Brosnan a perfect 007 in newest Bond film
By Cliff A. Hicks
Film Critic
Pussy Galore and Oddjob may be
gone, but that doesn’t mean that 007 is
- out of job. Not af
Movie ter this film.
n m James Bond is
KCVICW back and bigger
18th film, “Gold
eneye.” All the as
pects of a good
Bond film are here:
neat gizmos from
Q, spectacular
clnntc n’m nfrawi
of heights now), bold music and gor
geous women. And Bond has his dark
humor again.
The basic storyline is this: The
Cold War is over and Russia is in
shambles. Still, it has a weapon up its
sleeve — Goldeneye.
Goldeneye is a pair of orbiting sat
ellites that fire an electromagnetic
pulse causing electronics to overload
and fuse, and all sorts of other destruc
tion.
Bond is, of course, called in to save
the world. This time, however, the
opponents are not so easy. First, there’s
Xenia Onatopp, played by Famke
Janssen (“Lord Of Illusions”), a killer
whose deadly weapons are her thighs.
I’m not joking. This is a Bond film,
remember. Think of Jaws, or Oddjob!
Each had a gimmick. Onatopp has
hers.
The real villain, however, is an
other 00—006, Alec Trevelyan (Sean
Bean). It’s obvious that 006 is just a
little crazy, but his reentrance is one of
the best intros to a villain for the last
five films.
By far, though, Bond is the star.
Pieite Brosnan (“Remington Steele,”
“Mrs. Doubt fire”) makes perhaps the
best Bond since Connery. His sly
smile, his debonair style and his cava
lier look fill the shoes of 007 per
fectly.
But M has changed. To a woman.
Dame Judi Dench (“Midsummer
Night’s Dream,” “Study In Terror”)
assumes the role of the nameless M,
and plays it as a cold, effective leader,
like the head of any good spy ring
should.
Film: “Goldeneye”
Stars: Pierce Brosnan,
Izabella Scorpusco, Scan
Bean, Famke Janssen
Director: Martin Campbell
Rating: PG-13 (language,
violence)
Grade: A
Five Words: Bond bursts back
with flair
And, of course, there’s a new
Moneypenny. Samantha Bond (who
is so aptly named) gives a definitive
new twist to Moneypenny, who has
been seen pining after James time and |
time again.
Part of the problem with a Bond
film is that all the lines have got to be
perfect. You can’t screw up lines like
“Shaken, not stirred...” or the movie
will die a fast and painful death.
But when Brosnan says, “Bond,
James Bond,” you know that the old
Bond magic is back.
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I Where: Summit County Colorado
(staying in Breckenridge)
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Price: Members/Students - $345
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Book Review! -
“Better Than Sex: Confessions of
a Political Junkie”
Hunter S. Thompson
Random House, 1995
Reading a Hunter S. Thompson
book is a little like eatingbowl after
bowl of Chex: It feeds a certain
kind of appetite and feels kind of
good, right up to the point of nau
sea.
The newest release by the Gonzo
journalist, entitled “Better Than
Sex: Confessions of a Political
--
Junkie,” relates in gory detail ev
erything you ever wanted to know
about politics, from the perspective
of a die-hard, megalomaniacal,
bourbon-induced, technocratic
writer for Rolling Stone holed up
“somewhere in Colorado.”
Never were the words “nothing
is sacred” more applicable; yet the
insights are thought-provoking, es
pccially if you don’t particularly
give a damn about politics in gen
eral, or didn ’ t even bother to vote in
the last election.
I
A twisted path of crumpled faxes
leads the reader deep into America’s
political wilderness of back alley
transactions and morphic loyalties.
The haunts of JFK, William
Casey and Lee Atwater mingle at
an open bar well-stocked and served
by Thompson, who keeps one hand
on a sawed-off shotgun and the
other on a beeper.
“The Rise and Fall of George
Hubert Bush,” the author’s Twi
light Zonesque interview with a
certain Arkansas Governor (a.k.a.
Mr. “I Didn’t Inhale”), the blue
light special packaging of Perot for
mass consumption, and the not-so
sad story of the scarlet “N,” com
plete with a 105 mm howitzer fu
neral, are but a few of the choicer
bits Thompson has procured for
the reader’s digestion.
Whether you find it offensive,
amusing, or uncanny, after reading
the Gonzo Guru’s latest collection
of commentary, you’ll probably
want a couple of Maalox on hand.
— Fred Poyner
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V J
Music ReviewSf
“Songs from The Gypsy’”
Boiled In Lead
Omnium Recordings
Grade: A
I fyou ’ ve never heard Celtic rock
(the blending of Celtic folk music
and rock music) then you don’t
know what you’re missing, espe
cially from Boiled In Lead.
“Songs from 'The Gypsy’” has
rather an interesting story behind it.
Minneapolis-based author/musi
cian Steven Brust wrote a book
with Megan Lindholm in 1992
called “The Gypsy.” At the begin
ning of each section of the book
was a snippet of lyrics. Brust, with
Boiled In Lead vocalist/guitarist
Adam Stemple, wrote songs for the
book, hoping to eventually put out
a soundtrack for it and create one of
the first (if not the first) books of its
kind.
The project encountered many
problems, but finally got off the
ground in late 1994. In January
1995, the album was finished, but
they wanted to tfrv more. So they
did.
Contained on the CD is informa
tion that can be used on your com
puter. The entire novel is available
for your reading (great novel too,
but this isn’t a book review), and
the sound bites that arc not on this
album (some of the lyrics were re
corded by Brust’sband,CatsLaugh
ing) can be played with a push of a
button. When you come to a section
in the novel with lyrics, push the
button at the bottom and hear what
the lyrics sound like set to music.
Also, the entire CD sleeve is con
tained on the CD-ROM.
The music, however, is the most
important part. Brust and Stemple
make one hell of a team, from the
opening tambourine on the fairly
folkish “Raven, Owl and I,” to the
sorrowful blues of “Red Lights and
Neon.”
Stemple’s ability as a guitarist is
obvious on the lovely “No Passen
ger,” a soothing finger picking song.
The band sounds its best, however,
on the incredibly filling “Hide My
Track,” which it displays marvel
ously. Josef Kessler, Boiled In
Lead’s fiddler, proves that there
should be more people playing un
conventional instruments in rock
bands. That’s all he plays, and he’s
perfect.
While “Songs From 'The
Gypsy’” isn’t quite as good as the
group’s last album, the
mindblowingly incredible “Antler
Dance,” it is a masterful effort from
a band that is carving out its own
place in the world of music.
’ •a - . • . _ ^ -
— Cliff A. Hicks
‘Superstar’
Continued from Page 9
must die, Neeley screamed out the
words, sustaining them for what
seemed like several minutes at one
time.
Other standouts were Gary
Rowland as Judas Iscariot; David
Bannick as Caiaphas; and Fernand
Roderick as Annas.
Bannick and Roderick played off
each other perfectly. In the many
scenes where their characters plotted
to kill Jesus, Bannick’s low, diaboli
cal growls contrasted with Roderick’s
high, screeching taunts.
And the costumes were simply
breathtaking. Pontius Pilate’s long,
flowing purple cape made him look
both regal and utterly evil at the same
time.
But try as they might, the cast
couldn’t overcome the drawbacks of
the venue in which they performed.
The worst was the small stage; the
cast and props looked crammed to
gether, detracting from the grandeur
that a musical like “Superstar” should
have shown.
Next were the curtains; they
couldn’t be opened fully because they
had to hide the light towers. This ef
fectively blocked one quarter of the
action for audience members seated in
the left and right side risers.
The last problem was probably the
fault ofthc musical’s crew: there were
only four speakers on each side of die
stage attempting to fill the cavernous
auditorium with sound.
They were woefully insufficient.
“Superstar” is a rock opera; it needs
Play: “Jesus Christ Superstar”
Stars: Ted Neeley, Gary
Rowland
Director: Tony Christopher
Five Words: Pershing and
theater don’t mix
Grade: C+
speaker towers,not tiny little speakers
stacked atop packing crates.
“Jesus Christ Superstar” needed a
theater to give the production maxi
mum effect. Pershing is an audito
rium, and it should leave plays and
musicals to theaters.
