I only own, like, one pair of jeans. Levi’s 511s. Don’t worry, I wash them weekly. Okay, maybe once every two weeks, but more often in the summer when they’re likely to get sweaty. I don’t know about you, but I’ve tried buying backup pairs of jeans to these ur-jeans, but I end up not wearing them, because the ones I always wear are the comfiest. You’d think I’d just buy multiple pairs of the same jeans, but see: how do I know I like them until I’ve worn them for awhile? If I don’t like them, and I’ve bought three pairs, that’s three pairs never to be worn again. And by the time I find I like a pair, the time has passed to buy multiples, because the first pair have become my favorite pair.
And here it is: The Bourne Ultimatum is like a favorite pair of jeans. Comfortable, lived-in, a little sweaty, nothing unexpected and unlikely to be a cause for undue recognition/adoration, unless you’re writing a blog entry seemingly about jeans or you’re the nerds on IMDb.com who have, as of last check, voted the film the 66th best of all time. Ultimatum isn’t that; it’s more of the same: manic cutting of scenes of hand-to-hand contact and car chases, grim bureaucrats tracking Bourne and an even grimmer Bourne tracking the bureaucrats while trying to find his raisons d’ être and/or true identity. Popcorny summer fun!