007 - Casino Royale (1967)

Casino Royale is about how beautiful Ursula Andress is and precious little else. The film is a mess. Lacking any coherent dramatic thread, scenes bungle along like a series of chain reactions. David Niven's prissy Sir James Bond functions as the catalyst, a stuttering bore dragged out of retirement to flit around anointing successors and instigating a never-ending wave of digressive asides. Niven's scenes, some of which were directed by John Huston, revolve around a well-dressed English gent breezing through highly dangerous situations. His incredulous presence is a sight gag that plays in any language. It's an idea the 'official' Eon films would return to when Roger Moore became the series' driving force.

This spoof Bond project began as a something of a follow-up to What's New Pussycat? with spendthrift producer Charles Feldman hoping that the lightning generated by pairing Sellers with Woody Allen might strike twice. Unfortunately, Sellers' idea of a farcical 007 is a smartly dressed man prone to random, ultra-violent, outbursts; a shtick Sean Connery had long since canonised. Lacking any particularly outlandish - or even humorous - character ideas, Sellers appears to be playing his Bond reasonably straight. Although he breaks out some terminally unfunny comedy accents for the film's climactic baccarat game (with Orson Welles, no less), earlier scenes spent romancing Andress reach for pulsing machismo. 

Perhaps sensing the damage he stood to do his career, Sellers duffed up his director (and personal friend) Joseph McGrath then refused to participate in any more filming. Feldman's solution to a half-finished film? Throw millions upon millions at the screen. Cameos! Extravagant sets! A sumptuous song and dance sequence featuring Joanna Pettet's Mata Bond (the offspring of the British superspy and Mata Hari) that anticipates the glitzy Orientalism seen in Steven Spielberg's Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. Casino Royale's mise en scene heaves with expense, rambling action sequences are padded out with models rather than simply extras - each and every one of them wearing the latest Paris fashions. This manic kitsch is the best of Casino Royale though. The film may not have even a basic idea of how to build a consistent tone or sense of character but it is, at least, amusing to look at.