In their reviews for the new James Bond prequel, “Casino Royale,” hack critics will no doubt write that Bond is back. But not this hack critic, no sir: Bond is, in fact, better than he’s ever been. Ian Fleming’s love letter to Cold War British hooliganism has finally been realized in a movie that offers up a 007 utterly faithful to the author’s intent.

As the new Bond, Daniel Craig is a thuggish gorilla trained to wear a tuxedo and chomp caviar so he can infiltrate high society with a Walther PPK tucked into his cummerbund. And not only does Mr. Craig’s Bond remorselessly murder for the Queen, but he does it with just the tiniest thimble of heart.

With “Casino Royale,” the “Bond” franchise continues its reign as the most successful film series of all time, and its formula is the envy of Hollywood — often imitated, but never minted. The recipe is simple and tasty — start with generous slabs of sex and violence, toss in car chases, sneering villains, gee-whiz gizmos of death, a dash of cool “Rule, Britannia,” and add plenty of gallows humor — though it can be left to rot like any confection. Sadly, for the better part of the last two decades, each of those ingredients has been recklessly heaped on the screen with all the generosity and nuance of a main course at Appleby’s. The filmmakers, in a manic effort to provide as much cheap flavor as possible, drowned the franchise in a tidal wave of nacho cheese and gravy, turning Bond into a big-screen version of disco fries.

As the previous Bond, Pierce Brosnan was a slam dunk originally. Anyone who remembers his dapper private investigator from the ’80s TV series “Remington Steele” knows it was obvious even then that he was the only actor who could save the Bond series from Timothy Dalton, whose 007 was about as charismatic as a limp chip. It was Mr. Brosnan, along with a budget big enough to allow him to free-fall from one plane to another, who revitalized the series. But his “Bond” films, from the excellent “GoldenEye,” to the ridiculous “Die Another Day,” eventually became victims of their own excesses, each becoming more over the top and ludicrous than the last. I will never forgive the producers for the crime that was the absurd invisible car in “Die Another Day.”

But I am a Bond fan, and invisible cars notwithstanding, all is forgiven in “Casino Royale.” Even non-Bond fans will enjoy rediscovering a character they thought they already knew. Stealing a little from the tense, realistic “Bourne Identity” and “Bourne Supremacy” films, “Casino Royale” is set very much in the modern world and carries the weight of reality. Like the two “Bourne” flicks, it isn’t a computer-generated confection, but a credible movie that takes the notion of impossible action with deadly seriousness. It’s simple to forget that the most essential element in an action movie is a hero who, while theoretically bulletproof, isn’t aware that he or she will survive every time. The new Bond bleeds, doubts, and struggles with each obstacle he faces, and it’s only after he’s dispatched the bad guy in spectacular fashion that he exhales.

The story of “Casino Royale” is deceptively simple; Bond is sent to stop the villain, Le Chiffre (Mads Mikkelsen), a banker and money launderer for the world’s terrorists, from winning a high-stakes game of poker. If Le Chiffre wins the millions, the bad guys win. It’s up to Bond to mess up the game, any way he can. Unlike in past “Bond” flicks, there is no plot for world domination, just an elegantly uncomplicated battle of wills. Though these scenes don’t arrive until the second half of the film, they are more tense and exciting than any of the video game-style shoot-em-ups that marked the Brosnan era. But don’t worry — before Bond takes to the table, we’re treated to a pair of action scenes that crescendo with mayhem and are some of the best in the entire series.

Mr. Mikkelsen’s Le Chiffre doesn’t cackle or twirl a moustache, even during the requisite death-trap scene, and the character is disturbingly sympathetic. Considering the average “Bond” villain has a robot hand or a pet alligator, Le Chiffre is a refreshing and deserving antagonist. The only character from the last four films to return is Bond’s superior, M, played again by Dame Judi Dench. She’s given a bit more to do in this flick, and her “M” treats Bond like the freshly shampooed, prize-fighting pit-bull he is.

Oh, and the famous Bond women? As a doomed conquest, Caterina Murino is as charming as she is gorgeous. But it’s Eva Green, as Bond’s cold-hearted baby sitter, Vesper Lynd, who steals every scene she’s in. She’s the Bond girl you want to take home to mom and then introduce to every single person you’ve ever met. And Bond himself would agree with that, had he any scruples at all.

Perhaps I’m overstating Mr. Craig’s performance. After all, my only research prior to seeing “Casino Royale” was watching “The Spy Who Loved Me” with Roger Moore, who played Bond as if he were “Project Runway”‘s Tim Gunn with a peashooter. Many have already compared Mr. Craig with Sean Connery, the connoisseur’s choice. But Mr. Connery was all 1960s machismo; if his Bond had been a banker, he would have occupied himself with three-martini lunches and a lustful chase of his dingbat secretary around the desk. Mr. Craig nails what makes Bond so entertaining as a character: He’s an amoral sociopath, paid handsomely to behave in ways that are illegal, unseemly, and against the laws of God. That fantastical freedom is liberating, and the core of the longevity of the series. Mr. Craig is so believable as this well-groomed beast that even the normally cheesy one-liners snap and crackle.

The only downside to “Casino Royale” is its length. At more than two hours, it drags near the end, especially during its overcooked climax. But that is easily forgiven, especially to Bond fans. Scattered throughout the film are various references and in-jokes to past Bond bits, including a riveting opening scene showing us how one becomes a “double 0,” a clever explanation of Bond’s love of Aston Martins, and the merest hint of a cabal of villains who’ve plagued our hero since the beginning. You’ll be whistling the brassy “Bond” theme song as you leave the theater and belly up to the bar. With that anthem swirling in your head, you’ll feel like a roughneck, even if you’re ordering a Seabreeze — stirred, not shaken.