Spy movies are my favourite genre - and the Bourne Trilogy made me realise it

Spy movies have given me more pleasure than films from any other genre. (They are my cinematic equivalent of Rockabilly – probably not a great recommendation in most people’s eyes.)

I realised this sometime between 11pm and midnight two nights ago, while I was watchingThe Bourne Ultimatum for about the 83rd time. Not the whole film, you understand, just a big chunk of it – every time I see the word “Bourne” on the Sky EPG, I cannot prevent myself from tuning in (and only back out swiftly if it turns out to be the pallid 1988 mini-series starring Richard Chamberlain). I don’t really have a favourite - the Identity or theSupremacy will do just as well - I’m never quite sure which is which anyway.

Just look at what the spy genre has produced: The 39 Steps, The Lady Vanishes, North by North West, The Mask of Dimitrios, Pick Up on South Street, From Russia With Love, Three Days of the Condor, No Way Out, Marathon Man, Day of the Jackal, Spy Game, Taken, Enemy of the State, The Lives of Others, The Manchurian Candidate, the Mission Impossibletrilogy (oh, go on – you know you enjoyed them!), True Lies (likewise),Casino Royale (the Daniel Craig one, obviously), The Quiller Memorandum, The Deadly Affair… and that’s not even including any WWII films or pretending I’m a fan of the Ipcress films or Notorious or The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, none of which hit the spot for me.

And it doesn’t even include possibly the greatest of all television drama series, Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, which was so utterly wonderful it almost makes me weepy with gratitude just thinking about it.

Now, these aren’t all equally great films, but there’s not one of them I wouldn’t happily sit down and watch anywhere, any time, whatever my mood.

And I know it sound like cheating, but some of my favourite films from other genres have all the hallmarks of the spy genre: paranoia, double-bluffs, subterfuge, masquerading as someone or something you’re not, deception, fear of detection – Invasion of the Bodysnatchers, All the President’s Men and the BBC drama series, State of Play immediately spring to mind.

But it took The Bourne Trilogy (soon to be a quartet) to make me realise it, because, through repeated viewings of all three films, I have come to realise that they’re practically perfect in every respect. The Bourne films aren’t art; they tell us nothing we didn’t already know about the human condition. Jason Bourne doesn’t grow or develop as a character in any respect (he gets to know more about his past - that’s all). These films are pure craft, brilliantly constructed high-speed machines designed to allow us to forget everything that ails us for two hours by holding us utterly in thrall – the cinematic equivalent of a Bugatti Veyron: faster, sleeker and more brilliantly designed than any competitor.

So, why do they work so well?

Matt Damon is the ideal Jason Bourne (aka David Webb – which no doubt came as a surprise to 1970s Chelsea FC fans) – he’s a cipher: medium build; not ridiculously good-looking; not an overpoweringly good – or bad – actor; his character isn’t a superman – though in great shape and superbly trained; he’s the right age – young enough to be resilient, but not a callow teen idol; and he neither over or under-emotes – he reacts just enough to be believable, without twinkling charmingly or being impossibly emotionless. We chaps don’t really like or dislike him – we just admire hisdecisiveness: like a machine, he reacts instantly, but he doesn’t always get it right. 

The tone of the film remains constant: there is absolutely no humour. I’m not against the odd laugh, you understand - but Bourne isn’t a chucklesome sort of chap.

There are no fascinating, quirky characters for us to be tickled by or to provide our hero with unlikely allies: there are ordinary people and professional spies, period.

Apart from the occasional kindness of strangers (and there’s very little of that), he is entirely self-reliant: his training and his ability to react instantly are what keep him alive. 

The baddies don’t stroke white cats or have plans for world domination or suddenly step out of character to reveal themselves as rabid, carpet-chewing psychopaths (although Albert Finney comes close). They’re professional spies who thought they were doing the right thing, but didn’t know when to stop. 

The films are almost entirely free of sentimentality – we’re not asked to switch suddenly from Sarsons to Tate & Lyle. 

There is no overtly political message here: yes, elements of the CIA were operating a rogue policy, but the most senior CIA official in the film is happy to expose the conspiracy (she ultimately takes Bourne’s side). There’s no Hollywood liberal “isn’t America wicked” message here.

The love interest in the film isn’t impossibly beautiful (albeit very attractive - well, you’d hardly choose an outright minger!) or instantly smitten by the hero, or winningly kookie: brilliantly played by the German actress Franka Potente (Run, Lola, Run), she behaves as any sensible person would, so we don’t have to waste time wishing she’d shut up and cop a bullet any earlier than she absolutely has to.

The settings – London, Paris, Moscow, New York – are made to appear fresh and interesting without being over-glamourised or falsified: there are no accordions or balalaikas or beefeaters and the action takes place in convincingly real settings.

The pace of the films is breath-taking, but the scripts are so good, the acting so spot-on and the editing so expert that they never feel rushed or cartoonish. Quantum of Solace tried to emulate the relentless speed of the Bourne franchise – and came a cropper as a result. (A good example of a post-Bourne spy movie that copied its pedal-to-the-metal approach - and succeeded - is the excellent Taken, in which ex-CIA agent Liam Neeson tears Paris apart in a bid to save his kidnapped daughter from the clutches of billionaire Arab sex perverts.)

The Bourne fight scenes (especially the one where he has to defend himself with a magazine) and the car chases are the best I’ve ever seen. (The music’s good too.)

I won’t whine about the failure of Academy voters to festoon the first two Bourne movies with Oscars – but will admit to being slightly bemused by the fact that they failed to pick up a single nomination! The third film in the series, The Bourne Ultimatum, won for Best Film Editing, Best Sound and Best Sound Editing: it’s fitting that the only three awards to date should be craft awards.

The Bourne Legacy – the next in the series – is due for release in July 2012, and I will happily overcome my aversion to cinemas to go and see it. Can’t wait.

Funnily enough, I’ve always found the novels of Robert Ludlum – who created Bourne – unreadable. No idea why.