Movie Review - 'The American'‏

Crisp, compact and cryptic, 'The American' is a standard-
issue hit man thriller tailor made for George Clooney. Filmed
not too far from his Italian home, anchored firmly to his
performance and his star presence, it works its way past
'formula' by the manner in which it builds its suspense.
The film, directed by Anton Corbijn (famed rock photographer
and director of the excellent 'Joy Division' bio 'Control'),
makes brilliant uses of its rural Italian silences as well
as its gun-barrel silencers. Its quiet is its most unnerving
ingredient. The most American thing about this superb suspense
thriller is its title. True, Jack (George Clooney) is legally
a citizen of the United States, but as a trained assassin he
is a man without a past. He has no home, no family, no friends.
He cannot afford them, when his own life could end without warning
at any time in any part of the world his work takes him. For
the purposes of this elegant, sophisticated, draining redemption
drama, work is in the rugged, empty, mountainous Italian region
of Abruzzo.
Based on a character in a Martin Booth novel 'A Very Private
Gentleman', Jack is a man of few words. He is proficient, but
not Jason Bourne superhuman. He knows his trade, alone among
assassins, Jack is a master craftsman, and in odd, private
moments, he betrays the way it has made him paranoid, given him
a lifetime of guilt.
We meet Jack in snowy Sweden, sharing a rustic idyll with Ingrid
(Irina Björklund) a tall, thin lady friend, with a delicious
derrière. Within moments, as they are strolling on a frozen lake,
shots ring out and there's blood on the snow. When he finally
gets to the safety of a truck stop, he telephones his control
agent Pavel (Johan Leysen), and vows that his next assignment
will be his last.

"I've got a job for you, custom fit."

"I'll think about it."

And Jack is on the run, and he is asked to lay low. Pavel
sends him off to a tiny, ancient hill town in the boondocks
of Abruzzo with a warning;

"Don't make any friends, Jack. You used to know that."

Their terse exchanges give away no warmth, little history and
almost no trust. Jack has been told to go there and await for
the assignment. He poses as a photographer, covers his tracks
and keeps his guard when, as the guy the townsfolk quickly call
'The American', he is sought out by a chatty, elderly priest
named Father Benedetto (Paolo Bonacelli 'Mission Impossible III').
Surprising himself, Jack seeks out the friendship that this man
of the cloth brings him. But don't expect any confessions here.
Clooney carries this with little dialogue.

Jack finally meets his client, a lovely Belgian woman named
Mathilde (Thekla Reuten 'In Bruges'). His assignment is to assemble
a weapon for someone else to use, a welcome change from firsthand
violence. Jack gives precious little away to anyone, including
the audience, but there is a sense he's had enough of the profession
of cold-blooded killer. It's just possible he may want to let
someone into his heart.
The other person who cracks his armour is a classic Italian beauty,
who happens to be the local prostitute. He joylessly enjoys the
pleasures of Clara (Violante Placido 'Fade to Black') and likes
her because she knows their physical intimacy is just business.
But because of the agitation in his dreams and in his soul, he will
develop a fondness for her that could turn to love, if he's not
careful. By stepping out of the shadows, Jack may be tempting fate.
But he is a man, and has to eat, after sizing up the waiter or the
couple at the next table. And despite his best efforts to blend in,
we know trouble is going to come looking for him.
Jack is nothing if not careful. He sees potential trouble everywhere.
He never lets down his guard, never relaxes. A strange man seen
once is marked. The same man seen twice is an enemy, and not without
reason. Though there is relatively little violence given the genre,
violence is a constant, unnerving threat. It's almost enough to put
you off the stunning scenery and Martin Ruhe's breathtaking widescreen
cinematography. The camera often sits on his shoulder and follows him
through the empty streets. He's alert, and this manner of moviemaking
makes us alert, too. We expect violence. So does he. We become as
jumpy as Jack must be. I had a few jolts of my own!

It sometimes seems that movies are overrun with hit men. The standard
way of portraying them is people who feel little, collect their cash,
do their dirty work and try to get out with that 'one last job'.
There's a bit of that sort of melodrama in 'The American'. Clooney's
moments suggesting Jack has regrets and fears are interesting, but
the film is very much caught up in the tradecraft. It takes its own
sweet time advancing Rowan Joffe's economical screenplay adaptation
of the novel. It is as though, everyone involved is seduced by nature
and the pace of village life, but inevitably, forces gather and Jack
is compelled to deliver on his promise of a weapon.
Corbijn plays his own cards close as this controlled exercise in
applied tension unfolds. 'The American' is a study in stillness. It
finds everyone at the top of their game. Clooney, as usual, is suave,
smooth, unassuming, rock-solid and entirely believable, while the
European cast, crew, writer and director deliver a genuine thriller
with all the high polish and intelligence of an art film.



* Reviewed September 5, 2010
w/help from I.M.D.B