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>From http://www.sierratimes.com/02/06/21/rockyd.htm
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Politically Incorrect Movie Reviews
The Bourne Identity
by RadioFree Rocky D
Published 06. 21. 02 at 0:19 Sierra Time
Cast:
Matt Damon (Jason Bourne) – badass baby-
faced baddie-bopper.
Franka Potente (Marie) – mixed-up maiden mad for man-boy.
Chris Cooper (Conklin) – caustic Caucasian causing calamities.
Brian Cox (Abbott) – Dick Cheney doppelganger.
Adewale Akinnouye-Agabaje (Wombasi) – anarchist African antagonist.
Julia Stiles (Nicolette) – sexy spy secretary.
Clive Owen (Professor) – the spy who stayed out in the cold.
Faced with a choice of seeing Windtalkers (the noble Injun saves Pale Face’s
useless hide, even though he does NOT deserve it); Scooby Doo (updated to
indoctrinate your kids into the world of accepted lesbianism and recreational drugs)
and The Bourne Identity; I chose the latter, because everyone likes a good spy flick
… that is unless the main character is an amnesiac who cannot figure out who he is.
Let’s see … you have more fake passports than Osama bin Laden, secret laser
gizmos implanted in you, automatically open up a can-o-whoop on anyone who
comes near and you’re being followed by black-suited assassins. Hmm … ya don’t
suppose maybe you’re a spy or something, do you Einstein? DUH! He’s The
Talented Mr. Ripley who has no idea how he got so talented. Double DUH!
Therein lies the problem with The Bourne Identity. I reckon amnesia is quite
disconcerting on a personal level and I don’t mind suspending belief on a common
sense scale (that’s half the fun of the movies), but I gotta believe that a guy who
remembers deadly hand-to-hand combat maneuvers, can speak several languages,
has a lock box full of foreign currency and wakes up with bullet holes in his back
would remember being a spy.
This guy is the Hillary Clinton of the espionage set: “I don’t recall … hmm …
I
dunno … I can’t say for sure …but don’t forget to buy my memoirs”.
The story starts out as Damon is plucked out of the Mediterranean Sea by a
French fishing trawler named Aventure, which is French for “adventure.” The boat
should’ve been named Nous Refusé Savon (we refuse soap), by the looks of the
crew. It is here that we find out that our hero has no memory, yet he can do all sorts
of really cool stuff. This is in addition to the laser gizmo sliced out of his skin.
Perhaps because the French tend to accept anyone who looks in need of a bath and
a shave, the sailors never attempt to radio shore.
Caucasian fishermen are stupid and evil because they trap innocent happy
dolphins in their tuna nets. Non-Caucasian fishermen only use dolphin safe nets.
Non- Caucasians are at one with The Sea. White men pollute and ruin the oceans. I
know this, because Hollyweird tells me so.
On land, Damon heads to the first American flag he sees (I thought he had
amnesia?) and ends up in line at some bumbling bureaucratic office where
everyone has trouble with their visas. What? Foreign countries give visitors flack
about their visas? Well, not here in the good ol’ U.S. of A., by cracky. Y’all just
wander in over our borderlines (we won’t look). Just come on in. We’ll give you a
visa; hell we’ll even approve your student loan after you’ve already flown a jetliner
into a building. Flack over visas? Pish-tosh, not us; that would be intolerant of
multicultural diversity. Wouldn’t want to rile the ACLU with profiling, now would we?
After opening up a can of RoboDamon 2002 whoop ass and scaling a building
ala Spiderman, Damon meets up with The Girl. They go on what can only be
described as the world’s smallest car chase, with Damon outrunning multiple cop
cruisers and two motorcycles in a Cooper Mini. For those of you who don’t know
what a Cooper Mini is, think golf cart with a hard top. For those of you who think that
you can escape anything in a Cooper Mini, think this – not!
“I don’t like her. She’s not on the radar,” says one of the creepy spies.
That’s
Big Brother for you – not happy when they cannot monitor you 24-7. And naturally,
with the world full of Middle Eastern terrorists, we need to be monitoring European
Caucasians. After all, we all know the rise of the Fourth Reich is right around the
corner and that there are Nazi’s behind every bush (see Sum Of All Fears review).
By now, Damon has figured out that he’s some kind of bad guy, and that even
badder guys are trying to make Swiss cheese out of him. The even badder guys are
the CIA, of course. And who are the baddest of bad guys in the CIA? Why, Evil
Caucasian Capitalists! One of the guys even looks like Dick Cheney. This is
Hollyweird’s way of telling us that he is the really bad guy. After all, George & Dick
stole the White House from that nice man who kisses his wife all the time.
Bad George & Dick! Bad bad bad!
The other bad Whitey is terrific character actor Chris Cooper (the mean ex-Marine
in American Beauty) – he of the perpetual sweaty face and menacing scowl. Notice
that in all the CIA scenes, there isn’t a single brother or a muchacho in the house.
Everyone in the CIA is an evil Whitey.
Notice to Hollyweird: Maybe you just don’t know this, or perhaps you’re just pushing
PC again, but most of the operatives working for the CIA are not American born.
They are, in fact, foreigners; many from those third world countries you hold as
sacred cows. And how do we get them to snitch on their own countrymen? We pay
them in capitalist dollars, no less. That’s right, Hollyweird; those socialists from
backwards third-world countries where they pee in their own drinking water turn into
Western-style capitalists real fast when shown a bundle of Ben Franklins.
This brings us to the lone sacred minority factor. Hollyweird pushes the PC
poppycock big time with the “Wombosi” character. Wombosi is an agitated leader of
some unnamed African country and he looks suspiciously like Malcolm X. The Evil
Whiteys show videos of him ranting and raving about America’s injustices
(Hollyweird axiom #5: America IS the bad guy), and then bumps him off with a
sniper shot. Later, in a film flashback, we see that Wombosi was really a nice guy
who plays with children. Obviously Whitey had to shoot him to keep him from
holding power.
Evil Whitey still oppresses the black man to this day. Whitey will not allow blacks
nor Hispanics to hold power. Colin Powell is not really black. Condoleeza Rice is not
really Hispanic. If they were, they would not work with Whitey’s like George & Dick. I
know this, because Hollyweird tells me so.
Hollyweird should take note that most (if not all) assassinated African leaders are
killed by their own people, not some mythical worldwide Aryan cabal. That,
however, never stopped the pop-culture leftist media geeks from spreading
disinformation and outright prevarications about Caucasians killing non- Caucasian
world leaders. It just isn’t happening.
For further head-scratching perplexity; check out the webpage for the African
Unification Front. They actually list Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr. as African
leaders. Last I checked those two were Americans. And not a single word about
Malcolm X being killed by his own “brothers” because he decided not to blame all
his problems on Whitey anymore.
As with all spy-guy thrillers, The Bourne Identity has its share of implausibilities.
Such as, why wander around trying to find out who you are; just grab a computer
geek and start hacking – you’ll find out in no time. If you don’t want the Evil
Whitey’s tracking your car, just take the license plate off, or steal another one –
better yet, buy one with all the cash you’ve been carrying around. Why not simply
wear disguises? After disposing of a dozen baddies, why leap from the stairway to
avoid one more? Damon does a made-for- the-camera getaway by tossing a dead
body over a railing and then riding it down to cushion his fall (don’t try this at
home).
Julia Stiles is completely wasted in this film as an agent-babe who does nothing but
sit behind a desk with a MacDonald’s headset on. And who puts a 21-year-old
bimbo in charge of a covert operation, anyway?
The Bourne Identity is confusing, yet entertaining in an MTV video kind of way.
There’s lots of shrapnel-flyin’-every-which- way action and the story moves along
very quickly – too quickly at times. You leave the theatre thinking that you’ve only
seen half the story. Perhaps the rest of the story is in Ludlum’s novel. And the
tacked on ending is nothing short of insulting (and we all live happily ever after –
let’s boink).
Plus, it’s sort of hard to root for Damon, because there is never really a true Us vs.
Them dividing line; I mean are we supposed to root for him to defeat the United
States? Not to mention he dispatches the bad guys way to easily for a guy who
looks like a Richie Cunningham version of a Shaft wannabe. He’s just too cutie-pie
to be a spy-guy.
The Bourne Identity has 3 of the 5 Bachelor B’s. Blood (just a little here and there),
Bashes (mo’ smashin’ than two-dollar demolition derby) and Bombs (enough
propane poppin’ to piss off Hank Hill). No Beasts and no Breasts (what would James
Bond say about that?).
What is very cool is some great wintry scenes of France and Prague. Other than
that, I can’t seem to remember what it was that I liked about his film – it’s like
amnesia ... what was I saying again … ?
I give The Bourne Identity 3 Capitalist Dollar Signs. $$$
© 2002 SierraTimes.com (unless otherwise noted)
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