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I bang chicks for a living, but even I can admit he’s a fine piece of man-meat. No homo.

I love my DudeMomBro. She’s the greatest. I don’t care if that makes me sound like a Sissy Bunny Wussy either. DudeMomBro is a saint. I don’t know anyone else who’ll make me dinner, buy me pornos, and casually shake her head when she catches me getting busy in the middle of a Devil’s Threeway banging many chicks without a man in sight.

The point is: she puts up with a lot. But, at the end of the day, she loves her DudeBro and will do anything for me, and I for her, like beating up all the Johns that show up at our door at midnight. (Dudes, give it up, I know my mom’s a dime piece but she’s put that life behind her. Enough already. My fist is tired of bashing your faces.) It’s an interesting, undying connection, the bond between mother and son. I also didn’t use the word Bond on accident. Because, as luck would have it, Skyfall is almost exclusively about what a son will do for his mother.

Skyfall starts with Bond searching for a stolen list of British spies. This list, without too much exposition necessary, obviously compromises a bunch of classified people. So M, Bond’s boss and mother figure, is all like, “I’m not fucking around, Bond. Get that list back or I’ll kill you.” Which, spoiler alert, M kills Bond within the first five minutes. But, because this is his film, he doesn’t really die and actually discovers on of M’s old spies is actually responsible and is hell bent on destroying M.

That’s where the Bad Haircut Dude From No Country For Old Men shows up in Skyfall with an even more regrettable haircut. His villain is basically Bond in the worst possible circumstances. He’s Bond gone bad, Bond’s twin brother who deeply envies both Bond’s life and his unbreakable relationship with M. And so, in an amazingly personal tale for a Bond film, James must save one of the only people he cares about.

The world isn’t at risk in this film. England isn’t in danger either. There’s not a laser on the moon or poisoned water wells. It’s just M. And, even with such low stakes, the tension is amazingly effective.

Cause, I’ll complain about Bond to anyone who’ll listen. I’m not the biggest fan. I think his films are superficial and quite a bit boring. Bond never learns anything. He never changes. He just shows up, bangs a chick, and shoots a gun. I get that’s part of his charm but, after fifty years, I think it’s ok to actually give the dude a character arc.

That’s part of why the new Bond films work so well. Casino Royal set up a clear rise and fall for the dude. He fell in love (Rare for Bond.) and then lost his love. (Extremely common place for Bond.) Quantum of Solace was far from great but at least it followed through with a character arc. It was Bond on a warpath, still grieving and having to deal with that.

Skyfall works because Bond actually has something to lose. His body is severely compromised at a time when he needs it most. THAT’S tension folks. It’s not a giant fucking explosion but never knowing when a bomb will burst.

Now, it’s far from perfect, storylines are introduced and ejected at an alarming rate. The stolen list of spys? An after thought fast the first hour. Bond’s broken body? Magically gets better without any sacrifice by the third act. These are all kind of annoying to witness but, because the film does so well with Bond and M’s relationship, you’re still going to be entertained.

So, what are today’s lessons? My DudeMomBro is no longer a prostitute. No Country Dude really needs to fire his hair stylist. Bond works better when Bond has something to lose. Explosions are rad. And I love my DudeMomBro and causally beat the shit out of anyone who touches her. Great day, kids. Great day. We’ll see you nerds next week.

Grade: A-


About dudebroreviews

I like banging chicks, drinking brews, and ordering porn on demand. Like the biggest boss you've ever seen.

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