Driver's Seat
In the land of bourne again
By BOB DRIVER, columnist
| Article published on Wednesday, Aug. 15, 2007 |
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At least three good reasons exist for us to see “The Bourne Ultimatum,” the new Matt Damon movie currently raking in millions in ticket sales each week.
One reason is the excitement and tension the film generates; a second is the generally excellent acting we’ll see; a third is the memorably photographed whirlwind trip the viewer gets to London, Paris, Moscow, Madrid, Tangier and New York, the cities that Jason Bourne (Damon) visits in his search for the villains who turned him into an amnesiac-assassin for the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency.
The movie is also a vacation from reality. It is splendidly preposterous in what it asks of the audience. While every work of fiction demands that we suspend our tendency toward disbelief, “The Bourne Ultimatum” requires that we totally abandon any notion of what could, or could not, happen in the real world.
Examples: In the “Bourne” world, it’s possible for the CIA to punch up (in only a few seconds) a photo and detailed life history of anyone on earth, then quickly find his (or her) whereabouts, put cameras on him, track his every move, and then order unquestioning CIA hirelings (known as assets) to kill him in cold blood. It’s possible for Damon to engage in a savage judo-choreographed slugfest with a Moroccan hitman and then emerge with no more than skinned knuckles and a few facial scratches. In this supercharged, hyperventilating movie a high-ranking CIA bad guy (the menacing David Straitharn) absurdly orders a 12-block area of midtown Manhattan to be blocked off and searched, and he’s not even laughed at by his own operatives. “The Bourne Ultimatum” is 111 minutes of mostly fantasy-baloney, but it’s such fun, nobody cares.
The film lists three screenwriters, but only one part-timer is really needed, to pony up the few minutes of dialogue that’s interspersed between the shootouts and the hot pursuits that comprise most of the movie. To make sure that no viewer’s heart rate drops below 150 beats per minute, the sound track sings, crackles and thumps at a formidable pace.
This movie is likeable (and laughable) for other moon-sized holes in its logic. Why, for example, would the CIA’s Manhattan high-rise office windows be clear glass, allowing enemy observers for miles around to see who’s on duty? And how, with half of the world’s police forces searching for him, could Bourne easily (it appears) move undetected and undisguised through airport checkpoints? The answer, of course, is
simple: this is make-believe, baby. Anything goes.
The film’s most chilling moment comes when the amoral CIA thug Straithairn orders his subordinates to gun down anyone – innocent or guilty – who impedes the search for Bourne. His idealistic colleague, Joan Allen, protests. She asks, “Once you start killing everyone, when does it stop?”
With fascist-bureaucratic calm, Straithairn replies, “When we win.”
Dick Cheney couldn’t have said it better.
Send Bob Driver an e-mail at tralee71@comcast.net.
Send Bob Driver an e-mail at tralee71@comcast.net.
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Article published on Wednesday, Aug. 15, 2007
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