From Russia with Love (1963) and The November Man (2014)

Sean Connery-era classic Bond “From Russia With Love” (1963) is unapologetically mean, early 1960s fun and danger, crude indeed, the absolute best of the 007 series as our hero knowingly enters a trap to snatch a top secret Enigma-code like device from the Russians. 

Except it’s not the Russians setting the trap, its SPECTRE, the terrorist group led by an unseen Blofed and fronted by a blonde thug (Robert Shaw) who seems to embody a Hitler Youth fantasy and a madwoman fascist (Lotte Lenya) with a steel-toe kick. Connery nails the film without lifting an eyebrow or breaking a sweat. His train car tussle with Shaw is one of the best fight scenes ever, and “Russia” only gets better with a boat chase, a helicopter terror hunt, and a finale inside a hotel room. It’s perfect cool. 

Now, later Bond man Pierce Brosnan goes all wrong in the forgettable, drab “The November Man” (2014) as a professional assassin who trains his protégé to never fall in love and birth children, and then secretly… well, you know. Right? I mean, here’s a spy film where you can guess every next spy-plot twist and sit back and watch it. Yawning. Brosnan is too good for this.

Russia: A November: C-

The Thomas Crown Affair (1999)

This is rare: A remake smarter and cooler than the original. John McTiernan’s takes on 1968’s “The Thomas Crown Affair” starred Steve McQueen and Faye Dunanway and spun on a bank-robber billionaire. Here, Pierce Brosnan and Rene Russo -- at the height of their stardom -– are in the spotlight with an art museum theft as the central plot device. Great change up. Brosnan is a Wall Street master who has grown bored with acquisitions and the back-slapping hoopla of taking other people’s money. But he loves oil and canvas, and a thrill. So he takes a Monet from New York’s Met. In broad daylight. During a giddy fun sideshow to a full-on robbery he orchestrated. Russo is the insurance investigator who care shit about art, but only the chase. She knows Crown did the theft, and he knows that she knows. Is the art the thing here? No. It's two bored powerful people who finally found the one who makes them tick. “Crown” is smart, damn sexy, and funny, with an insider streak that plays on the stars’ wattage, New York ego, and the prior film with Dunaway playing a wink-wink role. Brosnan and Russo are perfectly matched. B+

The Long Good Friday (1980)

“The Long Good Friday” is an absolute pinnacle classic gangster film in the U.K., place of my birth. Here in the States, not so much. It may not have glory and prestige of “The Godfather” or “Goodfellas,” but it belongs in the same esteemed crime family. This is a hard-scrapple bitchin’ bloody mafia flick about a common London mafia thug who has risen to the level of Godfather, and now he wants to go legit.

It’s 1979, and in several years’ time, the city is expected to play host to the Olympics. (It’s fictional, youz guys.) Harold Shand (Bob Hoskins) wants to buy up London’s real estate abutting the Thames River for development, with promised riches beyond compare to come. His investors? The American Mob. Guy ain’t going legit, just thinks he is, or tells us he is. Oh, but the IRA is bugging about, as one of his men has double-crossed them, and ended up knifed in a gay bathhouse.

The title is on purpose. It’s a long and bloody Easter weekend when Shant’s mob life goes to a violent hell, with bombings, murders, and threats galore, and one man will end up nailed Jesus-style to a floor. Hopkins has never been better or scarier, or more volatile, you can smell the brimstone coming off the guy through the TV set. When he rips a man’s throat apart with a broken whiskey bottle, it’s still a shocker, even on a 10th viewing. (I love this film.)

Helen Mirren is just amazing as Shants’ girlfriend-slash-brutal brains of the mob operation; every equal smarts to Hopkins’ brutality. She has to be one of the greatest actresses ever, period, end of story. Royally good. I will not stoop to a “Queen” joke, err, damn. Sorry.

The film starts off a puzzle box, with seemingly random scenes of dealings and bar hook ups and body dumps, all coming together at the end, in a wordless climax that should have won Hopkins an Oscar and can stand aside any scene in the more well-known films made by Coppola or Scorsese. Scotsman John Mackenzie is the director. He never made a better film and he died without merely a blip in the news this past June. Criminal indeed. (I cannot say I have seen his other work.)

Oh, and bonus points for “Remington Steele” and James Bond fans, this is Piece Brosnan’s first film rule, and he plays a wordless assassin who goes from man-on-man bathhouse shower action, I mean the kind that would send GOP voters into shock, to killer in a flash. But, hey, he uses a gun, so GOP voters will dig that, eh? Seriously, if you dig crime film, watch this, then put it in your collection. A+

The Ghost Writer (2010)

Let’s me say it upfront: Roman Polanski is an snake bastard. The guy should be in prison, not making films. But, damn it, he is one gifted filmmaker. His latest movie is “The Ghost Writer,” a tense thriller that packs a political grenade inside a cache of classic movie lying, cheating, double crosses and swindling. It recalls those great thrillers from when I was a babe, such as “The Conversation.” It also maybe a very dark comedy/satire ala "The Manchurian Candidate."

Ewan McGregor plays the never-named title character, a novelist on the skids who takes a job as the second ghost writer of the in-the-works autobiography of one Adam Lang, former Prime Minister of England and now the target of a possible war crimes trial. Why the second? The first fella drowned, washed up on a New England beach after a fall from a ferry. Or some such incident. Soon enough, Writer No. 2 finds himself in the kind of trouble that would send Bruce Willis into a coma.

“Ghost Writer” crosses the tracks and double backs a dozen times, and even if I saw some of the path ahead, I sure as hell didn’t know exactly how I was going to get there. Nearly every scene, including the final frame, can be taken at least three ways, and all of them more clever than the last. (And funny, darkly nasty funny.) MIA from any real good film since 2001’s “Moulin Rouge,” it’s a treat to see McGregor back in leading-man status. And is it me, or is Brosnan at his best playing a dick?

When Polanski is released from prison after many years, I hope the SOB goes back to work. Movies such as this are too scarce in today’s “Transformers,” spandex-wearing super hero world. Enjoy it while it lasts. And, yeah, I feel dirty for liking this man's work. A-