A Movie Review Hunter, Sven, and I, do not always agree. You see, I am not a big fan of car chase scenes. Sven isn't thrilled with romance. And Hunter doesn't like movies. I don't care for exploding buildings. Sven isn't thrilled with drama. And Hunter doesn't like movies. I am annoyed by martial arts. Sven won't watch stupid. And Hunter doesn't give a shit. So. It's a puzzle that we can find anything to sit down and watch together. Especially since Hunter rarely sits down. He never watches TV. And we live in a black hole, where the movie selection is slim. On the bright side, we are rarely overwhelmed with a bunch of new releases. Take last week for instance. I was in the kitchen chopping an onion. Hunter was lying underfoot, keeping a close eye on the situation when Sven said, "How about Jason Bourne?" "Sounds good to me," I said. And Hunter barked. Because Hunter always barks. It didn't matter that we'd all seen the movie several times. We've all seen all of the Jason Bourne movies, several times. And even though we never really know what is going on, we have all three experienced moments of clarity. Like when you wake up and vividly remember your dream. And then just as you try to explain it to your sweet Sven, your dog starts barking, because he always barks. So you have to wait. And during those few seconds you begin to lose sight of it. You suddenly aren't sure why you were going up that flight of stairs. Or how those stairs even got there. And who all those people were. Because you were at the little house on the corner that you grew up in. But that little house on the corner didn't have an upstairs. And this one didn't have a willow tree. And it wasn't the right color. And then just as you are saying, "Well, I was in my old house, but it wasn't really my old house," poof. You don't have the slightest clue about the life that you were just starring in. I added the onions to the enchiladas and topped them with cheese. I placed the pan in the oven. Poured a glass of wine. And joined Sven and Bob Barker in the living room. It was show time. But, Hunter was opposed to the idea. So, Sven and I took turns playing some rousing matches of tug-o-war in front of the screen. And Hunter downed a Dingo Dyno-stick, while Jason Bourne blended into crowds, ducked in and out of crowded streets, jumped off rooftops and buildings exploded to the tune of whatever those horns are that never made it to the symphony, otherwise known as European sirens. Cars crashed on the right. Cars flipped over on the left. And Jason Bourne was on the run. Hunter went out to the porch to guard his domain, which we appreciated on many levels. I sat down. "Who is chasing him now?" I said. "That guy," says Sven. "And that guy. And that woman. And the police. And the F.B.I. and the C.I.A. And those snipers up there." "Jeez." "Yeah." "Why?" "I think it has something to do with whatever they erased from his memory in The Bourne Identity. I wish they would show that one again. I think we knew what was going on in the first one." There was a bark at the door. Hoots and toots was back inside. And the next thing I know, all three of us were riding on the back of a motorcycle. I was hanging onto Jason Bourne's neck and we were racing toward a flight of concrete stairs that looked like they went a long, long, way down. Bullets were flying over our heads. Oh jeez. Hold on a minute. My sister is on the phone. "Yeah, I know I don't like exploding buildings and car chase scenes, but," My sister doesn't seem to understand. "Louisa, Jason Bourne is played by Matt Damon." So. Anyway, Sven and I give the Bourne movies two thumbs up. Hunter has no thumbs. And he doesn't give a shit.