rated PG-13

Constantly on the run, alone and underground, beset by highly trained assassins and doggedly pursued by teams of nefarious government shadow organizations, Jason Bourne’s life is no vacation. But he sure does get around. In just the first 10 minutes of “Bourne Ultimatum,” the third installment of the Bourne trilogy based on the best-selling novels by Robert Ludlam, the audience sees New York City; Langley, Va.; London; Turin; Moscow; Madrid and then some. He never seems to have time to see the sights, though, spending most of his considerable energy nimbly eluding ubiquitous surveillance in train stations and airport terminals, or dodging a never-ending parade of police, mercenaries and hit men.

When he’s not indoors, he’s generally at work hurtling across rooftops or pinching all manner of vehicles from innocent bystanders. He causes remarkable chaos and collateral damage in his ceaseless quest to avenge the murder of his lover, recover his lost memory and reconcile his guilt over his own apparently vicious history.

Although Bourne’s emotional journey is certainly at the heart of the adventure, the filmmakers never forget that they invited us here mostly to see some world-class kick-ass. Maintaining a consistently rapid pace, they offer generous doses of the ol’ ultra-violence along the trip. Delivered with a gritty, bone-crunching realism, the combat has a disturbingly intimate, real-world brutality. Bourne is plainly a career bruiser, a soldier of the highest order. He is fast, cool and ruthless when cornered, and when you see him snap an opponent’s elbow, or summarily chuck several armed cops down a stairwell, you really pity the poor guys and fear for their wellbeing.

Bourne’s improvisational fighting style takes some brilliant forms as he makes weapons out of whatever mundane object might be lying in close proximity. Towels, pipes, doors and lamps are all fair game. For a character of literary derivation, there’s a particular subtlety to the escalation of literary items he uses to put his enemies down. In “Bourne Identity,” he killed a guy with a pen. In “Bourne Supremacy,” he blew up an opponent’s house with a magazine (you have to see it to understand). And here, he finally gets back to his roots by pummeling a foe’s head in with a book. Ludlam would be proud.

The motor chases, filmed in tight traffic in crowded streets of cities all over the world—usually with practical, rubber and steel vehicles—are captured with a scary, claustrophobic urgency. Anyone who’s ever been randomly T-boned at an intersection will be immediately familiar with Bourne’s driving style. We see the abject demolition left in his wake as though through the wide eyes of passing drivers. One gets the impression that much of the action was filmed on location with little to no background casting. The gaping distress of pedestrians and passersby appears completely honest and conveys a marvelous emotional depth to the considerably destructive proceedings.

If you haven’t seen the previous installments of this series, don’t start with this one. Unlike most contemporary trilogies, these films were all made by the same creative team and share a refreshing uniformity of vision. They describe a specific arc from beginning to end, dovetailing the protagonist’s experiences neatly together into a satisfyingly cohesive journey. Echoing elements of action, theme, casting, dialogue, sets and music resonate through all three films to create, for what could otherwise have become just another empty action franchise, a smart and sophisticated through-line.

Trilogy star Matt Damon has been spreading rumors that this may be the last stop for Jason Bourne, although Hollywood bean-counters would certainly disagree. Whether this one spells the end of the line or not, it sure has been a hell of a trip.