'Til The Cows Come Home

Bourne Again

My secretary is obsessed with Matt Damon. So much so that when The Bourne Identity came out on DVD last year, she purchased it on the day of release. And she doesn't own a DVD player.

"I just had to have it because he looks so good on the cover," she explained at the time. Fair enough. Lord knows I've bought porn for the same exact reason.

Every day last week, she squealed with delight over the fact that the sequel was about to open. When I let slip that I hadn't seen the original, nor was I really in a rush to see it, she stared at me long and hard, then rose from her chair, poked her finger into my chest and said, "Child, you ain't right in the head." Well, again, fair enough.

The next morning when I arrived at the office, I found the DVD of The Bourne Identity waiting for me on my desk. The cover of the DVD case was all but falling off, leading me to wonder what exactly she'd been doing with it if she didn't actually have a DVD player. Then I decided that I didn't necessarily want to know.

I watched the film on Saturday morning. I thought it would be good background material while I folded laundry and cleaned up the apartment. Instead, I ended up getting drawn into the movie. It was suspenseful, intelligent and well-written. I loved Franka Potente (after loving her in Run Lola Run). And Matt Damon impressed me. It didn't hurt that he's easy on the eyes, either.

I was instantly craving the sequel. Lucky for me, I got a call from friends a few hours later, asking if I wanted to go see The Bourne Supremacy. By the time the final twenty minutes rolled around, my jaw was hanging open in amazement. And not just because I wanted to run my lips all over the swarthy Russian bad guy. Good stuff.

After spending most of the day with Matt Damon as Jason Bourne, I was still craving more. At least I'll have a support group in the form of my secretary, and we can pray together that a third installment won't be too far down the road.