This period of the year is a commemoration of an aging tradition and a world-renowned symbol. No, it’s not Christmas. It’s the release of another James Bond flick. No matter how disgustingly unbelievable the elements those films incorporate, one sequel after another, men are never bored by the non-stop action, and the dripping sexuality and complete looseness of the Bond girls and female villains, and the women… well, I don’t know what the hell they like…

Except I do… We now have a new main character to withstand the ultimate Bond test, which is a combination of giving girl instant orgasms and timely delivery of ass-kickery. Daniel Craig is supposed to portray the machismo that defines “007”, and I’m happy to announce that he passes the trial with flying colors. In fact, he’s the best Bond after Sean Connery, even going to the extent of making Pierce Brosnan look like Paris Hilton, whose head and vagina signify two deserted presidential suites on opposite sides of the world’s-largest Las Vegas Hilton hotel.

We catch the Martini drinker early in his career, trialed to gain “007” status and the son of a bitch does it. The movie starts with one of the most invigorating action sequences. In Africa, a rundown takes place after what seems like a adrenaline-pumped half-monkey half-gymnast-turned-professional terrorist in order to gain information and clues about a recent series of bombings. This scene alone turns a fresh page in the British intelligence and espionage chapter. Bond’s mission this time around is to hinder the devilish plans of an international terrorist, mathematical prodigy and therefore top poker player, Le Chiffre (Mads Mikkelsen) by slashing his financial veins. It seems, when all else fails, beating him at his own game of poker seems like the only sensible out.

Who’s the Bond girl this time? It’s none other than the French-born Eva Green. While Eva isn’t frighteningly beautiful, she most definitely exudes a raw sense of sexuality and charm. It’s a term–some might use–called “cute”. She fits the role of Vesper Lynd, the British government financier, like a puzzle piece, complimenting Bond so perfectly that you find yourself smiling whenever they are both in the same wide screen lobbing retorts at each other.

In conclusion, if have you a doughnut holder, you should be in the theater right now watching Casino Royale instead of reading my blabber. If you don’t have a doughnut holder, you should drag someone who does and go to the theater and watch this friggin’ movie with them.