That moron Jack Reacher has nothing on this guy. Yes, it’s been a while since Jason Bourne has captivated us, so perhaps it’s easy for slightly younger millennials to remember, but the Bourne films had it all. In this rampant Politically Correct society, we’ve become obsessed with not ruffling feathers and doing our best to worship at the false altar of inclusion and equality. The world has changed since the glory days of the Bourne films. Fittingly, audiences may finally understand Jason Bourne’s default setting: confused and betrayed. With all due respect, this film should have been titled Jason Bourne: How Alicia Vikander Saved My Stupid Idiot Life a Bunch of Times. The rugged brawniness of Matt Damon’s ripped body is just another false flag, perhaps the cruelest one of all. This isn’t the Jason Bourne we grew up with in the early-to-mid 2000s. The Social Justice Warriors, their feminist/misandrist commissars and Tumblr Martyrs Brigade have outflanked us yet again, and this time they’ve managed to choke the life out of one of our most iconic heroes. But, it was with a heavy heart that I stomped out of the theater shaking my head in utter disbelief. This franchise has given me literally hours of pleasure, even the regrettable installment that starred Hawkeye for some reason. I walked into the theater determined to have a great time, to find myself caught up once more in the franchise that has always held a special place in my heart, dating back to when I first saw The Bourne Identity, when I was a child of 18, or maybe 19.
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