This ought to make Michael Moore's day

I caught this news article almost in passing, but Roger Smith, the former CEO of General Motors, has died at the ripe young age of 82. Smith wouldn't be known to much of America were it not for a little documentary by Michael Moore (his first, I believe) entitled Roger & Me, where he tries to get an interview with the CEO after downsizing GM and causing economic trouble in Moore's hometown of Flint, Michigan.

Crash

On a hot Sunday afternoon in July of '05, I walked out of the AMC movie theater in Alexandria, having seen Crash for the first time . . . and I literally felt like I had been gutted. I went into this movie knowing very little about it, you see—I had seen a few teaser trailers, knew that it largely examined race in L.A., knew that it featured an all-star cast, knew that it shared its name with a 1996 David Cronenberg movie (which, for the record, is one of the weirdest films I've ever seen), but Crash nevertheless remained mysterious for me going into the theaters. Suffice it to say, Crash became a far greater experience for me than I had ever anticipated, and I left the theater that day knowing that I had never in my life experienced a movie so brutal—but so remarkably real.

The film opens with a distant voiceover as the opening credits roll, which turns out to be Detective Graham Waters (Don Cheadle) reflecting on the connection and associations people make—or their general lack thereof. His assumption: that people are so isolated, so lonely, that they often have to "crash into each other, just so we can feel something." Whether that's his actual philosophy on life or the confused mutterings of someone who's just been in a car wreck (in point of fact, Graham's police cruiser had just been rear-ended) is another matter. But it sums up the theme of the movie perfectly: that human tensions simmer beneath our veneer of skin so long that when they finally do surface, they explode in a violent crash.

Crash is a major ensemble piece, and the story is actually told in flashback, first showing Graham and his partner Ria (Jennifer Esposito) coming to a crime scene . . . one that the audience can tell strikes right at Graham's heart. But that's all the exposition we get, because from here, we move back 36 hours, where we explore the lives of several characters—many of them intertwining irrevocably with the other. It starts in a gunshop where an Iranian shopkeeper and his daughter are purchasing a gun from a rather redneck owner. Cultural tensions and stereotyping show up almost immediately (do I really need to explain why?), but from the perspective of the all-seeing/all-knowing audience, we understand that the prejudice and stereotyping in this scene arise out of ignorance, whereas the characters do not.

This is largely the case for many other scenes and characters, too. Take, for example, Sandra Bullock's stereotypical response to the Hispanic locksmith Daniel (the always-excellent Michael Peña) when he's changing the locks on her house after she and her District Attorney husband (Brendan Fraser) get carjacked by two black youths (Larenz Tate and rapper Ludacris). She just blindly assumes that Daniel is part of a Hispanic gang, and angrily demands that her husband have new locks put on the doors the next morning.



What she doesn't see is Daniel's return home—but we as the audience do, and what follows is a truly beautiful scene with his daughter, one that breaks our preconceptions of him and allows us to see him as the loving father he is.



The acting all around was just incredible! I was particularly struck by Terence Howard's portrayal of Cameron, the TV director who find his sense of race and personal pride awakened . . . and enraged. Thandie Newton's portrayal of his wife Christine was just as strong, as she struggles with her own sense of ego, love, and violation—all at the hands of police officer Ryan, as portrayed by Matt Dillon in what was nothing short of a showstopper performance. When he stumbles upon Cameron and Christine for the first time, he shocks us with an unexpected (and very uncomfortable) scene of brutality and humiliation.



Officer Ryan, though, isn't quite as hateful and demeaning as he first comes across. In reality, all the anger and power he asserts over Cameron and Christine are misplaced pain and frustration at being unable to find proper medical care for his father, who's suffering from a bad urinary infection and spends many sleepless nights in pain. Naturally this takes a toll on Officer Ryan, because he genuinely cares for his father; but he vents his anger in the wrong places, on the wrong people—as was evidenced when he pulls Cameron over that night, and when he angrily unloads on the insurance rep (Loretta Devine) later on.

But despite all these characters with all these flaws, chances of redemption are offered. Take Officer Ryan when he stumbles across Christine's car accident the next day. This scene still makes me shiver every time I see it—but it nevertheless serves as Officer Ryan's penance.



At the end of the day, though, another hard lesson is learned—that sometimes not everyone achieves redemption. Sometimes those with the best intentions, or those we think are the most upstanding, have shattering moments of weakness where they end up committing terrible acts that will haunt them forever. Take, for example, the scene where Officer Tom (Ryan Phillippe) picks up hitchhiker Peter (Larenz Tate). Or when Farhad (who bought the gun in the movie's first scene) pays a visit to Daniel's house and blames him for the robbery at his store. Worse yet is how race often has political undertones. I'm genuinely almost frightened by the conversation that takes place between Graham Waters and the DA's assistant Flanagan (William Fichtner), because not only does it highlight some of the racial politics that take place in this world, but some of Flanagan's claims are flat-out dangerous.

But the problem is . . . these are all the terrible realities we face every day: the pre-conceived notions of others, the politics, the stereotyping, all of which affect our actions in unexpected and sometimes unthinkable ways.

I'm truly fascinated by studies of human nature, and the more brutally honest, the better! As such, Crash spoke to me in a way no other film ever has before. I'm not a person who fears brutal honesty . . . but Crash took that brutal honesty to a degree of realism far greater than I ever conceived. Because it didn't just hit me on the head with an resolute no-holding-back approach to human stereotyping and false presumptions—it literally kicked me in the balls . . . again and again!!! What makes Crash unique is that it's a story about people, not of slam-bang action and explosions, or of surface relationships that just showcase events for our entertainment. Crash is about people and how they act towards others unlike them, and how they respond to events that happen to them. It forces us to examine our world from a very critical—and not altogether pleasant—vantage point, in the hopes that doing so will enable us to better ourselves.

When I left the theater that hot July afternoon in 2005, I could hear myself thinking, "Please, let this movie receive the Oscar attention it deserves!" I got my wish, too, for at the Oscar ceremony seven months later, Jack Nicholson opened up the Best Picture envelope, and with a noticeably surprised look on his face, read, "Crash!" At that moment, I genuinely couldn't believe my ears (like everyone else, I thought that Brokeback Mountain would take home the Best Picture gold), but I was nevertheless overjoyed. I'd also been crossing my fingers for Matt Dillon in the Best Supporting Actor category—though I must admit to being torn between rooting for him and George Clooney (I'd have been happy in either case, really). I was kinda hoping for a Best Actor nomination for Terence Howard, too, because when he looks at Anthony (rapper Ludacris) and silently utters, "You embarrass me", it conveys a sense of pain and shame so strong that it's impossible to ignore. (For the record, Howard did receive a Best Actor nomination that year, but for Hustle & Flow instead of Crash).

But I was overjoyed because this powerful movie, this terribly honest and harsh portrayal of human flaws was being recognized for the achievement it was. Crash isn't a feel-good movie by a long shot, but it still left me with a feeling of hope at the end. Though the hope that writer/director Paul Haggis offers isn't the age-old "we need to overcome race" motif, but rather that our salvation comes from our basic human desire to not see another human being suffer. Much like Traffic, the overall big picture is one that's very sour—but an individual can still rise above the ashes and find peace. 10 out of 10.

Has Rob Schneider become Adam Sandler's bitch?

I think the title says it all, folks. Because I recently watched 50 First Dates for the first time (which turned out to be a surprisingly good movie!), and after seeing Rob Schneider's supporting role as resident moron punching bag, it suddenly dawned on me that he's been in damn near every Adam Sandler movie of late—and always in that same punching-bag role!

Think of such Sandler movies as The Longest Yard (where he had probably one of the best lines), Click, Big Daddy, Mr. Deeds, The Waterboy—all of them featured Rob Schneider cameos in some fashion. So having said that, I have to wonder why Rob Schneider doesn't return the favor with his own movies—by featuring Adam Sandler in an uncredited supporting role. (Though for all we know, he might have stolen the show more than Eddie Griffin did in Deuce Bigalow.)

Where's a Vulcan mind meld when you need one (II)

Like the last time, I've got a song stuck in my head that's driving me crazy! And once again, rather than fight it, I'm embracing it.

(Though to be honest, I like this version much better than Wizard of Oz.)

It's a beautiful morning

This morning I managed to snap some photos of Pentagon City from the roof of Riverhouse. It was truly a breathtaking morning, and I couldn't resist a few snapshots while it was so nice out.

The Capitol in the distance

Storm clouds over DC

Crystal City

The Metropolitan and the Pentagon

Lovely trees

The Pentagon

The Lincoln Memorial

15th Street in Pentagon City

Thanksgiving recap

Well, now that I've eaten my weight in turkey and finished up all the leftovers, I think I can finally sit down and loosen the belt at least one notch.

Suffice it to say, Thanksgiving was a great success! I spent the holiday up in PA with my family, and my mother made her first Thanksgiving meal since 2004 (we spent 2005 and 2006 at my grandfather's). I have to say, over the years I've grown a great appreciation for the efforts that go into cooking a full-on Thanksgiving feast: slaving so many hours over the stove, only to have to whole meal over and done with in 20 minutes . . . the great tragedy of cooking. But I have to say, nevertheless, the turkey was fabulous!

As was the apple pie. (And I can still hear my grandmother, one of the biggest bluffers of her time, faking worry about how she feared her apple pie would turn out. We knew damn well she was just fishing for comments.)

As a matter of fact, the entire feast was divine!

Over the holiday weekend, I was reminded of a sweet potato dish from a few Thanksgivings ago that's still being yearned for by a select few (myself included), but this year's potatoes were mashed—which I can easily live with, as it goes perfectly with the great helpings of turkey, stuffing, creamed corn, cranberry sauce, and bread.

A great kudos to my mother for serving up yet another fabulous Thanksgiving! (Though why my father doesn't buy a dishwasher I'll never know.)

Let's all break into the Appalachian State fight song!

I caught this bit of news on ESPN very briefly, and couldn't believe my eyes when I saw it: Michigan head coach Lloyd Carr has stepped down! Rumors of his retirement have been circling for a while now, but I didn't want to subscribe to the rumors until I'd heard an official announcement. And it came tonight!

I can't say I'm sorry to see him go, particularly since he's largely why Penn State didn't have an undefeated season in 2005. I'm sure they're all saying that he's been considering retirement for a while, but I'm willing to bet ya that the season-opening Appalachian State loss firmly cemented his departure.

Anyone who beats Notre Dame . . .

It's been something of a banner year for Notre Dame—a year firmly in the shitter! They have only one win under their belts this year . . . just one!!! And if they finish this season with a second win, I think Irish eyes will do more than smile. I think they'll finish off the world's supply of Guinness in pure ecstasy!

When Penn State beat Notre Dame earlier this year, I got such a good laugh out of all the anti-Notre Dame apparel that was on display: shirts such as "Rudy was offsides" and "Send Charlie back to the chocolate factory!" At the current going rate, he just might be! Because as one article correctly notes, this has got to be Notre Dame's worst-ever season, and if Charlie Weis is still on Notre Dame's payroll in December, it'll be nothing short of a miracle. Hell, it's so bad that even The Onion is scoring points (pun certainly intended!) off of Notre Dame's losing streak! (A special note to Notre Dame fans: I would not wear that as a badge of honor.)

A few weekends ago, I went with Will and Erica to a Penn State Icers hockey game (my first game in over 7 years, and definitely more exciting than the Caps), and the opponent just so happened to be Navy. That same day, Navy had just beaten Notre Dame for the first time in like 41 years, and suffice it to say, the Navy fans were happy. Me, personally, I'm always happy when Notre Dame loses, and I admit to getting a kind of perverse pleasure in seeing them slog their way through this season with nary a win to their name. Though pleasure notwithstanding, I am still surprised, because Notre Dame isn't a team that normally falls to pieces like this.

Perhaps it is time to send Charlie back to the chocolate factory! For all we know, Lloyd Carr may not be far behind, either.

A year of blogging!

Well, it has now officially been one year since I first began blogging. On a wing and a prayer, I posted my first entry a year ago tonight, and have made it a (semi) notable year since then:

• Reviewing close to 80 movies
• Live-blogging the Oscar ceremony this year
• Keeping up to speed on the Indy 4 sequel and Star Trek prequel
• Ranting, raving, and occasionally praising my Nittany Lions and Nationals
• Recognizing many birthdays
• Sharing a few laughs from my warped sense of humor
• Keeping everyone abreast about life here in the nation's capital

What can I say in closing except, may the coming year be another landmark year of blogging!

The Silence of the Lambs

My first exposure to The Silence of the Lambs was in the 8th grade—not from seeing the movie, but from reading the book. A few years later, I listened to Kathy Bates' famous narration of this book on tape, and at one point down the road (though I can't remember when), I finally saw the movie. Just recently I gave The Silence of the Lambs another viewing, and while it still remained the good story I remember from way back when, I was struck by several other factors this time around: like how compelling a film this is, how groundbreaking the shots were executed, and how stunning the performances are. It also struck me that, at the time it was released, the psychological thriller (particularly with serial killers as its focus) wasn't as big a medium as it is now (think Se7en, Zodiac), which may have been why it became such a mega-hit . . . and why it damn near swept the 1991 Oscars.

It was fiction author Thomas Harris who introduced the world to the character of Dr. Hannibal Lecter, and he has since gone down as one of the most notorious and fearful screen villains, courtesy of Anthony Hopkins' legendary portrayal. Though it wasn't until a few years ago that it finally became known (or at least widely known) that Hannibal Lecter's first appearance wasn't in The Silence of the Lambs. It was in Harris's previous novel, Red Dragon, that his genesis took place, in much the same circumstances, too—helping an FBI agent track down a killer. The novel Red Dragon was actually filmed in 1986 by director Michael Mann under the new title of Manhunter, starring William Petersen in the lead role and featuring Brian Cox as the good doctor. But it was Anthony Hopkins who firmly cemented the legacy of Dr. Lecter into cinematic history.

The Silence of the Lambs tells the story of FBI trainee Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster), who's recruited by division chief Jack Crawford (Scott Glenn) for a special assignment: interview the institutionalized serial killer Dr. Hannibal "The Cannibal" Lecter (Anthony Hopkins) in the hopes that Lecter will help create a psychological profile that'll aid in the capturing of another serial killer, "Buffalo Bill" (so nicknamed because he skins his victims). The FBI's got no leads on Buffalo Bill, and he's already claimed five victims. Things get enormously more complicated, too, when Bill kidnaps a sixth girl in Memphis . . . who just so happens to be the daughter of a U.S. Senator. But Lecter, who very likely knows the identity of Buffalo Bill from his psychiatrist years, likes to speak in riddles and innuendo, and his tête-à-têtes with Starling showcase how easily—and how irrevocably and inescapably—he can get into one's head. And that's exactly what Starling must risk in order to save Buffalo Bill's sixth victim.

What really struck me on this last viewing was something that I noticed way back during my first viewing many years ago: the straight-on shots of all the characters—i.e., most (if not all) of the characters looked directly at the camera when speaking. There was none of the customary filming, where the audience merely observes characters talking or acting; this was a full-on assault of the audience, having the characters being thrust right out at you, and it worked to amazing effect in The Silence of the Lambs. I can only think of a handful of films that have since utilized this technique (The Fountain is the only one that comes immediately to mind), but in 1991, this was definitely groundbreaking. And it afforded us real glimpses into the depths of the characters, allowing us to see their pains, their fears, their power . . . and allowing us to be manipulated in much the same fashion that Lecter manipulates Starling.

One of the best scenes to illustrate this technique is Starling's final meeting with Lecter, when he's holed up in the makeshift cell in a Memphis statehouse. Lecter's direct view to the audience, in supreme close-up, is amazingly and beautifully unnerving, and Starling's direct view shows how much the skeletons in her closet still haunt her. This is truly a magnificent scene.



I have to admit, it still puzzles me that this was awarded Best Picture at the 1991 Oscars. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining! But it just strikes me as an uncharacteristic choice to nominate (let alone award) Best Motion Picture of the Year. Particularly when you factor in that year's competition: Bugsy, JFK, The Prince of Tides, and of all things, Beauty and the Beast. But then again, it occurs to me that maybe I have to view The Silence of the Lambs in the context of the time, much like The French Connection and its own Best Picture win in 1971. When viewed in today's context, it may not make a lot of sense. But when viewed in the context of the time it was released, when movies like this were new and visionary, it makes far more sense. Though I sure won't knock the acting awards it received! Anthony Hopkins was absolutely stellar, totally deserving his Best Actor award (though some have argued that it should have been Supporting Actor, since his screen time was somewhere in the vicinity of 16 or 17 minutes). Hopkins displayed Lecter as an intimate father-confessor and a terribly dangerous killer all in one. His escape from Memphis, where we only see his blank face while brutally beating another cop, is enough to make a guy shiver to the bone. And Jodie Foster, still somewhat fresh off her Oscar win for The Accused three years prior, shows how subtlety can actually be more revealing.

Though if I have one gripe about a performance, it was Scott Glenn as Jack Crawford. I don't know why, but Glenn kept him too straight and narrow for my tastes. I think his character had much greater, and more human, depth in the novel. Because in the novel, he's in the process of burying his wife during the Buffalo Bill search. Though Anthony Heald (who bears a terrifying resemblance to a certain chief executive who goes by his middle initial) did Dr. Frederick Chilton to a T, as Heald's Chilton was just as underhanded, manipulative, and opportunistic as he was in the novel.

And Ted Levine as Buffalo Bill? I remember reading somewhere that director Jonathon Demme called his performance "courageous", and I'd have to agree with that! The very nature of Jame Gumb's character was very unnerving, and required a very daring actor to pull it off: a serial killer who was a transsexual wannabe, killing his victims so he could use their skin to create a "girl suit", as it were. (I'd actually forgotten about his infamous "Goodbye Horses" scene until I saw Jason Mewes imitate it in Clerks 2.) There was actually a line in the novel that I wish they'd have used, because it essentially tricks the reader/viewer into thinking it's an enigmatic but ultimately meaningless bit of info at the beginning of the story, when in fact they've just been given the very nub of the story: I think it was during one of Starling's first visits with Lecter, when she asks why Buffalo Bill is killing his victims, and Lecter replies, "He wants a vest with tits."

And since we're talking about the original novel, the adaptation to the big screen remained very true to the book, which pleases me greatly—because it was in the early '90s when movie-book adaptations finally began remaining true to each other and not totally recreating stories (think some of the James Bond movies of old, which paralleled Ian Fleming's novels in title and character only). But not only were the characters well developed in The Silence of the Lambs, but moods and thought patterns were portrayed in very physical ways! For example, Starling at times has to fight for her place in the midst of a male-dominated world of law enforcement. For starters, when she boards the elevator at the beginning of the film to meet Crawford, she's not only the only female in the car, but is clearly the shortest person there—analogous to a small person living in a world of giants. A good physical analogy on the part of director Demme! Plus, the examination of a Buffalo Bill victim in a West Virginia funeral home added to this notion, where the contempt for Starling (and by extension, women in law enforcement) was very palpable when she's suddenly alone with all the silent, staring sheriff's deputies. How she gained professional respect with them was quite unexpected, but nevertheless clever: she spoke to them on their level—i.e., she donned her Southern accent and spoke to them as she would to another Southerner. That showed the deputies that she wasn't just another Washington bigwig, but instead was one of them.

9 out of 10! A well-made film that ushered in a new era in filming, setting the standard for psychological thrillers to come (even if it does feel a little dated).

Dante's inferno (literally!)

When Will first blogged about this yesterday, I about died laughing. Not only because it was so funny, but because the video clip below is something a bunch of us have been waiting for for some time!

Anyway, my friend Wiley is a big Clerks fan, and about a year or so ago, he told the story of how he and another friend of ours, Tom, traveled to New Jersey to attend Vulgarthon (the annual Clerks party put on by filmmaker Kevin Smith). And one night, Wiley got to party with Brian O'Hallorann, the actor who played Dante in Clerks, but apparently Tom was too tired and decided to skip the party—and according to Wiley, Brian O'Hallorann went on a hilarious 5- to 10-minute rant of how big a loser Tom was for missing the party.

And for all of us unfortunate enough to not be there to hear Brian O'Hallorann's ranting, Tom was kind enough to post it on YouTube for all of us to share.



Boy, nothing says lovin' like havin' your balls busted by a Hollywood actor, right? ;)

DVD stalemate

According to CEO of Sony, the DVD race between Blu-Ray and the competing HD-DVD have reached a stalemate. I don't necessarily see this as a bad thing, primarily because I'm perfectly satisfied with regular DVD and don't want be, as a DVD consumer, forced to upgrade yet again (particularly since I own close to 100 DVDs).

Now I know that Blu-Ray and HD-DVD players can play conventional DVDs in their players, but what concerns me is the day when a movie I want to own doesn't get released on conventional DVD, but rather released on HD-DVD or Blu-Ray only! That's what worries me as a DVD consumer, because then I'm forced to buy a new player that I didn't want (or need) in the first place.

I have to be honest, I find this whole format war very tiresome. While I enjoy movies a great deal, I don't find it essential to watch it in supersonic surround sound or razor-sharp image. I'm perfectly content with respectable sound and image that I can watch on any TV. In other words, my expectations aren't so high that I'm going to stop watching movies if I can't get sound so strong that my walls get blown out (think of that THX sound test at the beginning of most DVDs).

A green light or yellow light for the ICC?

I first heard the news last night on the radio, but apparently a federal judge has paved the way (pun intended) for the Intercounty Connector, better known as the ICC, to begin construction.

The ICC, the proposed highway that would traverse Montgomery and Prince George's County, MD, from Gaithersburg to Laurel (essentially linking Interstates 270 and 95), has been the subject of massive controversy because of protests from environmental groups, claiming that the environmental study conducted on the project was flawed and inadequate. Despite these protests, Judge Alexander Williams, Jr. signed off on the environmental study, which essentially green-lights construction to begin. I have no doubt, though, that the environmental groups will appeal the case—thus reducing that green light to a yellow light.

Even though I have no use for the road personally (since I live in Virgina), I nevertheless think the ICC is a great idea, because as it stands right now, if someone from Gaithersburg or the 270 corridor wants to make their way over to the 95 corridor, there's very little to do except drive down to the Beltway and take it west to 95—which encompasses a lot of travel time, particularly in rush hour. The ICC can effectively eliminate that need, plus relieve a good bit of congestion on 270, 495, and 95.

It amazes me, too, that this piece of road has been the subject of intense debate for nearly 50 years! That means it was being debated back before the Beltway was even built!

Nothing is sacred anymore (VI)

Following up the Pulp Muppets movie trailer some time ago, various other movie trailers have now been recut on YouTube to the Muppets. I've ranked these three in order from worst to best.

The Blair Witch Project



House of 1000 Corpses



The Matrix

Could this give Gatorade a run for the money?

An article in Britain's Daily Mail reported of a scientific experiment that actually made the following conclusion: beer is more effective at rehydrating people than water after exercise! Apparently the experiment was conducted in Spain, whereby one group was given two half-pints of lager after exercise, while another group was given water. After those two drinks, both groups were only allowed to drink water, and the beer group was found to be better hydrated than the water group. Scientists attributed beer's hydration power thusly:

Researchers suspect that the sugars, salts and bubbles in a pint may help people absorb fluids more quickly.

Now after reading this article, I have to wonder two things: 1) Where can I find a pint of Guinness? And 2) Why didn't I find this article in The Onion???

An X-Files sequel!

It's apparently official: The X-Files, that fabulous TV series from the '90s about the paranormal, is going to film a sequel to its 1998 feature film! Production starts on December 10.

While I'm not displeased by this bit of news, it does puzzle me, mostly because a) when it gets released, it'll be 10 years (almost to the day!) since the original feature film, The X-Files: Fight the Future, premiered in theaters, b) the show's been out of syndication since 2002, and c) when taken together, I have to wonder if anyone's going to be flocking to the theaters to see this. I mean, while it does have a fan following, it's not exactly a hot commodity anymore.

I've been making these same points about the upcoming Star Trek prequel and Indy 4 for some time now—though despite my qualms about all three movies, I'll still probably end up seeing them in the theaters.

Big Ten Network wants to clear the air?

In my daily Penn State NewsWire e-mail, I saw an article about the Big Ten Network and all myths/facts associated thereto. Given that they've been a bit of a thorn in my side this season, I may be a little biased against them, but in all fairness, I read the article just to see what they had to say—though I entered it thinking they'd try to portray themselves in the best light possible, that they're the good guys, that they're always thinking of the consumer . . . and of course, I was right. (I also happened to notice that they had a few subtle shots at Comcast.)

The last myth/fact really made me laugh, though.

MYTH: If I don't like sports I shouldn't have to pay for the network.
FACT: Everyone pays for channels they don't watch.

Yeah, and as Brad Pitt says in Fight Club, sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.

The Bourne Ultimatum

I got hooked on the Bourne franchise pretty much with the first movie. The Bourne Identity holds the honor of being the first DVD I ever purchased, and when The Bourne Supremacy hit the theaters in 2004, I was very excited (and pleased with the results). It's now been three years since Jason Bourne last graced the big screen, so I anticipated The Bourne Ultimatum with simply the expectation that I'd enjoy it, plain and simple—though admittedly, I didn't have a clue where they could take the story line after the second movie.

The first thing that naturally came to mind, given that this is a conclusion to a trilogy, was whether or not you'd have to see the first two Bourne films in order to understand this one. That always grinds my gears a little bit, because I believe that, even if you are working with a trilogy or saga, each installment should be able to stand firmly on its own. Take, for example, the Rocky franchise. Each movie is more or less standalone, and not hampered by the necessity to see the previous films first. Here with The Bourne Ultimatum, elements of the previous films do show up, but director Paul Greengrass was gracious enough to flash back to their corresponding scenes in Identity and Supremacy for those not yet familiar with those films.

The Bourne Ultimatum begins in Moscow—and given the bent-up physical shape that Bourne's in at first, it quickly becomes clear that these scenes take place immediately after the slam-bang car chase through Moscow at the end of Supremacy. Logistically this would make sense, because at the end of Supremacy, Bourne apologizes to a young Russian girl whose father he'd killed as his first assignment. So in a repentant mode, he now looks (at the beginning of Ultimatum) to discover who set the Treadstone project in motion, and in the process, set things right with his creators.

At the same time, he stumbles upon British spy reporter Simon Ross, who's discovered a top-secret CIA project called Blackbriar (which was actually mentioned very briefly in the first film, when Abbott was telling a Congressional budget panel that Treadstone had essentially been decommissioned). The discovery of Blackbriar brings Ross to the attention of CIA deputy director Noah Vosen (David Strathairn), who sends in Treadstone agents to kill Ross. Jason Bourne manages to intercept Ross at Waterloo Station in London, but is unable to save him despite a very exciting cat-and-mouse game that brilliantly showcases Bourne's survival instincts. And when Vosen sees Bourne enter the mix, he's understandably thrown for a loop. In the hopes of finding out Bourne's involvement with Ross, Vosen decides to bring in Pamela Landy (Joan Allen), the local Bourne expert from the previous Bourne installment. Thus, the search for Jason Bourne begins.

Greengrass's trademark visuals from The Bourne Supremacy flowed right into Ultimatum, most notably the handheld-camera action/fight sequences. They weren't received very well in Supremacy (even though I found it to be an intriguing approach—his whole "make the audience a part of the action" motif), but here in Ultimatum, I think it worked very well! The principal fight scene takes place in Tangiers, where Nikki (the always-hot Julia Stiles) and Jason are first trailing a Blackbriar turncoat who's been targeted by Treadstone . . . then they themselves become the targets after trying to help the mark. This results in a rather long foot chase through the streets of Tangiers for Nikki, followed by a rooftop chase for Jason, culminating in an apartment fight that's very reminiscent of the Paris apartment fight in Identity—only 10 times more intense! Here, the jerky-quick camera shots made the apartment fight so much more intense, so much more edge-of-your-seat, so much more angry and furious . . . so much more realistic, in my opinion. And as in all previous Bourne films, there's a fabulous car chase midway through the film. Though instead of Paris or Moscow, this car chase goes through New York, with equally as much carnage left in its wake (personally, I thought the Moscow car chase in Supremacy was the best one).

Speaking of Nikki, her entrance into the film was rather unexpected, and came at something of an inopportune time, I think. For a brief time, too, I was beginning to wonder if she was going to stand in, as it were, for Marie (Bourne's girlfriend from the first two films)—though that thankfully didn't come to fruition. Nikki's character did serve the plot well, though, for she had been part of Jason's mission from the beginning, and was really one of the last people to help Jason Bourne discover his origins and his true identity . . . and in the process, she herself learns a terrible lesson in how quickly loyalties can change in this business.

If I had one problem with The Bourne Ultimatum, it would be in the casting choices, because a few were a bit mixed in my opinion. All of the major characters from the previous installments returned for Ultimatum, but added to the mix were Albert Finney and Scott Glenn—both of whom I felt were underutilized. Scott Glenn played the director of the CIA, who really only served as a fall guy from whom to deter accountability for Blackbriar. And Albert Finney's role as Jason Bourne's original trainer could have been expanded a good bit more. As much as I liked this film, I really felt that his character was thrown together without the depth that it obviously necessitated—particularly for someone as essential as Jason Bourne's creator. Matt Damon, as always, was fabulous as Bourne. As was Joan Allen as Pamela Landy—though I do admit, she did have to grow on me from Supremacy onward (I don't admit to being much of a Joan Allen fan). David Strathairn, though, was absolutely fabulous as the high-up CIA man with dark agendas and dangerous secrets. He did his damndest to keep Landy in the dark about Blackbriar, skillfully maneuvered around her politically, and exuded desperate determination to bring Bourne down at all costs. In the process, many of today's hot-button political issues rose to the surface, like warrantless wiretapping, but Ultimatum flirted with them only briefly. Though it was nevertheless a fabulous performance by Strathairn.

Also, about halfway through the film, I noticed something unexpected: I don't know if it was deliberate recycling or just Greengrass poking fun at himself and the Bourne franchise, but quite a lot of scenes mirrored (if not directly duplicated!) scenes from the previous Bourne installments! For example:

• Nikki washing and coloring her hair was very reminiscent of Marie doing the same in a Paris apartment in Identity
• Nikki and Jason have a late-night diner scene that eerily resembles another late-night diner scene from Identity
• Jason pays a visit to Marie's brother and breaks the news of her death, very much mirroring Jason's "apology" to the Russian daughter in Supremacy
• The final scene of Supremacy, where Landy and Bourne are on the phone and she, as a kind gesture, starts to tell him about who he used to be, was incorporated into the final act of Ultimatum
• Jason's final line of dialogue, where he looks over at the Treadstone agent who has Jason in his sights: "Look at this . . . look at what they make you give." Those were the exact same lines spoken by Clive Owen's Professor in Identity as he lay dying in a French cornfield
• And I didn't even notice this at first, but Ultimatum's closing scene brings the series full circle: the shot of Jason floating in the waters of the East River mirrors the opening shot of Identity, when he's found wounded in the middle of the Mediterranean

I'm not going to give away the ending here, but let me just say this: Greengrass really pulled out all the stops with The Bourne Ultimatum, so much so that I truly began to wonder just how far some of these characters would go to attain their objectives. Compared to the previous two films, Ultimatum was surprisingly dark! And as the final few minutes drew closer and closer, I began to ponder several unthinkable scenarios, all leaving me with nail-biting tension as the final seconds ticked out: is Nikki going to die? Is Pamela Landy going to be killed à la Conklin? Will Noah Vosen go the way of Ward Abbott when pushed up against the wall? And most of all . . . will Jason Bourne himself die?

I think Paul Greengrass is now forever linked with the Bourne film franchise, even though it was started by Doug Liman. As to which director was better, I really can't say. Liman created something extraordinary with The Bourne Identity, and Greengrass brought some new elements to the franchise while still remaining true to Liman's original vision.

I'm very tempted to give this a 10, but again, some of the acting choices didn't sit well with me. Plus, the recycling of scenes felt a bit unnecessary, despite whatever playful intentions Greengrass had. That being said, I still rate this a strong 9, and a very worthy conclusion to the trilogy (provided, of course, they don't adapt the "ghost writer" Bourne stories that some fiction authors have continued).