Starring: Matt Damon, Franka Potente, Chris Cooper, Clive Owen, Julia Stiles

The Bourne Identity is so old-fashioned it's refreshing. Well-written, well-directed, and for the most part, well-acted, the film is a coldly effective action movie. It may lack a soul, but it makes up for it with a storytelling efficiency rarely seen on screen these days.

Full disclosure-- I never read the Robert Ludlum novel the film is based on, although if cornered by wolverines, I will admit to seeing portions of the old television miniseries with Richard "I am very macho, thank you" Chamberlain. Thus, while I can not vouch for its success as a literary adaptation, Identity certainly works as a movie.

The biggest surprise is how well Matt Damon fits the role of action hero Jason Bourne. Unlike his friend Ben Affleck, who never appeared that comfortable as a super-spy in The Sum of All Fears, a noticeably bulked-up Damon plays the part like a pro. Even better, given the central conceit of the story – that Bourne can't remember who he is – we get a number of nifty sequences where Damon gets to play the Everyman, totally unaware that he is, in the words of Chris Cooper's CIA agent, "a $30 million dollar killing machine." We get to watch Bourne surprising himself with the knowledge that, wow, he can kill people with his bare hands, scale walls like Spider-Man, and drive a Mini through Paris like he was playing Project Gotham Racing on an Xbox (or, for you Luddites still saddled with Playstation 2, Gran Turismo).

The talented Mister Damon sure is a long way from all the pretty horses.

Too bad Bourne can't love anyone right. The very fine Franka Potente (formerly of Run, Lola, Run) plays a bohemian student aimlessly wandering Europe. Through a series of events (starting with Bourne's thrilling escape from the U.S. Consulate in Zurich), she pairs up with Bourne while he attempts to unravel the secret behind his amnesia. Potente has a bubbly, unaffected personality that really shines on the screen, but Damon doesn't seem interested in her at all. Sure, he's supposed to be cool and distant as he dispatches a motley retinue of Eurotrash spies with lizard-like savagery, but it's as if Matt spent so much time convincing himself that he had to be a tough guy that he found little motivation to connect with his co-star. The only rationale for Potente's character to be enamored with Bourne is that a) he's handsome, b) he has lots of money in non-sequential bills, and c) he can kill a person with a pen. I never really bought that Bourne would care so much for her, aside from how she's the only person he knows.

"Franka, my dear, I don't give a damn."

However, that's a minor quibble in an otherwise slick film. There's some flashy editing here and there – I was giddy as the film used corny wipes and transitions to show the C.I.A. calling in assassins from across Europe, each of them garnering their own little intro sequences showcasing the Italian superspy, the German superspy, and, you guessed it, Clive Owen. This is one of those movies that requires little characterization, for the audience immediately understands who the bad guys are. Yet, the juggling still works, because the film is packed with excellent fight choreography, exciting car chases down narrow European streets, and desperate shoot-outs in dank apartment buildings. The overall story is ultimately pointless – the film never really makes us care if Bourne finds out who he is, that's just a MacGuffin – but it provides a sturdy framework to hang an interesting action film on.

"I think I can see my house from here!"

The bad guys don't fare that well here, however. Chris Cooper's range involves two settings: yelling quietly at his fellow C.I.A. analysts, or yelling loudly at his fellow C.I.A. analysts. Clive Owen is the only enemy assassin that's allowed to have even a bit of personality, and while he's up there you just hope someone's smart enough to make him the next James Bond. Curiously, Julia Stiles plays a C.I.A. communications expert in a role that just screams "paycheck"-- there's no real reason for her role. Especially since Stiles, when her head isn't looking like that of baby Stewie's from Fox's "Family Guy," looks like she could be Frank Potente's sister. It's simply an awkward (and distracting) casting choice.

In conclusion, the film is simply well-made entertainment. There's nothing original there, but in a summer filled with your typical sequel-fare, The Bourne Identity stands out as a classy, fun film, and I give it four popcorns.

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Things to watch out for: How Clive Owen drives a BMW (Owen recently starred in one of a classic series of slickly-produced, web exclusive mini-movie commercials for BMW); how the opening sequence of the movie pays homage to the opening of the 1998 John Frankenheimer film Ronin. Both involve people pulling spent bullets out of the backs of our (anti)heroes.

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