The billion-breaking success of Skyfall was such that it’s little surprise that its leading players, from director Sam Mendes to Daniel Craig, were given pause. That 50th anniversary adventure – Bond’s 23rd – left them with a tough act to follow, after all. Fitting, then, that Spectre’s opening sequence takes place in front of a huge crowd; all eyes are on Mendes and his team of filmmakers to see what they can come up with this time. Bond’s antics in Mexico soon land him in hot water with M (Ralph Fiennes) back in London, but Bond soon shrugs off his suspension and concentrates instead on a breadcrumb trail of clues which lead to Europe and elsewhere. An assassin named Sciarra has connections to a series of attacks across the globe and a shadowy figure named Franz Oberhauser (Christoph Waltz), and Bond aims to make sense of this tangled web. Some of Skyfall’s faintly gothic atmosphere lingers in Spectre, particularly in its first hour. The mansion on the blasted heath from Skyfall is nowhere to be seen, of course, but there are nevertheless plenty of secret passages, fleeting, swooning romances and portents of doom. Screenwriting trio John Logan, Neal Purvis and Robert Wade’s script is terse and coy with its secrets, and Mendes allows Spectre to unfold at a tempo that is at first graceful and even ominous. Craig, a little older, a little leaner around the face, is as spectacular as he always was as Bond, and he fits right into the night-time world of clandestine meetings, pursuits and other violent encounters that Spectre has in store for him. Bond’s deadly tour takes in a glamorous Italian widow (Monica Bellucci), a resourceful doctor, Madeleine Swann (Lea Seydoux), and a brutal and borderline terrifying henchman played by a singularly mirthless Dave Bautista. The ride is consistently as handsome-looking and often as thrilling as that opening sequence, yet it’s hard to escape the feeling that Spectre’s meandering through its plot rather than flying, arrow straight, towards its climax. The tension so wonderfully conjured up in the first few minutes is often allowed to dissipate, particularly towards the middle of the story; Spectre‘s plot soon begins to feel somewhat overstuffed and – dare we say it – even predictable in places. That, at least, is the bad news. Christoph Waltz, meanwhile, appears to thoroughly enjoy playing Oberhauser. It’s an impish and sinister performance, and while his scenes in Spectre are sparing – more so than Javier Bardem’s villain in Skyfall – he looms large over the story. One particular sequence, which pushes violently at the boundaries of what’s acceptable in a 12A-rated movie, really sticks in the mind. Often sublimely, sometimes awkwardly, Spectre contrasts harshness and humour, violence and suspense, warmth and stark coldness. The ingredients that go into the Bond formula don’t hang together quite as successfully here as they did in Skyfall, and at 148 minutes, Spectre feels a touch too long. But Spectre more than satisfies as a big-screen spectacle, and among the superb performances from the top-notch cast, it’s Craig who again carries the day. His Bond is reliably flinty and dangerous, yet he also gives us the impression that every exploit the agent’s lived through is bearing down on his soul. Where some 007 films stand alone, seemingly detachable from their predecessors, Craig brings history and mortality to Bond; in Spectre‘s swerving, sinister plot, he remains its vital, beating heart. Spectre is out in UK cinemas on the 26th October.