Casino royale folterszene
Casino Royale ist das erste Buch der James-Bond-Reihe vom britischen Autor Ian Fleming. Dort versucht Le Chiffre, durch Folter aus Bond das Geldversteck herauszupressen. Nach stundenlanger Folter ist Bond am Ende und wird mit. Es ist eine Neuverfilmung des ersten James-Bond-Romans Casino Royale von Ian Fleming. Bond erholt sich mit Vesper in einem Badeort von der Folter. Nov. »Casino Royale«zeigt einen Agenten, der sich in die Schmutzgeschäfte In einer Folterszene wird er nackt auf einen Stuhl gefesselt. Er sieht. He closed his eyes, and his thoughts pursued his imagination through a series of carefully constructed scenes as if he were watching the tumbling chips of coloured glass in a kaleidoscope. The odds against the banker and the player are more jurassic world adventskalender less even. TripAdvisor gives a Certificate of Excellence to accommodations, attractions and restaurants that consistently earn great reviews from travelers. Jeckyll and hyde its face value and a hotel casino a praga of the odds, he will know whether to take another card or to stand on his own. This crowd of jabbering idiots. With his finger get lucky casino reviews the page, Bond turned to the sommelier: She looked at him and saw that his nostrils wereslightly flared. Hands small, well-tended, hirsute. Up to twenty-five million, the same as him. Next he examined barcelona vs olympiakos faint trace of basf casino ludwigshafen adresse powder on the inner rim of the porcelain handle of the clothes cup- board. These guys are fun with no pressure. Apparently they wanted to remember it. It was obvious that all this ritual and all the mechanical minutiae of the wheel, of the numbered slots and the cylinder, had been devised and perfected over the years so that neither the skill of the croupier nor any bias in the wheel could affect the fall of the ball. Not much of Hoagy Carmichael there, thought Bond, as he filled a flat, light, gun-metal box with fifty of the Morland cigarettes with the hotel casino a praga gold band. But it all came out the other way round.
folterszene casino royale - apologiseVesper is traumatised by the encounter, but Bond comforts her. Die wichtigsten Elemente im Film sind meines erachtens die Folter und Vesper. James Bond erhält den Auftrag, gegen Le Chiffre zu spielen und ihn so kaltzustellen. Sellers left the production before all his scenes were shot, which is why his character, Tremble, is so abruptly captured in the film. Da Vesper jedoch für Bond einen Hinweis auf Mr. Denn zum ersten Mal in seiner Agenten-Laufbahn wurde mit einer ambivalenten Persönlichkeit ausgestattet, die von seelischen Abgründen, Zweifeln und zunehmender Gefühllosigkeit geprägt ist. A section of the concrete wall was removed to fit the digger and reinforced with steel. Kinderbücher Tschitti Tschitti Bäng Bäng.
Her jet-black hair hung straight and simply to the final in- ward curl below the chin. Business must be good in the radio world! It marks when you sit down.
And, by the way, if you hear me scream tonight, I shall have sat on a cane chair. The fashionable part of the restaurant was beside the wide crescent of window built out like the broad stern of a ship over the hotel gardens, but Bond had chosen a table in one of the mirrored alcoves at the back of the great room.
These had survived from Edwardian days and they were secluded and gay in white and gilt, with the red silk-shaded table and wall lights of the late Empire.
He turned to his companion. He said to her abruptly: Bond gave her a look of inquiry. Apparently they wanted to remember it.
An idea struck him. He explained about the special Martini he had invented and his search for a name for it. Can I have it? And now have you decided what you would like to have for dinner?
Is it very shameless to be so certain and so expensive? While Mademoiselle is enjoying the strawberries, I will have an avocado pear with a little French dressing.
Do you ap- prove? With his finger on the page, Bond turned to the sommelier: It comes partly from being a bachelor, but mostly from a habit of taking a lot of trouble over details.
But it sounds rather schoolgirlish when one says it, 5 she added apologetically. The little carafe of Vodka had arrived in its bowl of crushed ice, and Bond filled their glasses.
He was longing to tell you himself. He was in a Citroen, and he had picked up two English hikers as protective colouring.
At the roadblock his French was so bad that they asked for his papers, and he brought out a gun and shot one of the motor-cycle patrol.
Then they took him down to Rouen and extracted the story — in the usual French fashion, I suppose. He said the bright colours would make it easier for them.
He told them that the blue case contained a very powerful smoke-bomb. The red case was the explosive. As one of them threw the red case the other was to press a switch on the blue case, and they would escape under cover of the smoke.
In fact, the smoke-bomb was a pure invention to make the Bulgars think they could get away. Both cases contained an identical high-explosive bomb.
There was no difference between the blue and the red cases. The idea was to destroy you and the bomb- throwers without a trace. Presumably there were other plans for dealing with the third man.
It would be better, they thought, to touch off the smoke- bomb first and, from inside the cloud of smoke, hurl the explosive bomb at you.
What you saw was the assistant bomb-thrower pressing down the lever on the phony smoke-bomb; and, of course, they both went up together.
When he saw what had hapr pened, he assumed they had bungled. But the police picked up some fragments of the unexploded red bomb, and he was confronted with them.
When he saw that they had been tricked and that his two friends were meant to be murdered with you, he started to talk.
The caviar was heaped on to their plates, and they ate for a time in silence. After a while Bond said: For them, it certainly was a case of being hoist with their own petard.
What section are you in? It seemed only to be a liaison job, so M. All they knew was that I was to work with a Double O.
I was en- chanted. Probably quite decent people. They just got caught up in the gale of the world like that Yugoslav that Tito bumped off.
How do you like the grated egg with your caviar? Suddenly he regretted the intimacy of their dinner and of their talk.
He felt that he had said too much and what was only a working relationship had become confused. She listened to him coldly, but with attentive obedi- ence.
She- felt thoroughly deflated by his harshness, while admitting to herself that she should have paid more heed to the warnings of Head of S.
Then at a hint 60 CASINO ROYALE that they were finding pleasure together, a hint that was only the first words of a conventional phrase, he had suddenly turned to ice and had brutally veered away as if warmth were poison to him.
She felt hurt and foolish. Then she gave a mental shrug and concentrated with all her attention on what he was saying. She would not make the same mistake again.
The odds against the banker and the player are more or less even. I have about the same. There will be ten players, I ex- pect, and we sit round the banker at a kidney-shaped table.
The banker plays two games, one against each of the tableaux to left and right of him. In that game, the banker should be able to win by playing off one tableau against the other and by first-class accountancy.
I shall be sitting as near dead opposite Le Chiffre as I can get. In front of him he has a shoe containing six packs of cards, well shuffled.
The cards are shuf- fled by the croupier and cut bygone of the players and put into the shoe in full view of the table. It would be useful, but almost impossible, to mark all the cards, and it would mean the connivance at least of the croupier.
Anyway, we shall be watching for that too. The banker announces an opening bank of five hundred thousand francs, or five hundred pounds as it is now.
Then Number 2 has the right to take it; and if he refuses then Number 3, and so on round the table. If no single player takes it all, the bet is offered to the table as a whole and everyone chips in, including sometimes the spectators round the table, until the five hundred thousand is made up.
It may take some time, but in the end one of us two is bound to break the other, irrespective of the other players at the table, although they can, of course, make him richer or poorer in the meantime.
Neither of them drank brandy or a liqueur. Finally, Bond felt it was time to explain the actual mechanics of the game. In this game I get two cards and the banker gets two; and, unless anyone wins outright, either or both of us can get one more card.
The object of the game is to hold two, or three cards which together count nine points, Or as nearly nine as possible. Court cards and tens count nothing; aces one each; any other card its face value.
It is only the last figure of your count that signifies. So nine plus seven equals six — not sixteen. Draws are played over again. Five is the turning point of the game.
According to the odds, the chance of bettering or worsening your hand if you hold a five are exactly even. If he has a natural, he turns them up and wins.
Otherwise he is faced with the same problems as I was. But he is helped in his decision to draw or not to draw a card by my actions.
If I have stood he must assume that I have a five, six, or seven: And this card was dealt to me face up. On its face value and a knowledge of the odds, he will know whether to take another card or to stand on his own.
He has a tiny help over his decision to draw or to stand. But there is always one problem card at this game: Shall one draw or stand on a five, and what will your opponent do with a five?
Some players always draw or always stand,. I follow my intuition. The prospect of at last getting to grips with Le Chiffre stimulated him and quickened his pulse.
He seemed to have completely forgotten the brief coolness between them, and Vesper was relieved and entered into his mood.
He paid the bill and gave a handsome tip to the som- melier. Vesper rose and led the way out of the restaurant and out on to the steps of the hotel.
The big Bentley was waiting and Bond drove Vesper over, parking as close to the entrance as he could. As they walked through the ornate anterooms, he hardly spoke.
She looked at him and saw that his nostrils were , slightly flared. In other respects he seemed completely at ease, acknowledging cheerfully the greetings of the Casino functionaries.
At the door to the salle privee they were not asked for their membership cards. Before they had penetrated very far into the main room, Felix Leiter detached himself from one of the roulette tables and greeted Bond as an old friend.
Then perhaps we could come and watch you when your game starts to warm up. Well, I shall leave you then. Now come with me and watch Number 17 obey my extrasensory perceptions.
He stood at the caisse and took his twenty-four million francs against the receipt which had been given him that afternoon.
He divided the notes into equal , packets and put half the sum into his right-hand coat pocket and the other half into the left. Then he strolled slowly across the room between the thronged tables until he came to the top of the room where the broad baccarat table waited behind the brass rail.
The chef de partie lifted the velvet-covered chain which allowed entrance through the brass rail. Bond moved inside the rail to which a huissier was holding out his chair.
He sat down with a nod to the players on his right and left. He took out his wide gun- metal cigarette case and his black lighter and placed them on the green baize at his right elbow.
The huissier wiped a thick glass ashtray with a cloth and put it beside them. Bond lit a cigarette and leant back in his chair. He glanced round the table.
He knew most of the players by sight, but, few of their names. At Number 7, on his right, there was a Monsieur Sixte, a wealthy Belgian with metal interests in the Congo.
At Number 9 there was Lord Danvers, a distinguished but weak-looking man whose francs were presumably provided by his rich American wife, a middle-aged woman with the predatory mouth of a barracuda, who sat at Number 3.
Bond reflected that they would probably play a pawky and nervous game and be amongst the early casualties.
He would play coldly and well and would be a stayer. Bond asked the huissier for a card and wrote on it, under a neat question mark, the remaining numbers, 2, 4, 5, 8, 10, and asked the huissier to give it to the chef de partie.
Soon it came back with the names filled in. With her sanguine temperament she would play gaily and with panache and might run into a vein of luck.
Du Pont, rich-looking, who might or might not have some of the real Du Pont money behind them. Bond guessed they would be stayers.
They both had a businesslike look about them and were talking together easily and cheerfully as if they felt very much at home at the big game.
Bond was quite happy to have them next to him— Mrs. Du 1 Pont sat at Number 5— and he felt prepared to share with them or with Monsieur Sixte on his right, if they found them- selves faced with too big a bank.
At Number 8 was the Maharajah of a small Indian state, probably with all his wartime sterling balances to play with.
But the Maharajah would probably stay late in the game and stand some heavy losses if they were gradual. Number 10 was a prosperous-looking young Italian, Signor Tomelli, who possibly had plenty of money from rack-rents in Milan and would probably play a dashing and foolish game.
He might lose his temper and make a scene. With the same economy of movement, he cut the thick slab of cards, which the croupier had placed on the table squarely between his blunt relaxed hands.
He gave it a short deliberate slap to settle the cards, the first of which showed its semicircular pale pink tongue through the slanting aluminum mouth of the shoe.
Then, with a thick white forefinger he pressed gently on the pink tongue and slipped out the first card six inches or a foot towards the Greek on his right hand.
Then he slipped out a card for himself, then another for the Greek, then one more for himself. He sat immobile, not touching his own cards. The two pink crabs scuttled out together and the Greek gathered the cards into his wide left hand and cautiously bent his head so that he could see, in the shadow made by his cupped hand, the value of the bottom of the two cards.
Then he slowly inserted the forefinger of his right hand and slipped the bottom card slightly sideways so that the value of the top card was also just perceptible.
His face was quite impassive. He flattened out his left hand on the table and then withdrew it, leaving the two pink cards face down before him, their secret unrevealed.
Then he lifted his head and looked Le Chiffre in the eye. From the decision to stand on his two cards and not to ask for another, it was clear that the Greek had a five, or a six, or a seven.
To be certain Of winning, the bank had to reveal an eight or a nine. If the banker failed to show either figure, he also had the right to take another card which might or might not improve his count.
With his right hand he picked up the two cards and turned them face up- wards on the table with a faint snap. They were a four and a five, an uhdef eatable natural nine.
Le Chiffre had chosen the second course. The croupier slipped some counters through the slot in the table which receives the cagnotte and announced quietly: Bond lit a cigarette and settled himself in his chair.
The long game was launched, and the sequence of these gestures and the reiteration of this subdued litany would continue until the end came and the players dispersed.
Then the enigmatic cards would be burnt or defaced, a shroud would be draped over the table, and the grass- green baize battlefield would soak up the blood of its victims and refresh itself.
He slowly removed one thick hand from the table and slipped it into the pocket of his dinner-jacket. The hand came out holding a small metal cylinder with a cap which Le Chiffre unscrewed.
He inserted the nozzle of the cylinder, with an obscene deliberation, twice into each black nostril in turn, and luxuriously inhaled the benzedrine vapour.
Unhurriedly he pocketed the inhaler; then his hand came quickly back, above the level of. But for the high-lights on the satin of the shawl-cut lapels, he might have been faced by the thick bust of a black-fleeced Minotaur rising out of a green grass field.
Bond slipped a packet of notes on to the table without counting them. The other players sensed a tension between the two gamblers, and there was a silence as Le Chiffre fingered the four cards out of the shoe.
There was a little gasp of envy from the table, and the players to the left of Bond exchanged rueful glances at their failure to accept the two-million-franc bet.
With the hint of a shrug, Le Chiffre slowly faced his own two cards and flicked them away with his finger- nail. They were two valueless knaves.
Bond slipped them into his right-hand pocket with the unused packet of notes. His face showed no emotion, but he was pleased with the success of his first coup and with the outcome of the silent clash of wills across the: The woman on his left, the American Mrs.
Du Pont, turned to him with a wry smile. Du Pont leant forward from the other side of his wife: They stood behind and to either side of the banker.
His whole long body was restless, and his hands shifted often on the brass rail. Bond guessed that he would kill without interest or concern for what he killed, and that he would prefer strangling.
He had something of Lennie in Of Mice and Men, but his inhumanity would not come from infantilism but from drugs. The other man looked like a Corsican shopkeeper.
He was short and very dark with a flat head covered with thickly greased hair. He seemed to be a cripple.
A chunky Malacca cane with a rubber tip hung on a rail beside him. He must have had permission to bring the cane into the Casino with him, reflected Bond, who knew that neither sticks nor any other objects were allowed in the rooms as a precaution against acts of violence.
He looked sleek and well fed. His mouth hung vacantly half open and revealed very bad teeth. He wore a heavy black moustache, and the backs of his hands on the rail were matted with black hair.
Bond guessed that hair covered most of his squat body. The game continued uneventfully, but with a slight bias against the bank.
Your luck can defeat the first and second tests, but when the third deal comes along it most often spells disaster. Again and again at this point you find yourself being bounced back to earth.
It was like that now. Neither the bank nor any of the players seemed to be able to get hot. Bond had no idea what profits Le Chiffre had made over the past two days.
In fact, Le Chiffre had lost heavily all that afternoon. At this moment he only had ten million left. Bond was cautiously pleased.
Le Chiffre showed no trace of emotion. He continued to play like an automaton, never speaking except when he gave in- structions in a low aside to the croupier at the opening of each new bank.
Outside the pool of silence round the high table, there was the constant hum of the other tables, chemin-de- - fer, roulette, and trente-et-quarante, interspersed with the clear calls of the croupiers and occasional bursts of laughter or gasps of excitement from different corners of the huge salle.
In the background there thudded always the hidden metronome of the Casino, ticking up its little treasure of one-per-cents with each spin of a wheel and each turn of a card — a pulsing fat-cat with a zero for a heart.
The Greek at Number 1 was still having a bad time. He had lost the first coup of half a million francs and the second.
He passed the third time, leaving a bank of two millions. Carmel Delane at Number 2 refused it. So did Lady Danvers at Number 3.
The Du Ponts looked at each other. Again he fixed Le Chiffre with his eye. Again he gave only a cursory look at his two cards. He held a marginal five.
The position was dangerous. Le Chiffre turned up a knave and a four. He gave the shoe another slap. He drew a three. And lost again, to a natural nine.
In two coups he had lost twelve million francs. Suddenly Bond felt the sweat on his palms. Like snow in sunshine his capital had melted.
With the covetous deliberation of the winning gambler, Le Chiffre was tapping a light tattoo on the table with his right hand. Bond looked across into the eyes of murky basalt.
They held an ironical question. There was no hint in his movements that this would be his last stake. His mouth felt suddenly as dry as flock wall-paper.
He looked up and saw Vesper and Felix Leiter standing where the gunman with the stick had stood. He did not know how long they had been standing there.
He heard a faint rattle on the rail behind him and turned his head. The battery of bad teeth under the black moustache gaped vacantly back at him.
The light from the broad satin-lined shades which had seemed so welcoming now seemed to take the colour out of his hand as he glanced at the cards.
Then he looked again. It was nearly as bad as it could have been — the king of hearts and an ace, the ace of spades. It squinted up at him like a black widow spider.
Le Chiffre faced his own two cards. He had a queen and a black five. He looked at Bond and pressed out another card with a wide forefinger. The table was ab- solutely silent.
He faced it and flicked it away. The croupier lifted it delicately with his spatula and slipped it over to Bond. It was a good card, the five of hearts, but to Bond it was a difficult fingerprint in dried blood.
He now had a count of six and Le Chiffre a count of five, but the banker having a five and giving a five, would and must draw another card and try and improve with a one, two, three, or four.
Drawing any other card he would be defeated. It was, unnecessarily, the best, a four, giving the bank a count of nine.
He had won, almost slowing up. Bond was beaten and cleaned out. He opened his wide black case and took out a cigarette.
He snapped open the tiny jaws of the Ronson and lit the cigarette and put the lighter back on the table. He took a deep lungful of smoke and expelled it between his teeth with a faint hiss.
Back to the hotel and bed, avoiding the commiserating eyes of Mathis and Leiter and Vesper: He looked round the table and up at the spectators. Few were looking at him.
Leiter had vanished, not wishing to look Bond in the eye after the knock-out, he supposed. Yet Vesper looked curiously unmoved, she gave him a smile of en- couragement.
But then, Bond reflected, she knew nothing of the game. Had no notion, probably, of the bitterness of his defeat. The huissier was coming towards Bond inside the rail.
He stopped beside him. Placed a squat envelope beside Bond on the table. It was as thick as a dictionary. Said something about the caisse.
He took the heavy anonymous envelope below the level of the table and slit it open with his thumbnail, noticing that the gum was still wet on the flap.
Unbelieving and yet knowing it was true, he felt the broad wads of notes. He slipped them into his pockets, retaining the half-sheet of notepaper which was pinned to the topmost of them.
He glanced at it in the shadow below the table. There was one line of writing in ink: With the compliments of the U.
He looked over towards Vesper. Felix Leiter was again standing beside her. He grinned slightly, and Bond smiled back and raised his hand from the table in a small gesture of benediction.
Then he set his mind to sweeping away all traces of the sense of complete defeat which had swamped him a few minutes before. This was a reprieve, but only a reprieve.
There could be no more miracles. This time he had to win— if Le Chif fre had not already made his fifty million — if he was going to go on! Perhaps, thought Bond, Le Chiffre needed just one more coup, even a minor one of a few million francs, to achieve his object.
Then he would have made his fifty million francs and would leave the table. By tomorrow his deficits would be covered and his position secure.
Then the only hope, thought Bond, was to stamp on him how. Not to share the bank with the table, or to take some minor r part of it, but to go the whole hog.
This would really jolt Le Chiffre. He would hate to see more than ten or fifteen million of the stake covered, and he could not possibly expect anyone to banco the entire thirty-two millions.
He might not know that Bond had been cleaned out, but he must imagine that Bond had by now only small reserves. He could not know of the contents of the envelope.
If he did, he would probably withdraw the bank and start all over again on the wearisome journey up from the five hundred franc opening bet.
The analysis was right. Le Chiffre needed another eight million. At last he nodded. A silence built itself up round the table. Besides, this was won- derful publicity.
The stake had only once been reached in the history of baccarat — at Deauville in It was then that Bond leant slightly forward.
The word ran through the Casino. For most of them it was more than they had earned all their lives. It was their savings and the savings of their families.
It was, literally, a small fortune. One of the Casino directors consulted with the chef de partie. The chef de partie turned apologetically to Bond.
It was an indication that Bond really must show he had the money to coyer the bet. They knew, of course, that he was a very wealthy man, but after all, thirty-two millions!
And it sometimes happened that desperate people would bet without a sou in the world and cheer- fully go to prison if they lost. It was when Bond shovelled the great wad of notes out on to the table and the croupier busied himself with the task of counting the pinned sheaves of ten thousand franc notes, the largest denomination issued in France, that he caught a swift exchange of glances between Le Chiffre and the gunman standing directly behind Bond.
Immediately he felt something hard press into the base of his spine, right into the cleft between his two buttocks on the padded chair. At the same time a thick voice speaking southern French said softly, urgently, just behind his right ear: It is absolutely silent.
You will appear to have fainted. I shall be gone. Withdraw your bet before I count ten. If you call for help I shall fire.
These people had shown they would unhesitatingly go the limit. The thick walking stick was explained. Bond knew the type of gun.
The barrel a series of soft rubber baffles which absorbed the detonation, but allowed the passage of the bullet.
They had been invented and used in the v. Bond had tested them himself. Bond turned his head. There was the man, leaning forward close behind him, smiling broadly under his black moustache as if he were wishing Bond luck, com- pletely secure in the noise and the crowd.
The discoloured teeth came together. His eyes glittered back at Bond. His mouth was open, and he was breathing fast. They were smiling and talking to each other.
Where were those famous men of his? This crowd of jabbering idiots. The chef de partie, the croupier, the huissier? The chef de partie bowed smilingly towards Bond.
It was a chance. He carefully moved his hands to the edge of the table, gripped it, edged his buttocks right back, feeling the sharp gun-sight grind into his coccyx.
The back of the chair splintered with the sharp crack. There were cries of dismay. The spectators cringed away and then, reassured, clustered back.
Hands helped him to his feet and brushed him down. The huissier bustled up with the chef de partie. At all costs a scandal must be avoided.
Bond held on to the brass rail. He looked confused and embarrassed. He brushed his hand across his forehead. Naturally, with this tremendous game.
Would Monsieur prefer to with- draw, to lie down, to go home? Should a doctor be fetched? Bond shook his head. He was perfectly all right now.
His excuses to the table. To the banker also. A new chair was brought and he sat down. He looked across at Le Chiffre.
Philadelphia Inquirer - Carrie Rickey. Like Connery - but in different proportions - Craig is earthy and erotic, holding himself like a smoking gun.
The result is a satisfyingly gritty tale, more grounded in reality than many entries in the franchise. I was very skeptical about him playing the new bond, but boy was I ever mistaken!
He flat out dominates every other actor back to Sean Connery. This film has given me a new hope for the future of Bond!!
OLuck Jan 12, Really fantastic, one of the best spy movies ever. It is not getting the respect it deserves becasue fo the franchise.
The direction, scripting, acting is superior, really trancends the genre. Easily one of the best, is not the best, Bond films since the days of Connery.
The dark and gritty tones are a welcome change of pace, and the story still manages to infuse humor in the right places, and in my opinion also in the right quantity.
These guys are fun with no pressure. They help you win by giving you good advice when playing cards. I feel one can play longer here with less money.
They have updated slots and its very clean. Although a smaller casino it had most of the staple slots I like to play and a very well priced food court.
After spending a couple days dropping major coin at a major casino on the strip, My wife and I felt like the old Vegas was gone for good. Like a sheep to be sheered, we felt like we were being fleeced.
No BJ tables less We visited the casino as we hopped between main hotels on the strip on the way to Venice. We ended up staying for about 2 hours and found it to be very "generous!
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