The Bourne Identity

Doug Liman

BY Carol HarrisonPublished Dec 1, 2002

The name is Bourne. Jason Bourne. And he is the new cool Bond. The suspension of disbelief is integral for the enjoyment of spy flicks — as if a dirty old man like Roger Moore's Bond could bed women young enough to be his granddaughter. Of course, we all know Sean Connery was the real Bond despite rumours to the contrary, but I digress. Matt Damon has it over both of them for this new generation of spooks.

An adaptation of the late-Robert Ludlum novel, "The Bourne Identity," opens when a bullet riddled man is recovered from the ocean by fishermen. He has no memory, but has instincts as sharp has a tack. In this era of neato gadgets available to anyone with a credit card, lighting speed and a keen eye come only with elite training. These instincts aid him in recovering some of his past as does the help of Maria (Franka Potente). And the past is out to get him.

While Damon can pull this role off well, he is very pretty; indeed, he didn't shave at all during the whole film. I know some men who would pay dearly for this ability. Nevertheless, this glamour is part of the disbelief and you simply have to get on with the fun. Potente ("Run Lola Run") is not glamorous at all, but normal and believable and therefore beautiful. Clive Owen ("The Croupier"), the newest and coolest guy on the cinematic block, makes an appearance as an icy sniper confirming his contention for the next spy role.

Fans of the genre will enjoy the cliches — beautiful locales, tense escapes, the incredible handling of the Mini on wet cobblestone — it's all entertainingly there. And, I've come to the conclusion that The Bourne Identity is definitely a chick flick — handsome male lead, realistic female love interest, care chases and fights. Absolutely no question the best date movie so far this summer.

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