The Loneliest Killer on Earth

George Clooney doesn’t smile in director Anton (2007’s Control) Corbijn’s The American.

The actor (who is charisma personified off screen and, more often than not, on screen as well), in fact, mutes himself to such an extreme it’s almost off-putting.

I suppose it was a necessary evil, one needed to play a character who can muster only the semblance of a smirk or two – never a full one – lest he reveal anything more than his extremely guarded nature.

Clooney plays an American assassin living/hiding in Europe who goes by the name of Jack most of the time, Edward the rest. That’s how closed off he is from the world. And that’s, ultimately, why I don’t think this oh-so-very European movie will...connect with a wide audience stateside – the guy is impenetrable.

I know it’s kinda terrible of me to say the movie probably won’t do so well on this side of the pong, but it’s true – and anyone interested in seeing this decidedly art, let’s say, thriller will be a person interested in seeing Clooney, no matter how bleak the movie, anyway.

Look, The American is elegant, methodical, and quiet. These are remarkable qualities that, combined with a slooow, indulgent script and approach (Corbijn shot every detail of Jack’s doing of anything in a way that made me wonder if he was setting up something...or if he was just killing time), make me dread the notion that this super-early fall entry could be setting the pace for the season to come, not to mention question its odd for box office domination.

Like any movie, though, this one has its moments (it’s interesting to see Jack fight to stay away from people but be nevertheless drawn to them), but not exciting-enough ones to make anyone forget that we know nothing about Jack. Other than, you know, he’s this like, lone cowboy – when the movie begins, and, worse, when it ends. We really don’t learn much about him in the course of two hours.

When we are first introduced to him, the guy is hiding out with a lady friend in the snowy wilderness of Sweden. A man of few words, we don’t hear him utter more than a few here and there until the next morning, when they discover tracks in the snow. Someone’s after them...him, he realizes, and just like that he quickly finds out who and introduces the hunter to his maker.

His lady friend to hers, too, for good measure (he can’t very well leave any witnesses around, and maybe she was in on it, too?).

One phone call to an associate later, Jack retreats to a quaint Italian countryside town. There, he at first relishes the isolation, the distance between him and the killin’ business. However, he is then tasked with a “last job” – he has to custom build a weapon for a mysterious contract.

Little by little, as he entangles himself in the lives of the locals (including the town’s priest and a prostitute who falls for him and whom he doubts he can let in), his life, and the movie, become more and more complicated.

As The American’s stakes got higher and higher I kept hope that the payoff would come with a flood of answers as to who Jack was, how he got into his line of work, where he had come from and where he wanted to go.

All I got in the end was our cypher Jack has some serious trust issues with the ladies – and Clooney must always be allowed to smile on screen.

My Rating **

Photo: Focus Features.