By Lynne Van Luven

I don’t get it. I never have got it. I never WILL get it.

Why all this brouhaha about Skyfall, the new James Bond movie? What’s the big deal?

Daniel Craig’s woodenly rugged face. Screeching motorcycle chases. Big Booms as things explode. Car tricks. More big Booms. Lots of gadgets, many of which cause booms. Also Kapows and Kabooms, just for variety. Sexy women. Big Bosoms too. That encapsulates the Screech-Boom plot of the new James Bond movie. Which echoes the plots of the previous 22 James Bond movies. And yet: everywhere, endless attention over so much empty action.

The fuss boggles my mind: I have perfectly sane colleagues who collect Bondabilia. And feminist friends who make special dates to see each new Bond film; they brag about having seen every one — and wait with bated breath for the next one. And I have a really smart co-worker who argues that Sean Connery was the BEST bond, even better than Roger Moore, who himself now 85, says Craig makes a “convincing killer” as the newest Bond.

Why, I ask? Why, why why? And don’t tell me that Kate and Will have made a date to see Skyfall. Means nothing: that pair will go anywhere.

Yes, okay, I guess: Escape. Entertainment. The frisson of being part of something described as “iconic,” a 50-year old “franchise.” Cinematic groupiedom.

But really: the current Bond cost $150 million to make – not including marketing and distribution. The cast went through 200,000 rounds of ammunition during weapons training for the movie. The storyline required 750 extras, 100 background vehicles and a 300-person film crew –just for the chase sequence through Whitehall in London.

Nope, not even a blond Javier Bardem and the redoubtable Dame Judy Dench will get me into the theatres for Skyfall.

I remain: neither shaken nor stirred.