Mean, touchy-feely Bond is back on track

The man with the golden run: Daniel Craig as James Bond in 'Skyfall' (Skyfall)

Celebrating 50 years in business, 007 is looking 00K in Skyfall, still lean and mean, quick on his feet, contemporary but not afraid to look back. It gets off to a flyer with a long and elaborate chase, then keeps the pedal floored in a series of dynamic setpieces that show off director Sam Mendes's technical expertise and his understanding of what's required in a Bond picture. It looks spiffy, largely thanks to Roger Deakins's crisp photography, and gets the franchise back on track after the cheerless Quantum of Solace threatened to derail the show. It also has a top villain, one of the great Bond baddies, in Javier Bardem.

Yet something about it prevents me from joining the loud "wahoos" already raised in acclaim. Enjoyable as it is, there are creaks and judders in the machinery that suggest the film-makers' nervousness about Bond and about his long-term appeal. Most notable is an uncertainty as to how far they should humanise a spy who has operated, necessarily, "in the shadows". Take away those shadows and, like a vampire at dawn, his substance may shrivel in the light. Skyfall belatedly clues us into a backstory explaining 007's emotional reticence and his professional psychopathology, but I think that is to mistake what the audience seeks in Bond – they don't want to know about his mother and father, they want to know if he can still deliver a great one-liner while dodging an oncoming train.

Did I say vampire? Our hero, if not undead, does appear to have given up the ghost at the end of that opening chase. Who could have survived a sniper's bullet and a 1,000ft plunge? Bond, that's who. When he reappears in London, even M (Judi Dench) is mildly surprised. If he looks shaken and stirred, M's case is a lot worse. Not only is MI6 about to retire her, she's also under attack from a cyber-terrorist with a grudge: "Think on your sins," is his signature warning. At 43, Craig appears in excellent fettle, his silhouette slim and his movement graceful. He looks terrific in a tux. The one thing missing from his armoury, alas, is a sense of humour. The scriptwriters have supplied some good gags here, but Craig is too clenched an actor to make the most of them. I liked the assignation with new quartermaster, Q (Ben Whishaw, looks like a nerd on University Challenge) – and the austere back-to-basics package he presents to Bond: a gun, and a radio. "Not exactly Christmas, is it?" says James. "What were you expecting – an exploding pen?" (yes, we were).

Mendes keeps the thing rocketing along, switching from the rooftops of Istanbul to the gambling dens of Shanghai, where 007 contacts a mysterious Asian beauty (Bérénice Marlohe). The sex? Blink and you miss it; this Bond has his mind on The Job, not the job. In any case, the real erotic encounter involves not a woman but a man. Behold Raoul Silva (Bardem), an ex-MI6 agent sold down the river by M ("Mommy was very bad"), returning to seek revenge after surviving his own cyanide capsule.

It's all set up for a big finale, with Bond playing Galahad to his old boss and reuniting with an aged retainer on a moor in Scotland. Unfortunately, it turns out to be the least successful part of the movie, because it tries to situate Bond as a man in touch with his feelings. I don't want Bond with a back story, I want him to be a man alone, dark, self-possessed, egregious – literally, "outside the flock". His name's Bond – James Bond – and that's all the information we need from him.