The Forlorn Ultimatum

"I'm so lonely."

Look, here's the thing (hello, by the way) : I desperately want Paul Greengrass to stop making films.

As some way to intellectually legitimise this statement, I include below part of a review Roger Ebert wrote about Aliens:

"The movie is so intense that it creates a problem for me as a reviewer: Do I praise its craftsmanship, or do I tell you it left me feeling wrung out and unhappy? It has been a week since I saw it, so the emotions have faded a little, leaving with me an appreciation of the movie's technical qualities. But when I walked out of the theater, there were knots in my stomach from the film's roller-coaster ride of violence. This is not the kind of movie where it means anything to say you 'enjoyed' it."

And, then, later:

"I don't know how else to describe this: The movie made me feel bad. It filled me with feelings of unease and disquiet and anxiety. I walked outside and I didn't want to talk to anyone. I was drained. I'm not sure 'Aliens' is what we mean by entertainment."

Now, I like Roger Ebert. I find this reviews refreshingly honest and I do not, quite frankly, give a damn about his opinions on computer games.

I've heard people say, "Oh I'm never trusting another one of his reviews," just because he's a slightly old guy who doesn't see the artistic value of video games. Hey, that perfectly describes my Dad and I still respect my Dad's opinions on, say, rugby, whatever he may think of games. This summer, in my leave of absence, my Dad did enjoy the Wii, though. So, perhaps, one way to Ebert's heart is getting him to sit down with Nintendo's latest.

This is all by-the-by (what does that even mean?), though. What Ebert is saying is directly relevant, a decade later, to The Bourne Ultimatum. You need proof the man is an almost genius at his trade, there it is.

The reason its relevant is that The Bourne films, since the Doug Liman directed Identity, aim to achieve that same wrung-out effect James Cameron brought to the Alien franchise back in the days of Yore (and shoulder pads).

I think Identity is a brilliant film despite the fact that, whatever people say, its just as implausible as any Bond.

For starters, no-one has ever adequately explained to me why Bourne has the account number of a bank he regularly uses in a laser pen fitted into his hip. I know its the catalyst of the plot and a brilliant image with which to start a film but... why did someone go to all that effort? He's been hardwired with a photographic memory, after all. Did someone at Treadstone guess the whole amnesia thing could happen, years earlier?

Surely, if he was to be killed or captured, it would be a huge security liability?

Bourne chase-walking through a crowd

Yet, in shooting it how he shoots it and crafting action sequences the way he does, Liman is able to drape the whole situation in a noticeable credibility. Its all in the details, after all. Chased through an American embassy by the heavily armed marine garrison, Bourne pauses for a moment and wrenches a map of the interior off the wall.

Its nothing and, yet, its everything. Apparently, Liman's team took hours to come up with moments like this. Simple but supremely clever, showing the tactical genius and under-fire coolness of Bourne's character.

In the end of that first film, he seems to come to terms with himself and his past and decide on a new future for himself and that woman out of Run Lola Run. Treadstone is shut down. Le fin.

Of course, given that the source material is a trilogy of Robert Ludlum books and that gives the film makers at least three titles for shiny summer blockbusters, there were always going to be sequels, despite the fact that, narratively speaking, Bourne's story was done.

Liman passed directorial duties to Paul Greengrass. And Paul Greengrass decided that what the film needed, what the established Bourne formula needed, was a severe shake-up.

Not in the way you might think. In a lot of ways, Greengrass has just adhered to the template established in the first film. Numerous continental locations, Bourne on the run, numerous shadowy government assassins (none as awesome as Clive Owen's hideously underused Professor), a fight with a ridiculous household object, a finale car chase. Bourne limping off at the end. Because a limp and a bit of a jam-sandwich blood here and there = realism. "You never see Bond limp, goddammit!"

Bourne chase-walking through a crowd again.

No, this was not a shake-up in terms of plot or characters but in terms of every single fucking shot.

For some reason, we are now supposed to believe that a documentary crew of the fearless, unflappable Saving Private Ryan ilk are following Bourne (and everyone else around) and, for some bloody reason, they can't keep the camera straight. Even when two characters face one another and discuss killing people over breakfast, the camera flutters about like a hyperactive two year old is in control.

I've watched a couple of documentaries. Quite often, in Channel Four's run of The Man With the Exploding Face-style films, the camera was still for more than a minute at a time. Honestly.

In Supremacy, I was sitting too close to the screen and the shaky shaky shakes affecting every sequence were so bad, I came out with a headache and a touch of motion sickness. In all seriousness, I felt terrible after watching the film. The car chase at the end, apparently one of the best ever, was completely incomprehensible.

Yet, dutifully, having seen the world and its wife rave about Ultimatum, I went along. I sat at the back and tried to concentrate as much as possible.

Now, it seemed to me that, particularly at the beginning of the film, the shaky-doc stylings had been a little toned down. I could pick up which character was which and what they were doing and (even!) where they were.

Yet, by the end, I was wrung-out and unhappy just like Ebert in 1986. Not from tension and the stress of watching Bourne fluke from one horrible walk-chase-through-a-crowd to another walk-chase-through-a-different-nationality-of-crowd but from the sheer un-resting shakiness of the cinematography.

"Oh God! Not again!"

I have other faults with the film. The hideous underuse of another great British actor (this time Paddy Considine) for one. The character arc for Bourne, for another. I found him immensely preferable before, thanks. On top of that, the CIA's dogged pursuit of Bourne was understandable in the first film, where he had failed an Op and gone seemingly rogue. Now, it seems a little arbitrary.

The Good Spy Woman says, "Hey, lets bring him in for interrogation!"

The Bad Spy Man says, "NO! KILL PUSSYCAT KILL!"

Why kill off Brian Cox just to bring him back in all but name? And why is Julia Stiles the only damn CIA agent in the whole of the western hemisphere?

The hints at a pre-amnesiac romance between Stiles' character (never did get her name, sorry) and Bourne are just silly, considering Stiles' somewhat emotionless response to Bourne's execution orders she prints off in Identity.

Also, in one of the greatest, most brutal fist-fights the movies have ever produced, why does the other guy fighting Bourne have to spoil it all by doing a fucking kung fu flip?

Again, though, these criticisms are irrelevant.

Towards the end of his Aliens review, Ebert states: "Yet I have to be accurate about this movie: It is a superb example of filmmaking craft."

This is the difference. The filmmaking in the Bourne films crafted in Greengrass' trademark way is not superb. I came out exhausted, yes, but for all the wrong reasons, my eyes were throbbing and I felt dizzy. What greater reason is there to be critical of a film than if it actually makes you feel physically rotten?