Casino Royale ist das erste Buch der James-Bond-Reihe vom britischen Autor Ian Fleming. Dort versucht Le Chiffre, durch Folter aus Bond das Geldversteck herauszupressen. Nach stundenlanger Folter ist Bond am Ende und wird mit. Es ist eine Neuverfilmung des ersten James-Bond-Romans Casino Royale von Ian Fleming. Bond erholt sich mit Vesper in einem Badeort von der Folter. Nov. In der nachträglich für die Altersfreigabe entschärften Folterszene, als Zu der Frage nach der Wichtigkeit: Wenn man Casino Royale.
bond folterszene james casino royale - good phraseFlucht aus Absolom James Bond: Kann mir jemand den Namen nennen? Das allein ist schon die Hälfte des Eintrittsgeldes wert. Im Gegensatz zu vielen anderen muss ich jedoch sagen, dass ich eigentlich alle Bond Filme die ich gesehen habe alle sinds leider noch nicht gerne mochte. Was sagst Du dazu? Bond kann Dimitrios als nächsten Mann hinter Mollaka ermitteln, beschattet ihn auf den Bahamas und tötet ihn letztlich in Miami. Und für jmd, der über die Brosnanfilme zu bond kam, ist das schon ne krasse Wandlung im Film. In der deutschen Synchronisation wurde ihr Name auf Stephanie Brustwartz geändert. Die Produzenten jedoch lehnten diese Besetzung ab — über die genauen Gründe hierfür ist nichts weiteres bekannt. Selbst wenn Bond diese Gimmicks erhält, sind es nie explodierende Kugelschreiber, bewaffnete Autos oder Uhren mit eingebautem Laser.
James bond casino royale folterszene - recommend youEs war seine letzte Rolle. November in den US-amerikanischen und am. Wir wussten, dass sie hart an der Grenze war und möglicherweise herausgeschnitten wird. Selbst wenn Bond diese Gimmicks erhält, sind es nie explodierende Kugelschreiber, bewaffnete Autos oder Uhren mit eingebautem Laser. Beitrag Di Nov 14, 0: Ansichten Lesen Bearbeiten Quelltext bearbeiten Versionsgeschichte. Das finde ich wieder einmal das doofe an den Filmen generell: Doch bevor er seinen Plan in die Tat umsetzen kann, erfährt Bond in Venedig, dass Vesper Lynd durch Erpressung gezwungen wurde, den Terroristen das Geld persönlich zu überreichen. Nachdem die Produzenten Daniel Craig die Szene spielen sahen, war ihnen klar — er muss der neue werden! Köln bvb immer hier passieren wird, ist für mich also ein Spaziergang. Ist ein Animationsfilm der auf alt getrimmt ist. Die raue Neuorientierung des Franchise ist mit mehr 900 west casino road everett Bravour geglückt. Nach einer scheinbaren Aussöhnung begeht Vesper dann überraschend Selbstmord. Erstmals musste sich der Schauspieler Daniel Craig als James Bond inszenieren us präsidenten wahl er war der sechste Schauspieler, der diese Rolle spielte — und hatte dabei offenbar Erfolg: James Bond Eva Green: Künftig nur noch Onlinepoker? Er ist sich darüber im Klaren, dass er seinen Dienst quittieren muss, damit sie beide eine köln bvb Zukunft haben, und ist auch zu australien a league Schritt bereit. Wenn du die Website weiter nutzt, gehen wir von deinem Einverständnis aus. Hit it rich casino chips man Casino Royale originalgetreu verfilmen will, dann muss diese Szene rein, denn sie prägt für. Allein mit Blicken, Pokerblättern, dem Erhöhen von Einsätzen und dem Lesen ihres Gegenübers entfachen der von sich überzeugte Bond und der berechnende Le Chiffre ein Duell, affinitas berlin es höchstens noch spannender sein könnte, wenn um sie herum Haie kreisen würden und sie Eier auf den Askgamblers vegas hero balancieren müssten, aus denen jeden Moment Schlangen zu schlüpfen herr mendel casino royal. November in London startete der Film am
It is played in the scene of Vesper Lynd recruiting Evelyn Tremble, seen through a man-size aquarium in a seductive walk.
It was heard again in the first Austin Powers film, which was to a degree inspired by Casino Royale. Bacharach would later rework two tracks of the score into songs: A clarinet melody would later be featured in a Cracker Jack commercial.
The original album cover art was done by Robert McGinnis , based on the film poster and the original stereo vinyl release of the soundtrack Colgems COSO That record has been regarded by some music critics as the finest-sounding LP of all time, and is still highly sought after by audiophiles.
The soundtrack album became famous among audio purists for the excellence of its recording. It then became a standard "audiophile test" record for decades to come, especially the vocal performance by Dusty Springfield on "The Look of Love.
The film soundtrack has since been released by other companies in different configurations including complete score releases. The highly regarded master tapes were damaged, however, during a s remastering so none of the subsequent re-releases are considered to be as fine as the original LP release.
However, during filming the project ran into several problems and the shoot ran months over schedule, with the costs also running well over.
When the film was finally completed it had doubled its original budget. The problems postponed the launch until April No advance press screenings of Casino Royale were held, leading reviews to only appear after the premiere.
A few recent reviewers have been more impressed by the film. Andrea LeVasseur, in the AllMovie review, called it "the original ultimate spy spoof", and opined that the "nearly impossible to follow" plot made it "a satire to the highest degree".
Further describing it as a "hideous, zany disaster" LeVasseur concluded that it was "a psychedelic, absurd masterpiece".
It is the anti-auteur work of all time, a film shaped by the very zeitgeist it took on. In his review of the film, Leonard Maltin remarked, "Money, money everywhere, but [the] film is terribly uneven — sometimes funny, often not.
Fox has since been responsible for the debut of the Casino Royale on Blu-ray disc in From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. This article is about the film.
For the film, see Casino Royale film. For other uses, see Casino Royale. British cinema poster by Robert McGinnis. Famous Artists Productions .
James Bond portal s portal Film portal. These figures refer to rentals accruing to the distributors. Retrieved September 12, Bisset, after playing the casino extra in early footage, was cast again as Miss Goodthighs.
The Encyclopedia of British Film. Federal Reserve Bank of Minneapolis. Retrieved 2 January Archived from the original on 14 March Retrieved 9 March When the Snow Melts: The Autobiography of Cubby Broccoli.
The Grey Fox of Hollywood. Archived from the original on 28 September Retrieved 13 September Archived from the original on 29 October Archived from the original on 13 April Retrieved 13 April Archived from the original on 24 September Archived from the original on 16 August Retrieved 25 July A Biography of Peter Sellers.
Casino Royale ". The Music of James Bond. Archived from the original on 4 March Retrieved 5 April Archived from the original on 19 January Retrieved 22 December The New York Times.
Archived from the original on 22 October Archived from the original on 19 August Retrieved 7 July Archived from the original on 12 January Retrieved 12 August Du Pont leant forward from the other side of his wife: They stood behind and to either side of the banker.
His whole long body was restless, and his hands shifted often on the brass rail. Bond guessed that he would kill without interest or concern for what he killed, and that he would prefer strangling.
He had something of Lennie in Of Mice and Men, but his inhumanity would not come from infantilism but from drugs. The other man looked like a Corsican shopkeeper.
He was short and very dark with a flat head covered with thickly greased hair. He seemed to be a cripple. A chunky Malacca cane with a rubber tip hung on a rail beside him.
He must have had permission to bring the cane into the Casino with him, reflected Bond, who knew that neither sticks nor any other objects were allowed in the rooms as a precaution against acts of violence.
He looked sleek and well fed. His mouth hung vacantly half open and revealed very bad teeth. He wore a heavy black moustache, and the backs of his hands on the rail were matted with black hair.
Bond guessed that hair covered most of his squat body. The game continued uneventfully, but with a slight bias against the bank.
Your luck can defeat the first and second tests, but when the third deal comes along it most often spells disaster.
Again and again at this point you find yourself being bounced back to earth. It was like that now. Neither the bank nor any of the players seemed to be able to get hot.
Bond had no idea what profits Le Chiffre had made over the past two days. In fact, Le Chiffre had lost heavily all that afternoon.
At this moment he only had ten million left. Bond was cautiously pleased. Le Chiffre showed no trace of emotion.
He continued to play like an automaton, never speaking except when he gave in- structions in a low aside to the croupier at the opening of each new bank.
Outside the pool of silence round the high table, there was the constant hum of the other tables, chemin-de- - fer, roulette, and trente-et-quarante, interspersed with the clear calls of the croupiers and occasional bursts of laughter or gasps of excitement from different corners of the huge salle.
In the background there thudded always the hidden metronome of the Casino, ticking up its little treasure of one-per-cents with each spin of a wheel and each turn of a card — a pulsing fat-cat with a zero for a heart.
The Greek at Number 1 was still having a bad time. He had lost the first coup of half a million francs and the second. He passed the third time, leaving a bank of two millions.
Carmel Delane at Number 2 refused it. So did Lady Danvers at Number 3. The Du Ponts looked at each other. Again he fixed Le Chiffre with his eye.
Again he gave only a cursory look at his two cards. He held a marginal five. The position was dangerous. Le Chiffre turned up a knave and a four.
He gave the shoe another slap. He drew a three. And lost again, to a natural nine. In two coups he had lost twelve million francs. Suddenly Bond felt the sweat on his palms.
Like snow in sunshine his capital had melted. With the covetous deliberation of the winning gambler, Le Chiffre was tapping a light tattoo on the table with his right hand.
Bond looked across into the eyes of murky basalt. They held an ironical question. There was no hint in his movements that this would be his last stake.
His mouth felt suddenly as dry as flock wall-paper. He looked up and saw Vesper and Felix Leiter standing where the gunman with the stick had stood.
He did not know how long they had been standing there. He heard a faint rattle on the rail behind him and turned his head.
The battery of bad teeth under the black moustache gaped vacantly back at him. The light from the broad satin-lined shades which had seemed so welcoming now seemed to take the colour out of his hand as he glanced at the cards.
Then he looked again. It was nearly as bad as it could have been — the king of hearts and an ace, the ace of spades. It squinted up at him like a black widow spider.
Le Chiffre faced his own two cards. He had a queen and a black five. He looked at Bond and pressed out another card with a wide forefinger.
The table was ab- solutely silent. He faced it and flicked it away. The croupier lifted it delicately with his spatula and slipped it over to Bond.
It was a good card, the five of hearts, but to Bond it was a difficult fingerprint in dried blood. He now had a count of six and Le Chiffre a count of five, but the banker having a five and giving a five, would and must draw another card and try and improve with a one, two, three, or four.
Drawing any other card he would be defeated. It was, unnecessarily, the best, a four, giving the bank a count of nine. He had won, almost slowing up.
Bond was beaten and cleaned out. He opened his wide black case and took out a cigarette. He snapped open the tiny jaws of the Ronson and lit the cigarette and put the lighter back on the table.
He took a deep lungful of smoke and expelled it between his teeth with a faint hiss. Back to the hotel and bed, avoiding the commiserating eyes of Mathis and Leiter and Vesper: He looked round the table and up at the spectators.
Few were looking at him. Leiter had vanished, not wishing to look Bond in the eye after the knock-out, he supposed.
Yet Vesper looked curiously unmoved, she gave him a smile of en- couragement. But then, Bond reflected, she knew nothing of the game. Had no notion, probably, of the bitterness of his defeat.
The huissier was coming towards Bond inside the rail. He stopped beside him. Placed a squat envelope beside Bond on the table. It was as thick as a dictionary.
Said something about the caisse. He took the heavy anonymous envelope below the level of the table and slit it open with his thumbnail, noticing that the gum was still wet on the flap.
Unbelieving and yet knowing it was true, he felt the broad wads of notes. He slipped them into his pockets, retaining the half-sheet of notepaper which was pinned to the topmost of them.
He glanced at it in the shadow below the table. There was one line of writing in ink: With the compliments of the U.
He looked over towards Vesper. Felix Leiter was again standing beside her. He grinned slightly, and Bond smiled back and raised his hand from the table in a small gesture of benediction.
Then he set his mind to sweeping away all traces of the sense of complete defeat which had swamped him a few minutes before.
This was a reprieve, but only a reprieve. There could be no more miracles. This time he had to win— if Le Chif fre had not already made his fifty million — if he was going to go on!
Perhaps, thought Bond, Le Chiffre needed just one more coup, even a minor one of a few million francs, to achieve his object. Then he would have made his fifty million francs and would leave the table.
By tomorrow his deficits would be covered and his position secure. Then the only hope, thought Bond, was to stamp on him how. Not to share the bank with the table, or to take some minor r part of it, but to go the whole hog.
This would really jolt Le Chiffre. He would hate to see more than ten or fifteen million of the stake covered, and he could not possibly expect anyone to banco the entire thirty-two millions.
He might not know that Bond had been cleaned out, but he must imagine that Bond had by now only small reserves.
He could not know of the contents of the envelope. If he did, he would probably withdraw the bank and start all over again on the wearisome journey up from the five hundred franc opening bet.
The analysis was right. Le Chiffre needed another eight million. At last he nodded. A silence built itself up round the table.
Besides, this was won- derful publicity. The stake had only once been reached in the history of baccarat — at Deauville in It was then that Bond leant slightly forward.
The word ran through the Casino. For most of them it was more than they had earned all their lives. It was their savings and the savings of their families.
It was, literally, a small fortune. One of the Casino directors consulted with the chef de partie. The chef de partie turned apologetically to Bond.
It was an indication that Bond really must show he had the money to coyer the bet. They knew, of course, that he was a very wealthy man, but after all, thirty-two millions!
And it sometimes happened that desperate people would bet without a sou in the world and cheer- fully go to prison if they lost.
It was when Bond shovelled the great wad of notes out on to the table and the croupier busied himself with the task of counting the pinned sheaves of ten thousand franc notes, the largest denomination issued in France, that he caught a swift exchange of glances between Le Chiffre and the gunman standing directly behind Bond.
Immediately he felt something hard press into the base of his spine, right into the cleft between his two buttocks on the padded chair.
At the same time a thick voice speaking southern French said softly, urgently, just behind his right ear: It is absolutely silent.
You will appear to have fainted. I shall be gone. Withdraw your bet before I count ten. If you call for help I shall fire. These people had shown they would unhesitatingly go the limit.
The thick walking stick was explained. Bond knew the type of gun. The barrel a series of soft rubber baffles which absorbed the detonation, but allowed the passage of the bullet.
They had been invented and used in the v. Bond had tested them himself. Bond turned his head. There was the man, leaning forward close behind him, smiling broadly under his black moustache as if he were wishing Bond luck, com- pletely secure in the noise and the crowd.
The discoloured teeth came together. His eyes glittered back at Bond. His mouth was open, and he was breathing fast.
They were smiling and talking to each other. Where were those famous men of his? This crowd of jabbering idiots. The chef de partie, the croupier, the huissier?
The chef de partie bowed smilingly towards Bond. It was a chance. He carefully moved his hands to the edge of the table, gripped it, edged his buttocks right back, feeling the sharp gun-sight grind into his coccyx.
The back of the chair splintered with the sharp crack. There were cries of dismay. The spectators cringed away and then, reassured, clustered back.
Hands helped him to his feet and brushed him down. The huissier bustled up with the chef de partie. At all costs a scandal must be avoided. Bond held on to the brass rail.
He looked confused and embarrassed. He brushed his hand across his forehead. Naturally, with this tremendous game.
Would Monsieur prefer to with- draw, to lie down, to go home? Should a doctor be fetched? Bond shook his head. He was perfectly all right now.
His excuses to the table. To the banker also. A new chair was brought and he sat down. He looked across at Le Chiffre.
Through his relief at being alive, he felt a moment of triumph at what he saw— some fear in the fat, pale face.
There was a buzz of speculation round the table. He turned to examine the crowd behind him. There was no trace of the gunman, but the huissier was looking for someone to claim the Malacca stick.
But it no longer carried a rubber tip. Bond beckoned to him. It belongs to an acquaintance of his. Bond grimly reflected that a short examination would reveal to Leiter why he had made such an embarrassing public display of himself.
He turned back to the table and tapped the green cloth in front of him to show that he was ready. Le Chiffre hit the shoe with a flat-handed slap that made it rattle.
As an afterthought he took out his benzedrine inhaler and sucked the vapour up his nose. By a miracle he had sur- vived a devastating wound.
He could feel his armpits still wet with the fear of it. But the success of his gambit with the chair had wiped out all memories of the dread- ful valley of defeat through which he had just passed.
He had made a fool of himself. They must not fail him. In the silence round his own table, Bond suddenly heard a distant croupier intone: Le rouge gagne, impair et manque.
The two cards slithered towards him across the green sea. Like an octopus under a rock, Le Chiffre watched him from the other side of the table.
Bond reached out a steady right hand and drew the cards towards him. Would it be the lift of the heart which a nine brings, or an eight brings?
He fanned the two cards under the curtain of his hand. His whole body stiffened in a reflex of self- defence.
He had two queens, two red queens. They looked rougishly back at him from the shadows. They were the worst. The banker slowly turned his own two cards face up.
He had a count of three — a king and a black three. Bond softly exhaled a cloud of tobacco smoke. He still had a chance. Now he was really faced with the moment of truth.
The croupier slipped it delicately across. To Le Chiffre it meant nothing. Or he might have had a two, three, four, or even five.
In which case, with nine, his maximum count would be four. Holding a three and giving a nine is one of the moot situations at the game.
The odds are so nearly divided between to draw or not to draw. Bond let the banker sweat it out. Since his nine could only be equalled by the banker drawing a six, he would normally have shown his count if it had been a friendly game.
The whole secret lay in the reverse of the two pink backs where the pair of queens kissed the green cloth. His thick tongue came out slyly and licked a drop out of the corner of his red gash of a mouth.
Then his whole body shrugged and he slipped out a card for himself from the lisping shoe. It was a wonderful card, a five.
He must have won. There was not a man at the table who did not believe Bond was defeated. The spatula flicked the two pink cards over on their backs.
The gay red queens smiled up at the lights. The big man fell back in his chair as if slugged above the heart. Then he rocked back.
His lips were grey. As the huge stack of plaques was shunted across the table to Bond the banker reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and threw a wad of notes on to the table.
The croupier riffled through them. He slapped down their equivalent in ten plaques of a million each. This is the kill, thought Bond.
This man has reached the point of no return. This is the last of his capital. He has come to where I stood an hour ago, and he is making the last gesture that I made.
But if this man loses there is no one to come to his aid, no miracle to help him. Bond sat back arid lit a cigarette. On a small table beside him half a bottle of Clicquot and a glass had materialized.
Without asking who the benefactor was, Bond filled the glass to the brim and drank it down in two long draughts. Then he leant back with his arms curled forward on the table in front of him like the arms of a wrestler seeking a hold at the opening of a bout of ju-jitsu.
The players on his left remained silent. Once more the two cards were borne over to him, and this time the croupier slipped them into the green lagoon between the outstretched arms.
Bond curled his right hand in, glanced briefly down and flipped the cards face up into the middle of the table.
Le Chiffre was gazing down at his own two black kings. He unhooked the velvet- covered chain and let it fall. The spectators opened a way for him.
They looked at him curiously and rather fearfully as if he carried the smell of death on him. He took a hundred-mille plaque from the stacks beside him and slipped it across the table to the chef de partie.
He cut short the effusive thanks and asked the croupier to have his winnings carried to the caisse. The other players were leaving their seats. With no banker, there could be no game, and by now it was half-past two.
He exchanged some pleasant words with his neighbours to right and left and then ducked under the rail to where Vesper and Felix Leiter were waiting for him.
Together they walked over to the caisse. Bond was invited to come into the private office of the Casino directors. On the desk lay his huge pile of chips.
He added the contents of his pockets to it. In all there was over seventy million francs. He was congratulated warmly on his winnings.
The directors hoped that he would be playing again that evening. Bond gave an evasive reply. For a few minutes they discussed the game over a bottle of champagne.
He Was as puzzled as we were by the spill you took. He was standing at the back of the crowd with one of his men when it happened. The gunman got away without difficulty.
You can imagine how they kicked themselves when they saw the gun. Mathis gave me this bullet to show you what you escaped.
The man came in alone. He got permission to bring the stick in with him. He had a cer- tificate for a war-wound pension.
These people certainly get themselves well organized. You certainly took Le Chiffre for a ride at the end, though we had some bad moments. I expect you did too.
I thought I was really finished. Talk about a friend in need. He might get ideas. What do you think? She had hardly said a word since the end of the game.
You get to it through the public rooms. It looks quite cheerful. Leiter looked at him and read his mind. Might as well convoy the treasure ship right into port.
Both had their hands on their guns. The short walk was uneventful. At the hotel, Leiter insisted on accompanying Bond to his room. It was as Bond had left it six hours before.
Do you think I ought to stay up and keep you two company? I hope we get on a job again one day. He went out and closed the door.
Bond turned back to the friendliness of his room. He went into the bathroom and dashed cold water over his face and gargled with a sharp mouthwash.
He felt the bruises on the back of his head and on his right shoulder. He reflected cheerfully how narrowly he had twice that day escaped being murdered.
Would he have to sit up all that night and wait for them to come again, or was Le Chiffre even now on his way to Le Havre or Bordeaux to pick up a boat for some corner of the world where he could escape the eyes and guns of SMERSH?
Bond shrugged his shoulders. Sufficient unto that day had been its evil. He wanted her cold and arrogant body. He turned away and took out of his pocket the cheque for forty million francs.
He folded this very small. Then he opened the door and looked up and down the corridor. He left the door wide open and with his ears cocked for footsteps or the sound of the lift, he set to work with a small screwdriver.
Five minutes later he gave a last-minute survey to his handiwork, put some fresh cigarettes in his case, closed and locked the door, and went off down the corridor and across the hall and out into the moonlight.
The night club was small and dark, lit only by candles in gilded candelabra whose warm light was repeated in wall mirrors set in more gold picture-frames.
The walls were covered in dark red satin, and the chairs and banquettes in matching red plush. Seduction dripped on the quietly throbbing air.
It seemed to Bond that every couple must be touching with passion under the tables. They were given a corner table near the door. Bond ordered a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and scrambled eggs and bacon.
They sat for a time listening to the music, and then Bond turned to Vesper: She seemed to be listening carefully to the music.
One elbow rested on the table, and her hand supported her chin, but on the back of her hand and not on the palm; and Bond noticed that her knuckles showed white as if her fist was tightly clenched.
Bond noticed these small things because he felt in- tensely aware of her and because he wanted to draw her into his own feeling of warmth and relaxed sensuality.
But he accepted her reserve. He thought it came from a desire to protect herself from him, or else it was her reaction to his coolness to her earlier in the evening, his deliberate coolness, which he knew had been taken as a rebuff.
He drank champagne and talked a little about the happenings of the day and about the per- sonalities of Mathis and Leiter and about the possible consequences for Le Chiffre.
He was discreet, and he only talked about the aspects of the case on which she must have been briefed by London. They could not believe that anything would be attempted in the Casino itself.
Di- rectly Bond and Leiter had left to walk over to the hotel, she had telephoned Paris and told M. She had had to speak guardedly, and the agent had rung off without comment.
She had been told to do this whatever the result. This was all she said. She sipped at her champagne and rarely glanced at Bond.
He drank a lot of champagne and ordered another bottle. The scrambled eggs came, and they ate in silence. He handed her a note which she took and read hastily.
Then perhaps we could go home. He sat down and lit a cigarette. He sud- denly realized that he was tired.
The stuffiness of the room hit him as it had hit him in the Casino in the early hours of the previous day.
He called for the bill and took a last mouthful of champagne. It tasted bitter, as the first glass too many always does. Suddenly the note to Vesper seemed odd to him.
He would have asked them both to join him at the bar of the Casino, or he would have joined them in the night club, whatever his clothes.
They would have laughed together, and Mathis would have been excited. He had much to tell Bond, more than Bond had to tell him: He hastily paid the bill, not waiting for the change.
He hurried through the gaming-room and looked carefully up and down the long entrance hall. He cursed and quickened his step.
There were only one or two of- ficials and two or three men and women in evening clothes getting their things at the vestiaire.
He was almost running. He got to the entrance and looked along the steps to the left and right down and amongst the few remaining cars.
The commissionaire came towards him. He was halfway down when he heard a faint cry, then the slam of a door away to the right.
With a harsh growl and stutter from the exhaust a beetle-browed Citroen shot out of the shadows into the light of the moon, its front- wheel drive dry-skidding through the loose pebbles of the forecourt.
She introduces him to Le Chiffre who is the Chief Soviet Agent in the area and is nearly always accompanied by three henchman called Basil, Zoltan and Zuroff.
Written by Jamie Skinner. A lot has to be forgiven here. First, this is a recording of a live performance - when something went wrong, they were stuck with it; and since this is cheaply made, they had little rehearsal time, so a quite a number of things go wrong.
Secondly, the surviving recording is incomplete and not very good. And really, prime Hitchcock is the director Fleming would have had in mind while writing this book.
His ability to shock audiences was well known, but his capacity for sophisticated wit and subtle irony were not easy for most Americans to grasp at the time.
For Fleming, this was a means of preserving the "hard-boiled" detective tradition while at the same time raising uncomfortable questions about what it meant to live comfortably middle-class in cold-war England.
Never pointed enough to threaten middle-class readers, but enough to raise their anxiety level to the point of continued interest in the James Bond series.
The rest bulls through or stumbles along as one might expect from an American genre thriller of the time. The major plus factors here are the performances.
Most of the cast is miscast, but performs energetically despite that; Peter Lorre performs very weakly, but he happens to be perfectly cast - he is the definitive Le Chiffre!
That surprising discovery is reason enough to find this show and give it a view, at least for Bond aficionados. Plus, we hear why more than one celeb wants to be snowed in with Idris Elba.
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