I don’t have nearly as many problems with Matt Damon as I do with his former cohort, Mr. Affleck (grrrr). He was, after all, pretty wonderful in the tailored Good Will Hunting and decent in stuff like The Rainmaker, before being absolutely unforgivable in The Talented Mr. Ripley (although the astonishingly unfaithful script hardly did him any favours).
As an action hero, however – even in a movie that shows up the recent Bond movies for the dull atrocities they were – it’s hard to take him entirely seriously. I mean, you see those hamster cheeks and you just want to pinch them and coo like he were a particularly fetching rodent.
Though he’s bulked up and then some, that problem continues from The Bourne Identity into its periodically thrilling sequel. You can absolutely accept that Mr. Damon is a former killing machine, thanks to his rather immutable features, but tortured angst is quite beyond his range, and that might have been a nice character embellishment. The Bourne Supremacy, as one might imagine, takes up where we left off, with amnesiac assassin Bourne (Damon) now living an idyllic student-friendly existence in the crustier parts of India with Franka Potente. But the super-secret agency which trained him still seem determined to dispense with his services permanently, and between them and some dodgy Russian nouveau-capitalist Abramovich types, Bourne finds himself framed for robbery and murder(s).
Of course, this being a Boy’s Own affair, wifey is duly dispatched early on, leaving our hero to rampage through the rest of the film with vengeful intent. Following hot on his trail is ball-breaking CIA operative Joan Allen, but will she realise he’s innocent? Will she even get a chance with all the relentless running about which ensues?
It’s all very exciting, if entirely lacking in substance, but what would I know? Every boy I’ve spoken to thinks this an orgasmic masterpiece, what with the shiny things, car-chases and moody unattached protagonist. As for myself, I thought it perfectly decent, and quite enjoyed it before scuttling home to my Jane Austen library.