One of the great things about the Bourne films was the way theyd routinely sidestep and pivot around your average cliches, bringing a more muscular, sinewy, downcast sensibility to action flicks which were still wading through a good thirteen years later. A great example of this is the suitably low-key ending: after he's got bored of punching all sorts of bad idiots and sorted out the mystery of who he is and what exactly he's meant to be doing with himself, Bourne tracks down his lady-love to the Greek island of Mykonos, where shes renting out scooters to stag parties from Watford and trying to suppress the urge to punt them into the Ionian Sea. Then Bourne turns up, they have a bit of a cuddle, and thats it. If you watch the full, uncut version, though you get rather a different impression. Bourne and Marie really go to town, ramping up from a clinch to a snog and on to some light frottage by the time the camera starts to pan out. Its more like something from One Tree Hill than the most influential thriller of the last twenty years.
