Casino Royale (1967) (part 13 of 13)
So, here we are, pulling into the home stretch at last. I wish I could say it’s a cakewalk from here, but unfortunately, this is about the most chaotic, painful part of the film. In accordance with all “madcap” comedies made in the late ’60s, Casino Royale completely goes off the rails in the final minutes, and drops all semblance of story, continuity, character, and plot. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t around at the time to understand the trend, but to me this type of ending feels like a massive fuck you to anyone in the audience who just spent two hours following (or in this case, desperately trying to follow) an actual story with, you know, characters. But, whatever. This whole movie is a mess, so it’s only fitting that the ending is a nightmare. Bring on the hijinks!
Well, before we get to that, there’s one final bit with Woody Allen. Woody-Bond is easily the funniest part of this movie. This is mostly because, as others have observed, his scenes appear to be stolen directly from early Woody Allen comedies. And what comes next is no exception.
Woody is now in a chamber with round, earth-tone walls, where… well, how to explain this? One of the female 007 agents is tied up with restraints on an examination bed, while several of Woody-Bond’s fem-goons, wearing orange welding visors [?], stand guard around her. Oh, and she’s completely naked, except for two metallic straps that oh so conveniently cover up her naughty parts.