sounds about right. The reinvented Bond franchise doesn’t need a heavy hand behind the camera, and while Marc Forster hasn’t been shy about enforcing David Fincher’s style on his movies, he can also dial it down (e.g. Finding Neverland, which was so dialed down I made like Little Nemo at the WGA screening room). All that matters is the script, the action and The Craig, who was so seemingly instrumental in reviving this moribund series that he actually generated some enthusiastic Best Actor buzz (pie in the sky though those notions may have been).

I love Craig, but I’d give an equal amount of credit to writers Neil Purvis, Robert Wade and, much as it pains me to say it, Paul Haggis, who retained the harsh, misogynistic integrity of Ian Fleming’s Casino Royale while updating the story in necessary and… somewhat inadvisable ways (repeat viewings have not been kind to the Texas Hold ‘Em scenes). I’d also be remiss if I didn’t point out that the two best Bond films of the last thirteen years were directed by Martin Campbell, who, along with ace 2nd Unit hand Alexander Witt and veteran stunt coordinator Gary Powell, deftly integrated some modern flourishes (i.e. parkour) which might’ve stood out in lesser hands.

So can a journeyman stylist like Marc Forster step in without fucking up the carefully rejiggered Bond aesthetic? I don’t see why not. He’s good with CG, has a competent understanding of action (the opening to the otherwise execrable Stay is pretty fantastic – though, again, it’s very Fincher-esque, which is troubling for a film that was developed for a year by Fincher), and is excellent with actors (don’t forget that Forster is the guy who essentially got Halle Berry an Oscar). He’ll do just fine.

But now that we know who’s directing, how ’bout couging up the title of the next movie!