For all of its subtle feminism, though, World is not perfect. Past Bond movies tended, with several notable exceptions, to practice a principle preached on several occasions by Ronald Reagan, a frequent critic of Hollywood's insatiable libido. Said Reagan, "I have always thought it was more suggestive to see a hand reach out and hang a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door." The lesson: Merely suggesting sex is often more effective than showing it onscreen.

World seems more explicit than its predecessors; even James Bond seems to be slouching toward Gommorrah. Granted, Bond has never been a poster boy for family values, but his latest film makes his womanizing less palatable by making it more visible.

And several character flaws to which Bond seemed vulnerable in past films have now surfaced, much to his disadvantage. For instance, his stoicism cedes to jealous rage when he learns that his enemy, Renard (Robbie Coltrane), had previously taken advantage of Elektra King (Sophie Marceau), Bond's latest interest. Bond's was right anger, but revealed an unprecedented dependence and emotion all the same.

Despite its minor flaws, however, World is a fine film. With any luck, it will ensure that another generation of young men are educated in the Bond tradition--sans Cold War, sans original plots, sans homely women, sans everything.

Hugh P. Liebert '01 is a social studies concentrator in Eliot House. His column appears on alternate Tuesdays.