What is the first thing you’d do if you found out you had super powers? Save someone? No, you’d probably try something selfish first, just because you could. You’d likely say you’ll use the powers for good after that initial all-for-me trial run, but there’s a good chance you’ll get greedy instead. After all, you’re only human — you’re just more powerful than the rest of the race.

This is exactly what happens to David Rice (played by Max Thieriot then Hayden Christensen), a kid who discovers he can teleport, or jump, anywhere he’s been before. Yes, he’s kind of like the X-Men character Nightcrawler, someone David is likely familiar with since he references Marvel comics and therefore has a good self-awareness of the fantastical sort of life he’s a part of, or ought to be a part of. But unlike Spider-Man, another exemplary Marvel character, he doesn’t believe in the whole “with great power comes great responsibility” crap. Although the first time he robs a bank he tells himself he’ll pay it back one day, he eventually stops kidding himself. He doesn’t even contemplate using the money to help the needy. He’s no Robin Hood or Longfellow Deeds. He’s just your average follower of Objectivism.

Of course Jumper never recognizes the philosophy it clearly supports. After all, it’s simply a hollow piece of Hollywood entertainment. But there is a moment early on in which David sees a tragic flood on television, hears the newscaster report that people need a miracle to swoop in and save them, and kind of snickers at the thought. Instead he spends the day surfing in Fiji and picnicking atop the Great Sphinx. Sure, eventually he stops being entirely selfish in order to save the girl he likes (Rachel Bilson), but obviously that too is something to benefit his own interests.

The movie has to have its villains, just as Objectivism has its critics. So, perhaps Samuel L. Jackson, as one of the baddie jumper hunters called Paladins, is representative of some leftist threat to free-market capitalism. Or maybe, because he’s apt to mention God, hinting that power-hungry jumpers are too self-deified, he’s more symbolic of some religious response to Objectivism. Really, it doesn’t matter. Either way, the movie is still blatantly promoting self-interest.

And why wouldn’t it? Though Doug Liman didn’t write the screenplay to Jumper, the work is credited as “A Doug Liman Film,” as if he were its author. The filmmaker has acknowledged that this is the third of his “sell-out” movies, even if he’s only really recognizing what detractors think of his last few films. In a way, Liman parallels David in Jumper. He’s got great talent as a director and yet he’s making silly popcorn movies.

However, as he told New York magazine last month, “I have the commercial part. I need to do the public-service part,” a response to comparisons between himself and his late father, Arthur Liman, a lawyer known for his great public service. Maybe, then, while Jumper is a bit of a justification for his career of late, in the sequel David can become more of a selfless superhero, while Liman struggles to move on to more serious films, as he claims he’d like to do (his next picture is about Valerie Plame). For the time being, though, while everyone criticizes Jumper for being too empty or meaningless or stupid, we need to realize that, were any of us in Liman’s shoes, we might have selfishly made such fluff ourselves. With great Hollywood power comes great temptingly easy paychecks.