WITH EVERY NEW BOND COMES a chorus of disapproval. Consumers are fickle—they crave something new, but not that kind of new. They want to be challenged but comforted at the same time. They desire fresh takes, but only in a form that’s familiar to them.

That’s to say, audiences will accept something different as long as it feels the same.

No one wanted Gabe Parker to play Bond. The cards were stacked against him from the moment he was announced—especially when it was believed he was chosen over his Tommy Jacks co-star, Oliver Matthias.

At first it was an insult due to the fact that Matthias is British and Parker is decidedly not. Future audiences had already begun cringing at the thought of Parker, whose image was one of sweet, bro-y boyishness, acting suave while attempting to do a British accent.

Then when his audition tape was leaked and it was clear that the accent wasn’t going to be a problem—nor the boyishness, which he folded into his Bond-ness in a particularly charming, unique manner—critics had to find another reason why Parker was ill-suited for the role.

That reason came in the form of the unsubtle homophobic backlash at the reminder that Parker had dared to play a gay man dying of AIDS in his college production of Angels in America.

How, Middle America cried, how could Bond be played by someone who had kissed another man onstage?

The answer, we now know, is very, very well.

Parker’s Bond is a revelation.

And Chani Horowitz warned us that it would be. If you were one of the millions who read her profile of the star, you’ll know that she did everything possible to prime the pump, as it were.

It’s clear that the producers knew the film had only a few moments to convince the audience that they’d cast the right man and they use those minutes perfectly. Parker’s entrance is reminiscent of other great character introductions—where the acting, the editing, the directing, the music, all coalesce to make something truly unforgettable.

Think Hugh Grant’s entrance in Bridget Jones’s Diary. Rex Manning’s introduction in Empire Records. Darcy in any decent Pride and Prejudice adaptation.

That’s Gabe Parker as Bond.

Iconic.

We don’t even see him at first. It’s a sea of men in dark suits and dark hair at a gala, the occasional beautiful woman sprinkled throughout. All are powerful, confident men. Except one.

He’s shot from behind, but his body language doesn’t beg attention. It’s the opposite. Bond is hiding in a corner, shoulders bent, eyes—behind Clark Kent–esque glasses—focused forward, sipping on his signature drink.