George Clooney plays the mysterious Jack (or Edward, depending on who speaks to him), a troubled assassin yearning to escape the violence of his profession in The American. His past is left shadowed in ambiguity, while his present serves as the focus of sustained minimalism from director Anton Corbijn, which ultimately transforms The American into a well-executed European arthouse thriller. Jack travels to a quiet Italian village in order to hide from the enigmatic Swedish assassins who want to kill him. He is supposed to lay low and keep out of sight, but his talents remain in very high demand as he agrees to build a rifle for the furtively seductive Mathilde (Thekla Reuten). While Jack constructs Mathilde’s weapon, he falls in love with a prostitute (Violante Placido) and connects with a priest (Paolo Bonacelli). These relationships provide Jack with an idyllic vision of happiness and peace. And as the film develops, Jack must find a way to overcome the demons of his past in order to embrace his dimmed plight at redemption.
This is Corbijn’s second feature film, his first being the critically-acclaimed drama Control, a biography of Ian Curtis who was the lead singer of the band Joy Division. Just like with Control, Corbijn’s directorial style is meant to serve the dark complexities of the narrative’s main protagonist. He does not overt to flashy editing techniques or ostentatious camera angles, which would suggest a hint of arrogance and unbridled imperiousness on his part. Rather, Corbijn succeeds at constraining the narrative to his own visual liking, requiring the audience to exude a great deal of patience in letting the story unfold.
With The American, every shot is executed with a meticulous attention to detail and precision, the kind of work that is reminiscent of the great auteurs like Hitchcock and Coppola. The crane and wide-angle shots of towns and landscapes suggest the confided feelings of isolation and restriction. The POV shots of Jack, along with an extensive use of the close-up, illustrate not only a heightened sense of paranoia and alertness, but also a character who’s emotionally drained and reluctant to open his heart. Even focusing extensively on the prostitute’s pleasured reactions during sex says something about Jack’s search for a connection. Every shot has a purpose in The American as Corbijn and cinematographer Martin Ruhe weave a tapestry of personal anguish and controlled suspense.
Clooney lies at the center of this artful tale of woe and successfully disappears into his character. The charming wit of his past performances is nowhere to be found as Clooney abandons his romantic sensibilities to discover a character embittered by his loneliness and consumed by his devotion to order and routine. Yet strangely enough, Jack is the same kind of character that Clooney has played since he won his Oscar for Syriana, a character so enraptured by the demands of his job that it overrides the passionate side of his humanity. Bob Barnes, Michael Clayton, Ryan Bingham, and now Jack; all are characters that have lost themselves to their profession and are left trying to restore whatever goodness remains in their hearts.
Clooney is able to channel the paranoia and sinful nature of Jack, invoking Gene Hackman in The Conversation by using subtle facial expressions to illustrate a vast internal conflict. Yet the film, and the performance as a whole, is able to work because it is in the hands of a very talented director. Corbijn’s superior understanding of the camera and his conscientious application of tone will no doubt benefit him as he creates more films. I dare you to watch the final scene of The American and not feel your heart break into 1,000 pieces. It won’t be because of Clooney’s acting. Rather, it will be because of how impeccably constructed it is and how Corbijn has succeeded in crafting a masterpiece.
Lenny’s Grade: A
In case you guys are curious...
No comments:
Post a Comment