As the creaking sound of a bandwagon being jumped on, the rumble of a herd being followed, or other metaphors for my screaming lack of originality bellow loudly, I have decided, at the behest of the genuinely incredible The Incredible Suit, to ‘BlogalongaBond‘ – retrospectively reviewing all 22 Bond films in the 22 months leading up to Sam Raimi’s forthcoming effort.
What, though, can be said about Dr No, this classic slice of British cinema, that hasn’t already been said? Other bloggers in the BlogalongaBond army have probably already summed it up, and most likely far better than I ever could (this douche summed it up brilliantly), and that’s not even acknowledging the ocean of opinion written in the nearly sixty year interim since the first Bond film was released.
Plus, I’ve left it a bit late. Since we’re supposed to move on to From Russia With Love in February, and with February less than an hour away, and since I’ve already spent nearly two hundred words talking about what to write, and since it’s nearly half eleven and I want to go to bed, and since, as I’ve already mentioned, everyone has written something about it, and since if you are sentient a human of any decency you will have already seen it (and loved it) already and don’t really need persuading, my ‘review’ is as follows:Dr. No is really great. Not as good as From Russia With Love. Or possibly Goldfinger. But it’s really, really good. Like, seriously.