The DVD release of the twenty fourth Bond movie is the fastest selling this year yet Spectre still has a lot to live up to.  It’s predecessor Skyfall became not only the best selling Bond movie of all time but also the highest grossing film ever at the UK box office.  It’s a record that is on course to be broken by Stars Wars not by Bond and rather like the would-be battle between theme songsters Sam Smith and Adele you sense you already know the outcome.

Broccoli and co – now recruiting Andrew Scott and Christoph Waltz to join Daniel Craig, Ralph Fiennes, Naomi Harris and Ben Whishaw – throw everything they can at the challenge.  From resurrecting classic cars to that cat it’s all there – chases, shootings, punch ups, and of course an attempt at world domination.  The idea here also could neither be more apposite nor – if one pauses for thought – controversial.  Nutty dictator spends his time destabilising (i.e. blowing up) world cities and colludes with a megalomaniac seizing the opportunity to create a surveillance system to end all others – and indeed democracy – in the name of (inter)national security.  Sound familiar?  This is only matched by the scale and number of sites – Mexico City, London, Rome, Tangier – this is global Bond.  Or location location location.  Meantime M loses his job, Q cracks computer codes, and C – well, C is another story.

For well over half of its two and a quarter hour length Spectre watches as series of lavish set pieces – a car chase around Rome and a sex scene with the still stunning at 50 Monica Bellucci thrown in for an aperitif is one.  Yet one is shaken not stirred.  As a narrative it relies heavily on its final forty odd minutes to pull itself together.  It is at its weakest here – the misogynist dinosaur of the Dench era comes under attack from his new love interest Madeleine Swann played by a ballsy Lea Seydoux but the construction of heroes hasn’t actually changed much as he’s caught up in avenging M’s death, keeping his word, and of course saving the world from what appears to be his own “sibling by circumstance” in a story that never quite makes sense.  Same old manly stuff.

Prior to the film’s release rumour was rife that this would be Craig’s last outing as Bond despite matching if not outstripping Connery’s legacy as Mr Sexy and not even remotely hitting 50.  Contrary to the rumours, however, Craig has never looked so comfortable in the role with his deadpan disdain for authority and panther like physique.  He exudes the rough meets smooth sex appeal of a man-cat – all legs, shoulders and piercing eyes – in suits designed once again by Tom Ford and now so tight they could be gabardine cling film.  Yet he also infuses the role with world weary knowingness, well delivered lines, and wit.  If there is anything that holds together this bombastic (in every sense) mishmash of a movie it is him.

Despite Seydoux’s efforts, the love interest fails to convince and most of the galactic cast are cruelly underused not least Waltz as Bond’s nemesis.  Only Whishaw as the nerdy Q is actually given something to do whilst the normally solid Andrew Scott seems hopelessly misdirected here as he (literally) shuffles along as C.  In Sherlock he is scary.  Here he is just smug.  The same might be said of the film.  Skyfall had far less glamour (its cast ending up stuck in a derelict mansion in the Scottish highlands) but it had heart and soul plus Xavier Bardem’s psychotic pseudo-Freudian antihero.  By contrast, and despite its brilliance and style (and it has both in spades), Spectre never really grips – it’s all just a bit too transparent, too obvious – perhaps less would have been more.  Ultimately, as its title implies, Spectre ends up devoid of substance, a considerable spectacle that soon evaporates like glitzy mist.