One is the suave servant of Her Majesty’s government. The other is a brute assassin, the rogue employee of a now defunct agency of the FBI.
One prances around in a bespoke dinner suit, custom underwear by Sunspel and La Perla swimming togs. The other wears a holey sludge-coloured fisherman’s sweater and the kind of schlumpy outerwear seen on teenage French exchange students. One has an arsenal of turbocharged vehicles and technical gizmos at his disposal, the kind of gadgets that can fire laser beams or emit piercing loud noises when needs arise. The other is really good at reading maps.
Only one of these men is even remotely stylish. And it isn’t the one driving an Aston Martin. An anti-hero hero for a modern age, Jason Bourne leaves James Bond in the shade.