By Ian Flanagan
Though he began in theater and never abandoned it, Sam Mendes can only be considered a British film director based on how many Bond films he has to his name. Deemed Best Director right off the bat for his debut film American Beauty, the English director would spearhead many films focusing on particularly domestic concerns up until he gave his life over to 007 for several years.
Needless to say his film career has had nowhere to go but down, but Mendes has worked his way in and out of relevancy without lack of trying. Likely burned out from Bond, Mendes seems content continuing his devotion to the stage from Shakespeare and Willy Wonka. His seven films over the course of 15 plus years has left us with plenty to examine – Mendes’ filmography is diverse and unpredictable.
On the level of craft alone, Spectre is decent. But just as a spy film, let alone the longest and priciest installment in the most enduring film series of all time, Spectre is dull and stupid even for Bond.
Attempting to emulate everything that worked so well between Mendes and director of photography Roger Deakins in Skyfall, Spectre stylistically offers more grand scale, faux art-house Bond. Even though cinematographer Hoyte von Hoytema does his best to recapture Skyfall’s vibrancy, the script doesn’t allow him the opportunity to conjure anything visually memorable.
With an indulgent two and a half hour runtime and a 250 million dollar budget, one would hope that the end product wouldn’t be lacking in tonal consistency, engaging action or much purpose beyond exaggerating the stakes. Christoph Waltz’ performance is more Dr. Evil than Blofeld reincarnate and Léa Seydoux is much too young to be Bond’s new girlfriend. With so much behind it, the film’s monotony is inexcusable
From:: Taste Of Cinema