Film noir was dead once too, in the 60s and 70s,except for anomalies like Chinatown. Then a pair of brothers released a picture called Blood Simple, and the floodgates opened. Nearly 20 years later, film noir is thriving. Last year1s Mulholland Drive proved how elastic the genre is, and its popularity demonstrates the openness of the audience for adventurous film noir fare.

At the moment, the spy thriller feels moribund at best. First the Cold War ended. Then political correctness made it hard to demonize someone or some group just for dramatic purposes. Over the summer, many of these films are on their way, but a further sign that the genre lacks any real urgency is the fact that the parody of this genre, the next Austin Powers installment, Goldmember, will probably do better than any of the sincere spy flicks rolling out.

Now that we have new enemies, the relevance and vitality of this genre may return. But this summer the vocabulary to do much more than make people squirm in their seats because events on screen awkwardly somehow suggest September 11th isn’t in place yet.

And it isn’t just the changing landscape of “the enemy.” The intelligence community isn’t the stuff of adventure pictures at the moment. The FBI seems like it is populated by too many petty, territorial, e-mail ignoring desk jockeys. The CIA doesn’t have people who can translate the intelligence they intercept, rendering its collection practically useless.

I don’t find myself excited to rush off to the theaters to keep up with all the boys coming out with the spy movies this summer. I have skipped The Sum of All Fears so far, though I’ll probably see it. I’m no Ben Affleck fan. Give me Alec or Harrison as Jack Ryan. When there is a choice between the buddies Ben A. and Matt D, I don’t need to flip a coin. I’m in the Matt Damon camp. He is excellent, but he’s not really what drew me to the theater.

What really made The Bourne Identity worth the trip to the theater wasn’t the star in front of the camera, but the star behind the camera. Doug Liman has made two films, Swingers, and Go, neither of them Hollywood big budget genre pictures. Liman’s films are fun — something Hollywood spy flicks rarely are — and combine sharp, small observations and fresh visual style. To see Liman take a swing at something so unlike what he’s done before provided the motivation.

Style is a very important element in the spy flick biz, since the conventions of the genre are so well worn. We expect implausible plot twists, gaps in logic, superhuman physical feats thanks to new computer graphic technology and blistering special effects. This is so much the case that any reviewer who dumps on a spy thriller because it is “implausible” or “confusing” is ducking the task.

The Bourne Identity succeeds through a combination of fresh styling, a modest but compelling plot, excellent performances and some modifications of the genre’s conventions which keep the film from aspiring to signify more than it can.

Jason Bourne (Damon) is picked out of the stormy Mediterranean by some French fisherman. He has two bullets in his back and a small device in his hip. He survives the bullets but can’t remember a thing about himself. The hip implant contains the number of a Swiss bank account, so once he is set on shore he heads straight for Zurich. Though he has no papers and no idea who he is, his hand print matches the security check at the bank. Before you can say Special Agent for the Central Intelligence Agency, the young amnesiac has a duffel bag full of cash and passports for several identities.

What we know that he doesn’t know is that he is a CIA agent who has goofed in his attempt to assassinate an African politician who is threatening to tell all about CIA involvement in his country and all of Africa unless he is put back in power. The head of this special ops group, Ted Conklin, played by the casually dead serious Chris Cooper, bellows, “I want Bourne in a body bag by sundown,” and the chase is on.

Though Jason can’t recall a single personal detail, he retains all the benefits of his training. He has a preternatural sense of the bad guys closing in on him. He speaks French and German. He has some serious martial arts moves.

For $20,000 he hires Marie to drive him from Zurich to the Paris address of one of the passports. Franka Potente sporting a trace of the red hair that helped make her so memorable in Run Lola Run hangs on to other elements of Lola’s appeal to make Marie believable when she chooses to stay with Jason beyond the terms of the deal. But the romance between them isn’t overhyped.

Every role is filled by actors so appealing and accomplished their mere presence lends something extra to The Bourne Identity. Clive Owen plays another agent who comes after Jason. The showdown between these two in a country house and its surrounding fields is a glorious set piece. Julia Styles plays a young agent kept in a “safe house” full of gadgets feeding information to and from Langley. It’s a nice twist to see a golden girl chained to a desk instead of damsel in distressing out in the field. Brian Cox is wonderful as the bureaucratic boss of the entire operation. His report to Congress at the end is chillingly matter of fact.

The Bourne Identity never gives us a scene where Jason regains his memory and reflects on how he came to be part of the CIA, but by focusing the film on his story (from Robert Ludlum’s novel), larger political concerns, which are so confusing right now, don’t muddy the waters. Perhaps there will be a sequel to fill in those blanks, but in the meantime, The Bourne Identity provides the requisite thrills and chills, including an old-fashioned car chase that gets the adrenaline pumping.

Copyright 2002 Ad Media Inc.