In theaters.
When I was about 12, I watched the old Robert Redford movie Three Days of the Condor with my mom, but I couldn’t get past the premise: CIA assassins targeting one of the agency’s own researchers, who Knows More Than He Should, even if he doesn’t know that he knows. This was so silly, so unrealistic, I complained. Nodding thoughtfully, Mom explained that the movie came out in the 1970s, soon after Watergate. People were paranoid then and angry. Murderous, far-reaching conspiracies just didn’t seem that far-fetched. But I just rolled my eyes. Stupid movie.
Watching The Bourne Ultimatum this past weekend, I felt Mom’s explanation come rushing back to me. In this new movie, a black-ops arm of the CIA merrily stomps on the Constitution with complete impunity (and not a little incompetence). The agents eavesdrop indiscriminately, employ torture, and assassinate private citizens in public areas, and none of it struck me as particularly silly or unrealistic. It’s a great thriller—taut and compelling—but it made me long for the days when I could roll my eyes at such paranoid, cynical plotlines.
Much Review About Nothing 