George Clooney Boosts Uneven American

By Rob Christopher in Arts & Entertainment on Sep 1, 2010 3:40PM

George Clooney has often been compared to Cary Grant. That comparison is apt, so far as it goes; any of the Ocean's series attest to that. But, if memory serves, Cary Grant never shot an innocent woman in the back of the head in any of his movies, as Clooney does in The American. That he can do something like that onscreen and yet still maintain our sympathy is proof positive of his charisma. If only the movie surrounding him was so successful.

Jack, played by Clooney, is a weary yet ruthless hitman. He's the kind of rugged, existential figure who's been haunting movies at least since Alain Delon in Le Samouraï. Add a dash of Richard Burton's bone-tiredness in The Spy Who Came in from the Cold and you've got Jack. After an attempt on his life in Sweden, he flees to a small town in the Italian countryside. A shadowy patron (Johan Leysen) keeps in touch with him by telephone, dangling a job offer while sternly cautioning him "not to make any friends." But of course, although Jack is a killer, he's only human. Almost despite himself he strikes up an acquaintance with an elderly priest (Paolo Bonacelli, wonderfully droll) as well as a love affair with Clara (Violante Placido), a prostitute.

The movie, stylishly directed by Anton Corbijn (Control), making the most of atmospheric locations, is really two movies--meshing uneasily with one another and, alas, almost canceling each other out. The first, and more interesting, is a restrained character study. Jack is a man forced to exist without any meaningful human warmth or tenderness. His scenes with Clara, where we witness a deep hunger for love locked in a struggle with his steely self-preservation, are scary and gripping. Clooney turns in another stellar performance that cannily balances crinkly charm with cold-bloodedness. It's genuinely disturbing.

But then there's the second movie: a well-staged but rather ordinary suspense tale. The script's red herrings, crudely injected at strategic moments, constantly threaten to obliterate the engaging freshness of the character's interactions. There are plenty of other movies with men shooting at each other on ill-lit streets paved with cobblestones, and when The American falls back into those careworn grooves it's a letdown.