I would like to call it Quantum of Suckage but cannot quite.

It was decent, C+ popcorn 007 action formula movie fun. On the plus side, it was short. We were out of there in two hours, even after the delay starting our midnight showing and the four gazillion previews and commercials before the damn movie.

As Casino Royale did a little nod to Dr. No, Quantum of Solace does Goldfinger a solid, along with other “classic you know they are on the Death Watch list ‘cause they shook Bond’s hand” staples. Or something to that effect.

But I think this one was just too formula, not enough plot. Or rather too much sequel plot, with way too much being made of the whole revenge of the last movie thing. Telling you if I heard that chick’s name (which I refuse to type here) one more time, I was going to scream.

We. Get . It. He liked a girl, she got dead. The last movie did nothing to convince me she was the aack Soul Mate or great Love of His Life, so Quantum of Solace sure of shit will not. So quit having M and other random friends fluffing and enabling. She dead. Let it go.

One issue with the Daniel Craig as Bond, as he is all of 5 feet tall, makes for some short ass, no-name bad guys. That said, there is no way in hell a Nancy-boy, corporate type wanna-be soldier should last five seconds (much less longer!) mano-a-mano with a well trained assassin like James freaking Bond. No way.

The smoking hot yet vertically challenged Bond also calls for petite women, not uncommon. The only women with speaking parts: random English agent #1, Bond Girl-of-the-movie fellow agent, and M (the always solid Dame Judi Dench). Oh, and Wireless from Heroes.

The only other women in the entire movie were at galas, parties or running around MI6; no one was above a size 8, wore anything other that 4-inch stilettos with only a few older than 30. Yes I know it is Bond, just saying it stands out, for example:

In the ber-modern glass and chrome and 60-foot iPhone touch screen offices of MI6 (like nice allocation of government resources, swanky, see-through offices of the Secret Service) all the non-SAG suit wearing extras were mostly men, and skinny women in ridiculous, tall skinny heels.

Familiar characters are underused (Felix) or gone (replacement Q). Much expense is poked at governments in general, particularly the US and what we are all willing to do for oil. Which brings us back to the so called Oil-as-MacGuffin plot that feels like a Bourne-style sequel designed to set up the next film, with its introduction of shadowy Spectre-like Quantum.

But that is where it ends, just when we expect one bad guy to lead us to more, bigger badder guys. So that leaves us waiting for Thunderball.

Final Snark: explosions and smoke and testosterone and sex, that nose you expect with nothing new. Been there, done that.