EVER since Errol Flynn first pulled on the emerald forty denier, the heart of any action movie has been the duel scene. And in that respect, as so many others, Die Another Day does not disappoint.

As well as a series of mano-a-mano combat scenes involving armoured hovercraft and assorted other boys’ toys, there is also a wonderfully old-fashioned, straight — all right, campily traditional — fencing match between Bond and his evil alter ego, Gustav Graves. Not to mention a sword fight to the death between two Bond girls in a flaming jumbo hurtling to its doom over a Korean Peninsula itself tipping towards Armageddon.

For sequences like that, I can accept any number of shots which linger just a little too long on Bond’s favoured brand of champagne. Anyone inclined to object to this twentieth Bond movie on the basis that the whole exercise has become too commercialised deserves to spend the rest of his days in the North Korean prison to which Bond is consigned at the beginning of the film. If priggish displays of anti-capitalist virtue are your thing, then Pyongyang is your natural home. The rest of us can then be allowed to glory in this superbly executed celebration of a great British tradition which is, in turn, pantomime, circus and firework display.

All the elements which make the Bond genre, sorry brand, wonderfully escapist entertainment are richly on display in Die Another Day. There is a whole pick’n’mix display of eye candy, from the meltingly sweet Halle Berry to the tart citrus sorbet of Rosamund Pike and the old Black Magic box charm of Pierce Brosnan’s Bond. It’s also worth noting a string of strong supporting performances, notably from Michael Madsen and Colin Salmon, both of whom lend the production a stamp of extra authority.

As one would expect, and have a right to demand, there are skilfully handled action scenes, notably a magnificent opening surf sequence and the joyously pyrotechnic trashing of a North Korean Army base. When it comes to menace, Toby Stephens is a deliciously accomplished villain. Sophisticates may blanche at one or two of the more obviously camp puns and one-liners that punctuate the script. But the rest of us, who have rejoiced in this strain of British humour from our first Carry On through the previous 19 Bonds, will find ourselves in double-entendre heaven.

You may still, like agent Miranda Frost in the film, find Bond’s method of seduction chauvinist and predictable. But my advice is, don’t fight it my dear, there’s a reason why so many have found it enjoyable to go along for the ride. Just sit back and think of England.

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