Movie Scene Science: Casino Royale

Movie Scene Science is a new weekly feature at FlickSided that puts memorable movie scenes under the microscope to see what makes them tick.

What makes a film great? Seems like a simple question, but not so easy to answer. Quality acting and writing are essential, as is originality. However, it takes a lot more than just the basics to ensure one movie stands out from the rest. It takes individual, well-constructed scenes to reach heights of greatness.

Competent directors who understand the intricacies of scene-building are better equipped to craft material that resonates. The more memorable scenes there are, the better. Great scenes can expound on theme, reveal key plot turns, expose a character’s hidden traits, or induce a visceral reaction. The very best function on all of these levels, and therefore demand further examination.

Rather than rehash obvious snippets from classic films like Casablanca, Psycho, Citizen Kane, Jaws, Goodfellas and Pulp Fiction, we’re going to delve into scenes that on the surface might not seem all that special, but are in actuality perfect representations of effective scene-building.

First up, is 2006′s James Bond reboot Casino Royale, directed by Martin Campbell. Royale was positioned to wipe the 007 slate clean and start anew. Gone were the crazy gadgets, silly puns and over the top villains. A modernized story grounded in reality replaced the standard cartoonish plot, and Daniel Craig was handed the license to kill. Craig brought an intense ruggedness to the character, without losing the prerequisite charm and sense of humor.

In a movie designed to explain how Bond became Bond, Craig needed to play the super-spy as vulnerable. He had to set aside the clever quips and patent cynicism and open his heart. In the following scene, Campbell stages the moment in which Bond removes his armor and comforts a terrified Vesper Lynd. Let’s take a look:

Vesper has just finished witnessing Bond kill two men in bloody, brutal fashion. Violent death is not something she’s accustomed to dealing with on a daily basis, so her shower breakdown is a natural reaction. Too many times in movies people get killed and characters shrug their shoulders like it’s no big deal.

“Hey, that guy got shot fifteen times right in front of me. Hmm. Think I’ll go get a sandwich.”

Ridiculous.

Vesper’s transformation into a little girl lost is enough to make even an ice-cold assassin like Bond feel sympathy. Note his reaction when he opens the bathroom door. He pauses, unsure what do. Sucking her fingers is an odd choice, but it’s fitting because he’s out of place in the role of comforter. At this point, we are given a glimpse into Bond’s soul. We can see he’s capable of caring, and so does Vesper. The relationship between the two begins to shift from mutual attraction to something deeper.

In the case of Lynd, she also lowers her defenses. Her tough, smart, independent exterior gives way to a frightened, uncertain interior. Her comment about having blood on her hands assumes a greater significance after seeing the movie in its entirety. One can’t help but think her Algerian boyfriend and her impending deception is on her mind as she sits crying in the shower. She’s entered into a dangerous game. One in which people will lose their lives.

Campbell’s subtle use of music and minimalist camera work help craft something rarely seen in a Bond film: a moment of tenderness. He cues the music as Bond approaches Lynd and pushes in slowly to frame them both. The utilization of a long take for the duration of the scene adds to its emotional impact. Campbell wants us to feel what Vesper feels. He wants us to recognize Craig’s Bond is human. As the music peaks, the camera slowly pulls back and the scene fades to black. It’s a beautiful two minutes that serves to unmask Lynd and Bond. It also sets both characters down a path that ultimately ends in tragedy.

Casino Royale manages to rise above normal Bond treatments. It achieves this due in large part to the precise execution of scenes like this one.