Imagine waking up in an unfamiliar place, unable to recall where you live, what you're doing there, or even your own name. Now imagine for the first time in your life it wasn't a direct result of your downing eleven pints of Guinness and then agreeing to do a Lemon Drop shooter with Jimmy T., Spleef, and Hondo the night before at Durty Nelly's.
Now imagine that you began to discover you had mysterious talents -- talents that didn't involve the ability to stand next to the open refrigerator door in your underpants and drink a half gallon of Minute Maid Pulp Free directly from the pitcher without stopping for air. Now imagine you are Matt Damon.
Why, the mere thought of it is to stare into a bottomless well of agony. Yet Matt Damon awakes to that fresh horror every morning of his life (the horror of discovering that he remains Matt Damon, not all that stuff about his memory.
That happens to his character in that one movie – what's it called? – The Bourne Identity. My memory's not so good.) Anyway, the point is that Bourne Identity is a pulse-pounding thriller that goes from the exotic…um, somethings of somewhere to the even more exotic – look, it's tough to recall all the little things, I'm just a little fuzzy today.
Suffice it to say that Bourne Identity makes for a terrific RiffTrax – and the fact that Mike is joined by Kevin Murphy and Bill Corbett, well, that's just -- what do you call it, that brown runny stuff – gravy!
