It is a well-known law of movie physics: when bullets are flying, the protagonist will not get hit. In “”Shooter,”” Bob Lee Swagger (Mark Wahlberg) manages to dodge torrents of rounds aimed directly at him – yeah, he’s that good.

After a traumatizing defeat on the battlefield, Swagger becomes a hairy forest-dwelling recluse a la Grizzly Adams – albeit with a much feebler facial hair patch – who has cleverly trained his dog to fetch him bottles of beer. (At this, the promo screening audience felt the need to cheer.) But because of his impressive reputation as a master marksman, Swagger is recruited to foil the plot of an assassin who plans to attack the president. He reluctantly agrees – only because Danny Glover plays the patriotism card – but soon discovers that he’s been framed.

“”Shooter”” has a “”Bourne Identity”” feel, but less European and with a lot more guns. It is a rare moment when some sort of artillery does not have a central role in the scene – even delicate Kate Mara manages to blow a guy up in a way that slightly resembled what happened to my oatmeal in the microwave this morning.

There are lots of guns in this movie, but no sex pistol. Alas, gone are the days when Marky Mark sported a bulge in his Calvins and showed us some “”Boogie Nights”” schlong. Director Antoine Fuqua makes do with the slow motion tracking shot, apparently still enough to make the audience cheer – again. Cheap crowd.