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BY MAGGIE SCOTT

You’ll be shaken, but not stirred by the new James Bond film, “Quantum of Solace.” Author Ian Fleming’s short story title is enigmatic; as is 007 (Daniel Craig), who returns from the action of “Casino Royale” haunted by the death of his ladylove, Vesper, and by the need for vengeance.

That simmering anguish has only heightened a characteristic that one could never accuse the suave Sean Connery’s Bond of exhibiting. Craig’s Bond has let his inner thug out; and there will be precious little in this story by Paul Haggis, Neal Purvis and Robert Wade of the iconic smooth, wise-cracking, seductive secret agent who never met a villain or femme fatale he couldn’t conquer.

Craig is ill-served by the sparsely creative script. His Bond still cuts a formidable figure: able to leap tall buildings, fly crippled planes through jagged canyons, drive cars, motorcycles and speedboats through mind-boggling obstacles, go mano-a-mano with crazed adversaries in fire-engulfed buildings—etcetera, etcetera.

There’s still nobody that does it better; but this time it looks like work and feels like every word and every action is by rote. M (Judi Dench) is still suspicious and harping. Her Majesty’s Secret Service is in a dither about Quantum, an organization that has managed to stay off the radar of MI6 and claims to “have people everywhere.”

Before Bond is able to confirm that Vesper was linked to Quantum, his source is dead and the assassin who silenced him is the first casualty in what appears to M to be Bond’s determination to “kill every possible lead,” because he is “blinded by inconsolable rage.”

Bond’s sleuthing takes him to Haiti, where he meets Camille (Olga Kurylenko), a woman with her own vendetta. She’s the friend of Dominic Greene (Mathieu Almaric), a pasty-faced crackpot determined to control one of the world’s vital resources. He is exploiting the political instability of Bolivia to that end.

Courting a general for a deal that would exchange control of the country for control of its water, Dominic is willing to offer Camille as a deal-sweetener. What he doesn’t know is that far from being willing to be “dropped over the side” once the general is through with her, she has her own plans to take revenge on the man who left her with a scarred back and a dead father.

Although their paths crisscross for a bit, as Bond goes rogue and reconnects with old friend Rene Mathis (Giancarlo Giannini) and CIA cohort Felix Leiter (Jeffrey Wright), he and Camille finally combine forces to face Greene in the deserts of Bolivia.

Without a goosebump-raising villain or temperature-raising beauties (Bond’s one-and-only romantic encounter is prefaced by the ludicrous come-on in his posh hotel room to help him “find the stationary”), this is a Bond film that feels oddly emasculated; a pale imitation of countless Bond film-wannabes.

There is no sense at the end of this film of mission accomplished or the satisfaction of seeing Bond in the arms of a woman, usually on water, dodging the prying eyes of MI6 at the end of a job well and thrillingly done, as was more-or-less a given at the conclusion of several of this film’s predecessors. Here, Bond may have found answers and some peace; but his struggle has not ended in the warmth of victory and sensual delight.

Like the snow that swallows his figure at the story’s end, Bond is still frozen in heart and spirit. Hoping for a lighter touch and a return to what made the old Bond irresistible, it is still possible to begin craving the next film in the indomitable Bond franchise; and with a quantum of inspiration and effort, for us to get the film fans deserve. A Columbia Pictures release, rated PG-13 for violence.

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