While walking out of The American, a fellow critic pointed out something that couldn’t be close to the truth: this is the anti-Bond film. With the Bond movies, the audience is filled with envy. You wanna be that man. Here, it’s difficult to imagine anyone wanting to be George Clooney’s unnamed assassin.
This is a heartfelt portrayal of a cold individual. Jack (Clooney) — he’s referred to that name as well as Edward, but his real name is most likely neither — lives a life of solitude. He’s untrusting and lonely as you’d expect an assassin to be. Jack’s main problem is that perhaps he’s too trusting. As the fantastic opening shows, the one kink in his armor seems to his soft spot for women.
After a horrific incidence involving a woman in his life, he goes back to work. Jack heads where just about anyone would love to go: Italy. And unsurprisingly, with Anton Corbijn behind the camera, it’s shot beautifully. Corbijn captures Jack’s isolation perfectly in nearly every shot that Clooney is in, and he also nails the paranoid atmosphere.
While on this working vacation, Jack finds what he wants most: love, albeit with a prostitute. On paper, it sounds terribly cliche, but it couldn’t have been handled better. There’s real emotion present and one can feel Jack’s internal struggle. It is handled with a genuine touch, something usually glossed over in other films of this genre.
Clooney couldn’t be going further away from his known persona. Clooney has always been someone known for his charm and wit, but here, he relies on neither. Jack is quiet, cold, and obviously hurting internally. The idea of an assassin on a last job and in need of love sounds more than tripe, but Clooney and the script couldn’t be anything but subtle. One can feel the hurt Jack is going through without having Clooney break down or always walk around mopey. On the surface, Jack is a blank slate and Clooney is able to clearly convey this calculating and hurt life.
Jack may not be a character you come away loving and wanting to hang out with like most of Clooney’s characters, but he’s one you sympathize with and find heartbreaking. You care what his outcome is and don’t look at him as just a killer or a badass, though he is incredibly skilled and proficient.
Much like Control, Corbijn’s directorial debut, he walks a fine line of filling every shot with purposeful beauty whilst not coming off as self-indulgent. Nearly every shot pops like a standalone photograph. Frankly, it’s a bit astonishing Corbijn’s style isn’t a distraction. When you think deeply into plenty of shots you can see how the perfectionist feel to it all plays into Jack, who’s just that: a perfectionist on the outside.
The American isn’t a film for everyone. Many will find its deliberately slow pacing to be an annoyance, but those with patience will find a beautifully-crafted story of isolation and love.