NOT another Bond film? Yesh, I'm afraid sho.

And one that should have been more aptly named "Bond Never Dies", considering the number of times he bounces back from the brink. Britain's sartorial superman is straying further and further from creator Ian Fleming's more credible hero into the realms of self-parody.

"Tomorrow Never Dies", the eighteenth Bond film to date, is a melange of every other one you have seen - even the title leaves you with a sense of deja vu. Expect the obligatory high-octane, high-tech action, a heap of double entendres, improbable sub aquatic action scenes and, of course, villains who at the point of finishing off our superhero fall into that old trap of wanting to draw out their rival's death. In short: the same old stuff.

You might be thinking, so what do you expect? It wouldn't be Bond without the usual combination of big budget whizz bangs, babes and martinis. In which case this movie is for you.

Dame Judi Dench, always good value, makes a welcome return as M, 007's sharp-as-a-knife boss. Even an aged Q is wheeled out for the customary display of hi-tech toys and for the schoolmasterly dressing-down when 007 starts fooling around with the automotive star of the flick, a remote controlled BMW - just one of many glaring product placements.

As for Brosnan himself, he makes a smooth, good-looking action man. However, except for during a short romantic interlude with Hatcher, he never really seems to be vulnerable, either physically or emotionally. Sean Connery's Bond was a far more mortal agent, which is why he is still the best 007 by far.