I continue to be impressed (after two films) by the Bond persona established by Daniel Craig - and, as a die-hard Sean Connery guy, this is really saying something.

Craig's Bond is no suave sophisticate whose sly smile beams out on a world entirely under his control; nay, this is a dark, brooding, Shakespearean-tragic Bond ("is this a Walther PPK I see before me?"), whose view of things is clouded by his perception of the world as a cruel and inhumane place to spend one's days. If he happens to be better at dodging bullets (and dispensing them) than others, this ends up rebounding as a double-edged sword, leaving him around to count the costs and absorb the psychic damage while his vanquished opponents - and allies - rest in peace.

While Quantum of Solace enhances Bond's status as a complex character worthy of our fascination, it falters somewhat in the area of nail-biting action - regardless of what you might have been led to believe by watching the quite excellently-produced, adrenaline-spiked trailer. That's because director Marc Forster - who does such a fine job working with more nuanced material (witness The Kite Runner and Stranger Than Fiction - not to mention Finding Neverland) - doesn't seem to have the fully-functional chops to pull off the jaw-dropping Bond stunts. (As Martin Campbell so clearly did in Casino Royale, it should be pointed out - making one wonder why the producers decided to pull the director's chair out from under him.)

What we're looking for (at least, what I'M looking for) when Bond slings his Aston Martin into a cliffhanging drift, or when he powers his speedboat onto a collision course trajectory with a machineguns-blazing patrol craft, is that floating-overhead viewpoint (accompanied by romantic John Barry instrumental) that shows us the scope of the deadly danger his path is leading him into.

Forster's cinematographic (and/or editing) approach is more about delivering extreme closeups and lots of flash-cuts, presumably to convey the visceral sense that cyclopian bulks are slamming into us from various random quarters. It's the equivalent of a horror movie concentrating entirely on the "leap from your seat" tactics, without any of the overarching psychological foundation having been established.

That having been said, it's by no means impossible to enjoy the movie's relentless whipsawing action - it's just a bit more challenging than it ought to be. And thus less satisfying.

Following the initial obligatory episode of Aston Martin abuse (in which the antagonist Mercedes comes out far the worse for wear), we pick up the action (and there will be only 106 minutes of it, this being the shortest Bond film in the franchise) in Tuscany, where - amidst the hubbub of the Palio di Siena - Bond chases an escaping assassin through the streets of the festival. And then across the rooftops. And then crashing down onto scaffolding inside a historic structure under renovation. It's a brutal, bludgeoning, fight-for-dear-life, race-for-the-handgun ballet, and it stands out as the most thrilling scene in the film. Though not the most spectacular.

The backstory here is that the death of Bond's recently-deceased beau, Vesper, is linked to a high-profile wheeler-dealer named Dominic Greene (Mathieu Amalric, looking a bit like Roman Polanski in his menacing Chinatown turn - though with buggier eyes). On the surface, Greene appears to be the most beneficent of philanthropists, sponsoring lavish parties to raise funds for environmental concerns - while behind the scenes, he's a professional de-stabilizer of third-world governments, working through the super-secret and all-pervasive organization he heads (known as Quantum) to corner the market on a particularly vital commodity. And you thought oil was important.

Which leads us to Haiti, where both he (Greene) and the sultry Camille (Olga Kurylenko) have an interest in winning the favors of a would-be South American dictator named Medrano (Joaquín Cosio): Greene wants to woo him; Camille wants to kill him.

Bond finds himself along for the ride. Cue speedboats, but KEEP THOSE CAMERAS FIRMLY IN CLOSEUP MODE. (And edit in plenty of flash-cuts.)

Meanwhile, M (Judi Dench) thinks Bond has thrown reason and duty to the wind and is acting only to exact personal vengeance against the killers of his beloved. Greene's henchmen, aided by the CIA - who are lodged comfortably in his pockets, excepting Bond's pal Felix Leiter (Jeffrey Wright) - make it look like Bond has murdered a former associate named Mathis (Giancarlo Giannini), leading to an APB being put out on him (Bond).

But Bond still has time to hook up for a one-nighter with local MI6 field agent Strawberry Fields (luscious Gemma Arterton) before - like a disaffected White House pooch - going officially rogue.

In what amounts to a cautionary treatise against the employment of hydrogen fuel cells (remember the Hindenburg?), a spectacular action sequence plays itself out in the atrium lobby of a desert resort - operated by Greene, natch - run entirely without resort (ahem) to ordinary energy sources. Bond battles it out hand-to-hand with Greene (who, improbably, turns out to be a talented and resourceful fighter) as the building blows up around them. Hot stuff.

There's one terrifying scene I simply can't shake from my consciousness, and which plays into the theme that our hero has flown entirely off the tracks. In it, we find Bond ordering a martini mixed with both vodka AND gin. THE HORROR!

LIKE THE OBAMA CAMPAIGN?: "We've got people everywhere" - Mr. White (Jesper Christensen), captured agent of Quantum

LIKE THE McCAIN CAMPAIGN?: "Right or wrong doesn't come into it. We're acting out of necessity." - government official, re. their alliance with Dominic Greene