Film review: The American
MANILA, Philippines - His is a figure that has been familiar to us as since time immemorial. The lone wolf. In the movies, he is sometimes the samurai or the gunslinger. A strong silent man with little to say. Most of the time he is stranger with the mysterious past who quietly comes to town and just as quietly leaves. But only after changing the lives of its inhabitants forever.
If you want a face you can give him Clint Eastwood’s or Steve McQueen’s. To go back further, he probably looked like Gary Cooper. Better yet Matt Damon in his Jason Bourne mold but 20 years from now. Certainly not George Clooney’s whose sleepy-eyed sex appeal is better suited to ER or Danny Ocean’s Las Vegas.
But it is Clooney who plays the part of Edward or Jack or Mr. Butterfly, whoever he is in The American. No set jaw. His do a lot of smiling. No narrow, steely eyes. His are bright blues. But competent actor that he is, he draws experience from
outstanding past performances, remember Syriana and Up In The Air. Thus, he makes up for the seeming inadequacies caused by his too attractive looks by playing the part with the measured precision of a well-oiled machine.
Edward or The American, as he is known to the inhabitants of Abruzzo, a town near Rome, is in some way, a machine. He is as cold as one. In fact, he has come to the town to hibernate after finishing an assignment and prepare for his next one. He killed a woman, one with whom he seemed to have had some attachment. Think of him being a considerate companion and thoughtful lover until that moment after sex when he put a bullet in the back of her head.
As in most stories involving these loners, it is a woman who becomes either their undoing or redemption. Not the dead one. In Edward’s case, there are two new females. One is Clara, (Violante Placido) a prostitute, who as the cliché goes, is one with a heart of gold. Or maybe not. Still she is the closest he comes to relating to another human being. The other one is the stunning Mathilde, (Thekla Reuten) a kindred soul, another assassin for whom he has been tasked to build a special sniper rifle for her next assignment.
It is the precise, step-by-step building of this weapon that director Anton Corbijn uses to set the pace of The American. It is strangely relaxed, much like the way Edward seems to spend his days. Drinking coffee, doing push ups, chatting with the village priest, learning about butterflies, all happening with the beautifully photographed scenery as his background. It is the thought that he is in the midst of this beauty while building this rifle that puts undercurrents of suspense behind the idyllic images.
The tension comes from the facts established early in the film. A man like Edward is not meant to spend his days enjoying the sunshine and the women of Italy. He lost that privilege long ago. He knows it too. The priest might be an opportunity for salvation but he is not about to pick up the offer. What he wants is the chance to be human, to feel, perhaps loving a woman might help, but it looks like he will also be denied that.
Based on the novel A Very Private Gentleman by Martin Booth, The American, is a meticulous study of a man in desperate straits. The viewer knows that. Not Edward. Corbijn shows him going methodically through the motions of doing his job, while at the same time also living the semblance of a normal life. The effect is eerie. You know it is not. That it cannot be. But you watch the movie and like Edward, you hope. You start to think, maybe this time, things will be different.
Corbijn is definitely a director to watch. He has this eye for beauty, I cannot recall one badly shot scene, and a matter of fact story-telling style that in this time of excesses is a joy to find. Of course, it also helps that his Edward is George Clooney. Watch this one because you want to see him. And then go home, impressed.