The train ride toward the dusken city induced a feeling of drowsiness. A feeling reserved for the travel to, from and at uni. Nevertheless, as the moment of sleep made its appearance it did not go wasted. Seconds later the train arrived at its destination. The people with jobs were on their stampede home, looking all the more focussed and determined not to fall asleep on the station platform but to find comfort in the drool pooling on the person next to them. The exclusive call left details to the location of the preview screening.
Either the street numbering had nothing on logic or the logic of the street numbers bore no sense as the building marked 238 was directly across that of 208. From the general feeling the security guard at the door was not all that bright. He had no idea on what exactly was taking place six levels up and argued with Jimmy about it. Not only that but his post was on a small set of stairs that he clambered up and down from as the other viewers made it to the building.
A good half hour was spent outside waiting for what now seems a reason unknown. As such everyone else was in the process of getting slightly inebriated and the whole air of the room was soaked in the lightness of Heinekens. The crowd breathed with the student press from various universities around the state. After only one minute on the floor and the door to the screening opened. There is nothing better than impeccable tardiness and immaculate timing when out with strangers. The red seats in the theatrette were a plush delight; barely a few metres away and the holey screen stared blankly at the seated.
To the left of the screen was what might have been excellent restroom facilities as it prompted a number to make use of it during the movie. Although the movie would not hit general release for some weeks yet it was already showing slight wear. Matt Damon is a sexy man. There was no television ad that people somehow think funnier when played in the cinemas, just a trailer for K19 - The Widow Maker.
The Bourne Identity
The movie starts off lost at sea with a body floating in the water. It could have been an informant, but isn't. The mysteriously handsome creature is rescued and taken in by a ship that might have been out there for fish, too stormy to think so. A bullet provides the man with a start to his personal mission of discovery. Amnesia seems to affect all self-knowledge yet leaves intact the ability to speak fluently in a foreign language and the combat skills of a well-honed fighter.
While Jason Bourne is busy getting looks from other men in Switzerland the movie cuts to the States and introduces a timer in the form of Julia Stiles. Her regular subservient appearances are but to reiterate her uselessness. The Bourne Identity is a stunning movie, a gripping and engaging action thriller. Not a comedy. There are two questionably credible scenes throughout the movie and yet the audience suggested that either there might have been more or that they were more affected by the alcohol than one could first smell on them. There is no gratuity in the movie, and this makes it that whole much better. There is nothing worse than having to endure the choreography of a scene painstakingly grafted on to make up the minutes between the hours.
Franka Portente stars alongside Damon as Marie, someone who manages to alter her accent on a frequent basis, well suited in a film about identity. The movie features what has to be the best car chase sequence in a long time. And it's in a Mini. Further echoing the fact that this film is all substance over style.
The front row had no more than four people, one of which started the laughter at one of the final scenes at the end. Nothing is as cold as the vicious laughter spawned from the death of another.
Seats away sat a man who had brought along his own food for the fare. Little then can be said of the student press as soon as the credits started their roll on the screen. Even before the lights were turned on a couple had already made the dash for anywhere but there.
Lines before the credits had finished their parade the projectionist turned off his light. The look cast back was not pleasant at all. The security guard was gone and so were the ingrates. No one was left except for Jimmy, Brooke and I. It would have been wrong to just bolt, as it was a great film, so thanks were given and drinks taken after a lost wander around the late city streets of a Tuesday. It finished a great night with a vessel of blood losing its load on the right temple.
PJ OBrien's
After the advance private screening of 'The Bourne Identity,' the city exerted its magnetism and gravity and somehow managed to move Jimmy, a funky chick known as Brooke and I around the late Tuesday night streets of the city.
We ended up in the dropped base of a pub - which doesn't exist in the directory - called PJ OBrien's. A possible alternative was that of CBD but the milling of suits like bats in a tree looked too stifled.
From the moment I stepped in through the doors my entire head started to pound and reverberate. The breathing skull effect was due to a combination of extremely loud music, cigarette smoke and dull lighting. Their power set up must have been faulty as the loudness of the music seemed to correlate closely to the weak wattage of the lamps and bulbs.
A suit dropped his glass and no one shouted out the jerk reactive "Taxi!" Seems people have learnt what constitutes as funny and what needs an entire room to be effective. For minutes the spill on the floor seeped, not enough hustling from the staff.
Susceptibility was on high as I think I detected an explosion of a vessel in my right temple. Shouting over the loud music didn't help stopped the throbbing. Must have spent an hour in the pub before deciding it was late enough to try and head home. As the air outside was both quieter and relatively cleaner than inside I started to get a headache from the rush in a change of atmosphere.
Although I didn't taste any alcohol I don't even remember the night. Can't recall what the hell happened.
Reviewed on Wednesday, 4 September 2002