The first hour or so of Tomorrow Never Dies, the new Bond, is laced with the usual satisfying sexual innuendo and insolent humor. Pierce Brosnan, of course, will never possess Sean Connery's aura of menace -- Brosnan is Bond lite ("Bond . . . Jim Bond") -- but Jonathan Pryce is self-amused and amusing as a Rupert Murdoch-like media entrepreneur who foments a war between Britain and China. There is a fine BMW 750IL that can be driven by remote control (i.e., from the backseat), but much of the action -- explosions, more explosions, men firing at one another with machine guns -- is just as boring as the action in ten other big movies of the past year. You won't miss a thing should you leave well before the end. If more can't be found in Bond than this, I wouldn't object, in principle, to that tuxedo's being hung up in the closet for good.