Film review: The Bourne Legacy

THE BOURNE LEGACY (12A)

Directed by: Tony Gilroy

Starring: Jeremy Renner, Rachel Weisz, Edward Norton, Stacey Keach

Star rating: *

IF IT ain’t broke, don’t fix it” is a lesson Tony Gilroy (Michael Clayton) wilfully ignores as he takes on directing duties for this redundant expansion of the Bourne franchise. That’s perhaps not too much of a surprise, though. Having co-written the first three films only to publicly denounce directors Doug Liman (The Bourne Identity) and Paul Greengrass (Supremacy/Ultimatum) for wrecking his carefully constructed scripts with their amped-up, on-the-fly shooting style (“A crime against the gods of storytelling,” was his assessment of Greengrass’s critically adored verité take on the series in a lengthy 2009 New Yorker profile), the clearly aggrieved screenwriter-turned-director sets about righting perceived wrongs with a film that is breathtaking only in its stupidity.

With original star Matt Damon bailing on the series after Greengrass jumped ship, Gilroy tenuously rationalises his film’s title by weaving this Jason Bourne-free adventure into the timeline of The Bourne Ultimatum. Unfortunately, after cheekily revisiting that film’s heart-in-mouth Waterloo Station set-piece to provide some continuity, he persistently jabs at its credibility, even luring back David Strathairn, Joan Allen and Albert Finney for brief cameos that deliberately undermine and ruin the original trilogy’s neatly tied-off ending.

Long before it reaches that dispiriting point, however, Gilroy sets about tainting fond memories of the series by introducing us to The Bourne Legacy’s hero as he floats face down in ice-cold water. This is Aaron Cross (Jeremy Renner), a Jason Bourne-style super-spy who, befitting the Jurassic Park-esque, “there was never just one” sequel justification, has been genetically engineered to have even faster reflexes, increased endurance, higher intelligence and more rapid recovery powers (there’s no amnesia for this kid).

He’s one of several agents to have come out of a US Defense Department covert training programme known as Outcome, an upgrade of the CIA’s Treadstone op that spawned Bourne, but whose own plot significance is buried under lots of impenetrable medical-related tech talk – perhaps to disguise the fact that parts of it feel like they’ve been filched from shoddy B-movies like Universal Soldier and various Marvel comic book character arcs (Wolverine and the Incredible Hulk spring immediately to mind). That said, there really is no disguising Gilroy’s shark-jumping narrative impulses, especially after he chooses to conclude the film’s first big set piece by having Cross wrestle a wolf in the snow, deposit a tracking device down its gullet, and run away while it leads a programmed-to-strike drone off his trail. Playing like an unintentional homage to Roger Moore-era Bond, all that’s missing is an arched eyebrow from Renner.

Which isn’t to say Renner doesn’t veer perilously close to that kind of cheesiness. Much like his character in the similarly rubbish Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol, there’s a slightly uncomfortable goofiness to Renner’s performance, as if he can’t quite decide how seriously he’s supposed to take all this. More character actor than leading man, The Hurt Locker star really doesn’t have the chops for headlining franchises (he was the most forgettable member of Avengers Assemble too). It’s not all his fault, of course. Denied the kind of meaty existential dilemma Damon had as Bourne, there’s really nothing for him to sink his teeth into here.

Instead, Cross has to traverse the globe on the hunt for the “chems” that will stabilise his altered physiology while Edward Norton, cast as the Defense Department’s ruthlessly pragmatic clandestine operations chief, orders the termination of all covert ops after Jason Bourne’s off-screen Ultimatum antics threaten to shine a public spotlight on them. As character motivation goes, this just isn’t very engaging, but its execution is even more depressing thanks to the way it betrays an action series that once prided itself on showing the moral consequences of its hero’s actions. Where Bourne was wracked with guilt at the terrible things he’d been made to do, Cross’s government-induced internal time-bomb, together with his junkie-like need for medication, means he’s not especially concerned with whose neck he’s snapping. It’s an odd development, particularly as it takes the film even further away from the series that Gilroy has always maintained he originally envisioned.

Then again, perhaps after making the earnest Michael Clayton and the underpowered conman caper Duplicity, he’s simply developed a taste for the kind of hi-octane action thrills that he slammed Greengrass for delivering. If so, it’s ironic that he tries so hard to mimic Greengrass’s kinetic style, even more so because he clearly doesn’t have the former documentary maker’s ability to think on his feet, nor his flair for defining character through relentless action. Consequently, whenever Gilroy needs to introduce new players into the mix, he either grinds the film to a halt with dull exposition (as he does when introducing Rachel Weisz’s following-orders biologist, Dr Marta Shearing) or by deploying a deus ex machina, like the super-duper Terminator-style “Asset” that Norton’s character suddenly unleashes during the film’s rubbish, Manila-set climax.

Like its namesake’s murky past, The Bourne Legacy is an enterprise that is probably best forgotten.