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In Green Zone, set in 2003, Matt Damon plays Chief Warrant Officer Miller, an American soldier who goes to Iraq to make the world safe for democracy, then starts wondering out loud why they cannot find the weapons of mass destruction that were used to justify the war. Every site they inspect turns out to be WMD-free; how could their supposedly reliable intelligence be so wrong?

Two men hear him: veteran CIA man Martin Brown (Brendan Gleeson), and slick Pentagon bureaucrat Clark Poundstone (Greg Kinnear). Brown believes terrible mistakes are being made, Poundstone insists everything is going well. Then there’s the Wall Street Journal reporter played by Amy Ryan, whose eagerness has been exploited by American politicians to make the case for war; and Khalid Abdalla as Freddie, a former Iraqi soldier who wants to help the Americans and gets a mouthful of sand for his trouble.

It’s anarchy and chaos in “free” Iraq, and director Paul Greengrass (the last two Bourne movies) won’t let us forget. Imagine being in a huge traffic jam on Edsa at 1pm on a sizzling day with your airconditioner dead and everyone on the street yelling and going Jason Ivler on each other. That’s the setting of Green Zone: a situation so screwed up you can’t tell the bad guys from the worse guys, or even hear yourself think. Greengrass is a fine action director, the chase scene is his metier, and much of Green Zone is taut and thrilling even if we know how that situation turned out.

Matt Damon really is the most reliable big star working today: he can play smart, stupid, fat, fit, nerd, jock, loser, hotshot, and he doesn’t even have to say much. (Fabia tells me American audiences are staying away from the Green Zone. Iraq movies never rake it in, no? Head in the sand?)

Green Zone is a movie that makes me want to court-martial Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld and their gang for leading their country and the world on a wild goat chase.

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Speaking of action directors, it has been noted that Kathryn Bigelow won the Oscar for Best Director because she made the kind of movie male directors would do, while Nancy Meyers and Nora Ephron are overlooked for their work because they make chick flicks. That’s a good point, but the simple reason is that The Hurt Locker is just better than anything Meyers and Ephron have ever done. It’s Jane Campion and Penny Marshall who have reason to gripe. Also, I don’t buy the assumption that female viewers don’t enjoy mayhem and violence at the movies. Not only are combat movies fun but you get to grab your date in feigned surprise.