mind as much).

As this game is the only time Brosnan voices his iconic role, it marks the debut of Judi Dench voicing M, whose voice would become a regular in the video games from now on. Unfortunately, the game is the final time John Cleese would ever play R. Both actors do well in their respective roles whose voices are heard often in the game, maybe a little often. I have no problem hearing M giving me orders or R giving me tips (unless it involves defeating forklifts) during a mission; my problem is the overlong mission briefing scenes. At first, the game starts with a slideshow presentation like Agent Under Fire of the gadgets I'll be using with R's voice explaining how they work. And at the beginning of a mission in a cutscene, I hear a quick exposition from M similar to Nightfire and Agent Under Fire. But then I discover an MI6 level, which makes me excited to think I will be walking around modern 2000s MI6 for briefings and gadgets. At first, I watched a cutscene of Bond talking to M about my next mission, and then it ends. Thinking I will make my way to the Q lab to obtain gadgets or training, I'm instead watching another cutscene, this time with R. Then, I see Bond and R riding the elevator in a cutscene that appears cinematic, making me think something big is going to happen, only to see a regular cutscene of R showing Bond the vehicle, and afterwards it all ends. These scenes are well-acted, move the story forward, and have plenty of humor during R's scenes, whether in the dialogue or the background (like the films). However, having the MI6 cutscenes as a level with no interaction is unnecessary. And I get it: EA wants to exploit the stars they have, and to have these overlong cutscenes at the start of a mission can get irritating since players want to get right into the action. I understand the length of these briefings for a movie, but for a video game, these details can easily be summed up in a minute or less, as proven in previous Bond games. And to have slideshow-like presentations of R already giving insight into the gadgets makes these cutscenes redundant. I admire how the game is trying to feel like a Bond movie, but these cutscene "levels" are really overdoing it.

In Agent Under Fire, one of the many disappointments with the characters is the wasted potential for R's female assistant, Z, serving as a weak punchline for one of Bond's flirtatious quips. In this game, R gets another female assistant, Miss Nagai, who works in the lab. She is everything Z should have been: active on-screen, providing insight into the gadgets, and flirting with Bond. In many respects, Nagai could have been written out as she tells the Bond information that R can easily tell him. Still, having an additional character who stands out but doesn't overshadow R or Bond is excellent. And out of all the new cast of female ally's Bond encounters, Misaki Ito's voice acting sounds more credible than the others. 

Shannon Elizabeth as the main Bond girl, Serena St. Germaine is as believable as a geologist as Denise Richards is as a nuclear physicist, and Zoey Nightshade as a CIA agent in Agent Under Fire. Granted, Elizabeth does have a bit more personality compared to the women I mentioned, but not by much. As cringy or stilted as Richards and Nightshade can be, for better or worse, I at least remember them and their dialogue. There is nothing about Elizabeth's performance, character, actions, or design that is memorable, even in a so bad its good way. She exists as nothing more than a trophy for Bond. I know people criticize casting pop singer Mya as a secret agent (who Bond later encounters), and she's as believable in her profession as the others. But this odd casting choice and some of her exaggerated line delivery make Mya unforgettable. On top of it, as Serena does so little on-screen, we see this agent gun down goons, defuse a bomb, and hear her sing when posing as a nightclub singer. While it's hard to separate the artist from the character as Mya does not disappear into the role (even in pixelated form), it is laughably badass to see the game's attempt to make her an action hero. I would much rather have her, or at least her character, as the game's main Bond girl instead of Serena. 

Of all the characters cast (without counting the original actors from the films), the casting choice that excited me to give the game another chance is Willem Dafoe as the main villain, Nikolai Diavolo. Given how Dafoe can masterfully play antagonists in ways that are either enjoyably entertaining, menacingly creepy, or both, having him play a Bond villain is a match made in heaven. He may very well be the best original Bond villain in the game franchise. Dafoe's Russian accent may not be the most convincing, but his eerie and playfully evil yet subtle and classy performance makes it easy to overlook and fits with the game's camp. Diavolvo can be sadistically cold when torturing and murdering his victims in some scenes, when in other moments, he is so enthusiastic about the chaos he will bring that he even has his crew place a giant monumental victory statue of him in the midst of a war. For me, what I particularly love about Diavolvo is how bent on revenge he is to kill Bond for killing his mentor Max Zorin from A View to a Kill (I would have loved to see Christopher Walken and Willem Dafoe together as Bond villains if possible). Yet, he does not let his vengeance cause him to overlook the big picture of his scheme.

What is his scheme, some may wonder? The plan is the part of this character that would not translate well in the film, and that's to use nanobots that can eat through any metal to rule the world. I know nanobots would appear and serve a different purpose in the latest Bond film, No Time to Die, except I found it just as dumb (if not dumber) in the movie as I do for the game. The concept certainly raises the stakes and works fine for a Bond game, but for me to picture this as part of the Brosnan period is as good as the sci-fi elements used in Die Another Day. Furthermore, as the villains' locations in the Daniel Craig era games looked like a battlefield from Call of Duty, some of the areas look so colorfully comic book tacky that are filled with sparks and appear otherworldly futuristic that I am expecting Bond to team up with Spider-Man and fight Doc Ock or see Diavolo turn into the Green Goblin (especially when witnessing from a third-person perspective). As out of place as it is, Dafoe becoming the Goblin in a twist sounds cooler than giving him a silly futuristic suit that you'd swear was stolen from the corpse of the villain in Die Another Day, where I am expecting him to produce Sith lightning at any moment. Compared to the deaths of Malprave in Agent Under Fire or Drake in Nightfire, Diavolo's death is more pivotal in presentation. My only gripe is I wish it lasted a little longer, but at least we see him die rather than barely seeing it or suddenly getting a close-up of his dead body. The more I think about it, the henchpeople like Bloch, Red Grant, and Kiko get the more climatic demises. 

While on the topic of henchpeople, Diavolo's team of baddies are hit and miss. Diavolo's lover and second in command, Dr. Katya Nadanova, in terms of writing, is a badass femme fatale. She starts as an innocent victim for Bond to rescue and even assists him during the escape until her true colors are secretly revealed after safely returning to her destination. For the rest of the game, she becomes a constant obstacle for Bond, whether by tossing Serena off a helicopter or capturing him. Like Kiko in the previous game, there is a strong sense of wanting to see Bond axe her off for her betrayal. While the character is written wickedly, Heidi Klum's delivery sounds as wooden as Shannon Elizabeth's. As a victim and scientist, Klum sounds fine; however, once she starts acting villainous and making quips, she sounds incompetent, as if she's trying to sound as threatening and taunting as her lover, only to come off as a weak imitation. And it's a real shame how unconvincing Klum sounds as a villain because Nadanova could have been one of the greats. Even her death is underwhelming since we never see her perish. After all this tension between her and Bond, you'd think there would be some payoff with seeing her suffer.

For a good portion of the game, Bond has to chase after one of Diavolo's scientists with a mechanical hand named Arkady Yayakov. The character has a fiendish design but hardly does anything in the game that is productive. In fact, he never uses his mechanical hand at all in the game, where if you take that gimmick away, nothing will change about him. Bond does not so much as fight against him; he sabotages his lair while fighting off his goons until he is killed by falling lab equipment. With a henchman who shows up often and does very little, the character Jean Le Rouge is the exact opposite. The character looks like Dracula if he were a hunter, appearing sophisticated, undeadly pale, and having a devil-like goatee, as he wears attire Crocodile Dundee would wear while wielding a crossbow. Despite looking calm and collected, when in action, he is a maniac who loves to burn and blow up his victims as he taunts in that creepy French voice. The character is scary, unpredictable, cunning, quick, quiet, loud, and an all-around badass, making him one of the greatest henchpeople in the Bond games of all time, which disappoints me that he is only used in one level.

Rather than developing these new foes, EA is focused on bringing back one of Bond's old foes, Jaws. I should criticize the use of this Bond character as cheap fan service, especially when the new henchmen with potential are wasted for doing nothing or appearing little. When thinking back to the cheap fan service in 007 Racing, though, Jaws' presence is not wasted. In 007 Racing, while mentioned multiple times, we never see him appear on-screen where he could have easily been replaced with another henchperson. The last time Jaws physically appeared in a Bond game was in one of the bonus levels of Goldeneye 64, who is intimidating and a skilled shooter, but is limited in the things he can do. In this game, players can fight this classic henchman in multiple ways, including duking it out on a train, chasing after him on the highway, and dodging his flamethrower on a flaming lift. Naturally, as the game progresses, he becomes harder and harder of a foe, making him a worthy opponent and a near unstoppable force. Do I wish the game gave Yayakov and Le Rouge more time? Absolutely; however, Jaws works just as well, and it is fantastic to see him in a new Bond adventure as a recurring threat.

After the successes of games like Agent Under Fire and Nightfire, for EA to create a Bond game as a third-person shooter was a bit of a risk. EA's last attempt at making a third-person shooter starring Bond was Tomorrow Never Dies for the PS1. It had ambition but horrible controls, making the game very frustrating. And given how Bond gamers, including myself, preferred fighting through the eyes of 007, to see him throughout would take away the immersion we were used to. In the end, EA outdid themselves, fixing the mistakes from their previous attempt and adding plenty of variety and imagination, making it the best of the third-person Bond games. Like the earlier games, the game has alternate routes and optional side tasks, as a player can choose how to act during a mission. For me, stealth is so challenging to do in the game that I usually shoot everybody in my way. For the game serving as a third-person shooter, like the other games that would follow, this game is a cover-based shooter with an auto-aim feature. As games at the time loved to mimic The Matrix almost as much as films and shows love to parody it, time can be slowed down when using Bond senses, where a player can aim at a specific target, change weapons, and figure out where to go when lost. While helpful, it can get a little annoying to use the feature just to lock onto an explosives barrel when I can lock on to enemies. 

Another benefit to the game displayed in third-person is the emphasis on hand-to-hand combat. When in first person, players could only hit an enemy with no absolute combo moves, as the focus was on the weapons and gadgets. The hand-to-hand combat is a bit disappointing, considering only two buttons are used for it, making it feel lacking when engaging. That does not mean that it still isn't fun to play or watch by any means. The sound effects, the different combo moves (if not much), and the death animations still build up the adrenaline when approaching the guard. And to add to the interest of fighting against an enemy is the ability to pick up objects and throw them at enemies, preferably when one chooses to act stealthy.  

Since the gadgets in the previous games were designed for first-person shooters, having them in a third-person shooter allows for more possibilities. After the prologue and training, the third mission opens with Bond using a rappel gun to lower himself from an exploding building, where players can freely swing around while dodging flames. Compared to the later game, From Russia With Love, Everything or Nothing offers more freedom regarding movements, allowing the game to create new obstacles for Bond to dodge. What is even cooler about the feature of rappelling is Bond can also gun down enemies when heading in either direction, further surpassing the original first-person shooter genre in the franchise. Thinking that using the rappel gun is the only way I can feel like I'm free falling, the game actually has a level with Bond free falling to rescue Serena with just as many challenging obstacles.

Increasing the advantages of third-person gameplay with the gadgets is the Q-Spider, a mechanical device used to access unreachable areas and knock out unsuspecting guards. Once again, comparing it to From Russia With Love, the Q-Copters are fun as well, but they've been used in the multiplayer of Nightfire, except it's not in the third person, and they are less vulnerable. The Q-Spiders being a bit more vulnerable should be a disadvantage, but the challenge of positioning them to kill an enemy makes it more exciting and rewarding. I love watching them creep about with an equally creepy sound design and blow guards up with their backs turned. Hearing the guards react to gadget is just as funny as the guards pleading for help in Agent Under Fire. Another way of killing guards by surprise is the Network tap gun, a device that can activate tanks and drone guns to kill in a facility filled with guards, where the player gets to pull the trigger as opposed to watching the show. 

These are not the only gadgets with the element of surprise; Bond carries a few coins in his pocket that can stun or blow-up enemies from afar and destroy machines. The player, at one point, is given the task to use one of the coins to escape a death trap, which, aside from escaping from jail, the situation for players to escape from a death trap has not been used since The World is Not Enough for the N64. The only problem I have with the coins is the unpredictability of whether they will work or not. Sometimes, they hit in the right direction, while other times they can't. In a stealth situation requiring quick action, I find the dart gun a more reliable weapon than the coins; needless to say, the same applies to regular action. However, the coins are not as ridiculous and pointless as Bond's stealth suit. For those who thought the invisible car in Die Another Day was dumb and hard to buy, Bond literally wears a suit that makes him invisible, like Harry Potter's invisible cloak. The device is out of place in the Bond franchise, and I hardly feel the need to use it, given it runs on a low battery. That does not mean it is not a playful feature to have, as I like tinkering around with it occasionally. 

After 007 Racing, the driving missions have drastically improved for each game, with better controls, weapons, and gadgets that will hardly damage you and visually appealing locations. I thought none of the driving levels could top Nightfire, but Everything or Nothing does what I thought was unlikely; it is easily the best driving level in any of the Bond games. The cars have all the typical features like machine guns, missile launchers, smoke screens, and acid slick, but R has equipped a few more features to make driving through enemy territory more exciting with gadgets as ridiculous as the invisible suit. Since the game went above and beyond to a new kind of dumb that fans disliked from Die Another Day, the origin of the invisible suit is featured here. Yes, that means Bond has a car that has an invisible cloak. Like the suit, I hardly use it, though it does come in handy for sneaking around or hiding myself from enemy vehicles. I have frankly found the car's invisible mechanics more reliable than the suit Bond wears. The vehicle also comes with a mini gadget similar to the Q-Spider, except it is on wheels, which are RC cars with a laser (I am thinking of the outrage these ludicrous decisions would get if this were an official Bond film). Unlike the Q-Spiders, players activate through the point of view of its staticky hidden camera, making it seem like the player is Bond using the controls. 

Some of the gadget-based cars Bond drives include a Porsche Cayenne Turbo and Aston Martin Vanquish, which are indeed delights to drive. The game further includes another favorite vehicle in Bond video games, and that is a tank. The last time Bond rode in a tank in the games was for an on-rail shooting level in Agent Under Fire, and the game does so again. At first, I was disappointed that I couldn't drive the tank since I was no longer playing it in first-person and would like to engage in my surroundings other than blasting everything in sight. That is not to say I did not have fun with this on-rails portion, either. And as luck would have it, towards the last few levels of the game, I would finally have the opportunity to drive a tank like I would a car. What makes this experience more rewarding and as outlandish as the other new additional features I pointed out is that this is a futuristic tank, looking like something designed by Skynet in the Terminator franchise. The tank comes equipped with a traditional tank cannon and a space-like plasma gun. And that's only half of it because since Bond is stealing a tank from the villains, this one also comes with nanobots, which players are required to use to succeed and even plan sneak attacks. As I have said many times, the ideas would fail drastically in a Bond film, and by Bond game standards, it's a bit much, and yet I am having too much fun to care as the game gives me exactly what I would expect from one. 

Of all the vehicles Bond drives in the game, my favorite is the Triumph Daytona 600 motorcycle, otherwise known as the Q-Bike. The bike is the fastest and most difficult one to drive, but not in an annoying way (apart from the game making me perform a stunt in one level). Speeding when chasing after enemy vehicles feels like an adrenaline rush that always gets my heart pumping every time, I use it. What makes this vehicle harder than the others is if Bond crashes, he will not still be sitting on the bike; he will fly off and lose a good portion of his health and likely die after a second or third crash (one minor gripe I have with the game is blood does not trickle down on the screen when he dies at any point in the game). This risk thankfully, only increases the pleasure and intensity of driving the Q-Bike rather than spoiling the fun. The game is incredibly generous because since the motorcycle was given to Bond from Q-Branch, it allows the bike to have a few gadgets, such as missiles and a flame thrower. The bike does not come with a machine gun; it comes with something better, and that's Bond wielding a shotgun like he's the Terminator. 

While nonsensical, the number of gadgets each vehicle carries are fascinating and amusing. That said, not all cars have weapons, and I don't mean that in a bad way, either. The game, at one point, has a racing level (delivering more with its racing theme than 007 Racing), where Bond poses as a racer and has to win one to meet and have dinner with Diavolo as a reward (which makes no sense considering Diavolo has seen Bond earlier). The mission is my least favorite driving level in the game for serving as a generic racing level, yet it is still a welcoming change of pace from all the shooting. I'd say a break from the explosions, too, if not for the racetrack, for some odd reason, having explosive barrels, and that is strangely not the most nonsensical thing in the game. A little after the race, when there is action on the road, Bond does not drive a gadget-based car. Like Blood Stone, despite its limitations, the excitement is still present, and unlike Blood Stone, this change is earned considering there have been plenty of missions of Bond driving cars with gadgets beforehand. What's even more remarkable is whether driving a Q-branch car or a regular one, one can still cause unwanted destruction by ramming through enemy vehicles and watching them fly, tumble, and explode.

A major part of the reason why the driving in this game works so stunningly is how spacious these levels are. As much as I love the driving levels in Agent Under Fire and Nightfire, most levels were either tightly small or had little going on in large maps. Not a single driving level here feels like a wasted opportunity with action or too small to explore. Because of this, players can develop their strategy and find different ways to go about their mission. The best alternate routes and choices are mainly located within these levels. A person can either use a cloak to get past enemy vehicles or blow-up a (hopefully) temporarily closed fireworks factory to distract them. And there are plenty of shortcuts to make it to destinations faster, like crashing through fences and breaking through windows. My personal favorite is crashing a Madi Gras parade to make it inside a hotel room. Early in the game, players even have a chance to pick their vehicle of choice, which the Bond games never do, and it is not explicit either, making it a rewarding find.

Another rare thing this game offers is allowing players to fly a vehicle. And I'm not talking about a mini-Q-copter; I'm talking about an actual helicopter that is armed and equipped with missiles, bombs, and flares to distract oncoming enemy fire. Seriously, this game is not holding back on what it can do. All that is missing is another level when flying an aircraft; otherwise, I'm satisfied with what the game delivers. 

Like any classic Bond adventure, Bond visits many exotic locations, including Peru, New Orleans, Egypt, and Moscow. For all my complaints about how some levels look like locations in a Spider-Man game, there are more than plenty that are beautifully designed and fit within the Bond universe. A few levels into the game, and the game has me on a steel train fighting through cars with Jaws as a boss, to having me fly a helicopter through a pyramid with booby traps in the next mission. In Peru, I drive through its dusty streets, heading to places like an abandoned mine shaft (with one of the best uses of the Bond theme in a very subtle way) and a hotel with a secret passageway where I check in stealthy and check out fighting for my life while rescuing another. Though a war zone, the streets of Moscow are still filled with lovely scenery and buildings, which leads to a climax in an underground Cold War-inspired base that looks as gorgeously gigantic as some of the best villains' lairs in the series. While on the subject of lairs, earlier in the game, Bond escapes through Diavolo's mines, a level clearly inspired by Zorin's mine in A View to Kill, looking as grand. 

For me, my favorite exotic location is New Orleans. The color scheme and lights create a busy and festive atmosphere, making for a very scenic and interactive driving experience (with the different routes). As flashy as the environments are, most primary locations contrast with it, whether it is Bond visiting an abandoned plantation with a hidden lab or a graveyard. The closest to a location with any color and life is the Kiss Kiss Club, which has neon colors and a relaxed, jazzy, longue version of the game's title song, sung again by Mya as Bond sneaks around and takes on guards. As mellow as the place is (Complete with a naked woman for Bond to massage), the place has villainy all over it, particularly at the bar with red, purple, and blue neon lights and a shark tank. 

The only gameplay element of the game that is lacking is surprisingly the multiplayer. Multiplayer mode mainly offers co-op mode, where players work together during missions to achieve tasks. This mode is a refreshing change of pace from the traditional combat mode, which I give EA credit for going the extra mile at creating for a Bond game, considering the third person in the franchise was already a risk. As playable as the campaign is, overall, it feels dull and standard since hardly anything about it stands out regarding level design, tasks, and even the character skins. Players cannot play as any of the game's characters but as generic MI6 agents. There is a way for players to play as characters from the game: unlocking them, which is pretty disappointing. However, locking game characters is nowhere near as stupid as forcing players to unlock a combat arena for the classic multiplayer experience. For everything the game gets right, WHY WOULD IT DO SOMETHING AS BRAINLESS AS FORCING PLAYERS TO UNLOCK THE PART GAMERS LOOK FORWARD TO IN A BOND GAME?! THE VERY THING THAT MADE THE SERIES A LEGEND IN MULTIPLAYER GAMING?! Thankfully, the next third-person shooter, From Russia With Love, would give players what they want, and while there are worse multiplayer games in the franchise, this is one I do not plan to revisit. 

It's incredible the game works as well as it did! The game abandons the first-person shooter for a third-person shooter experience that previously failed massively in the franchise, which is tied together by a ridiculous plot that would receive the same harsh criticism as Brosnan's last outing as Bond on-screen. And, yet the game is considered to be one of the best Bond games in the franchise! It's truly one of those games I forget how good it is until I play it. It shares flaws similar to Agent Under Fire in the story and character department. Still, the gameplay offers so much variety with the combat, driving, gadgets, and locations that it is easy to overlook the narrative problems. It tries so many new things, while also bringing enough of the element's players are familiar with to keep them happily engaged. And with the restricted multiplayer aside, it succeeds with every new thing it tries gameplaywise, complete with a half-decent cast of actors and characters, a Bond-like soundtrack, references to Bond films that hardly feel cheap, and a cinematic feel.  

                                         Least Favorite Mission: MI6 Training

Before and after this game, the tutorial levels would be helpful while moving the story along. In this game, after the pre-title mission, everything stops for Bond to be training in the same simulator from Die Another Day. At least in the movie, the simulator looked like reality, while here, it's a generic computer simulator where the only visually appealing part is the red spikes at the bottom of a pit. I wouldn't bother including this if the level were optional, but it's part of story mode. And I get why it's part of it, too, because given how challenging and clunky the controls were in their first attempt at third person shooting and that this is a significant change, they want players to be comfortable with the controls. Fair enough, except the previous mission already did it in a very entertaining and exciting way. Coming back to it does help now and then, so it does fulfill its purpose. But in terms of having anything unique or interesting outside the controls and the pit, it's boringly average. 

                                            Favorite Mission: Death's Door

The Kiss Kiss Club and some of the driving missions were close contenders for my favorite mission, but I had to go with Death's Door for doing something that I rarely see in a Bond game: horror. There are no ghosts, slashings, or Baron Samedi laughing about to make it scary; it relies on two essential things. The first is the henchman Jean Le Rouge, who has the makings of becoming a horror icon for having a combination of Dracula, the devil, and Count Zaroff from The Most Dangerous Game. He's the scariest character in the game franchise for his design and enjoyment of watching people slowly burn like Satan does for those damned to hell. The second and most important reason is the atmosphere! The mission is set in a dimly lit graveyard in the middle of a dark and stormy night. Visually, it's chilling to look at, especially when the lightning strikes, creating a strong source of light. My personal favorite is the sound design, how a player is unsure if it's the sound of thunder or a sniper shot, and having an eerie subtle score that builds on suspense. It's the perfect level to play it stealthy, as it only enhances the terror, by eavesdropping on the guards talking cryptically about killing the poor agent while the flash of lightning could give away your location if you are not careful. Ultimately, it all leads to a loud and chaotic climatic showdown in a hell-like environment with a giant fiery furnace. The level is, of course, highly playable, but the spooky vibe makes it haunting, making it my favorite level in the franchise based on atmosphere.