- The American does for George Clooney what Once Upon a Time in the West did for Henry Fonda. Gone is the good-natured Hollywood star who grins his way through awards ceremonies and the Ocean's 11 series. In his place, The American provides an almost unrecognizably muted actor who restricts his mouth to a thin line, permitting only his darting eyes to reflect a whirlwind of internalized thoughts and feelings. He speaks so rarely that his voice always sounds hoarse from disuse, and what words do slip past his lips tend to discourage further conversation. The film's first five minutes make it appear as though this man lives a life of relative leisure, but things aren't always as they seem.
- The man's name, by the way, is Jack. Or maybe Edward. People call him "Mr. Butterfly" in various languages, and his interest in delicate lepidoptera reminded me immediately of Jef Costello's pet parakeet in Le Samourai. Like Jef, Jack is a ruthless killer. He claims to be a freelance photographer who's not very good with machines, but he can assemble a sniper rifle out of spare parts from a garage. This he does at the request of a formidable client named Mathilde (Thekla Reuten) who is sent to Jack by his craggy and mysterious employer Pavel (Johan Leysen). Despite accepting the job, it's obvious that Jack's real goal is to get out of the assassination game entirely. Once he finds a way to evade those mysterious "Swedes" who keep trying to kill him, maybe Jack will finally get the chance to retire.
- The thing is, Jack is a lonely man. His last relationship ended abruptly, and he finds himself frequenting bordellos more often than someone in his business ever should. He meets a prostitute named Clara (Violante Placido), and the two begin to fall in love. Jack even takes her on a secluded riverside picnic, but he just can't shake his suspicion that she may be trying to kill him. In fact, he has the same suspicions about Mathilde, and one guesses that he doesn't trust the loquacious town priest (Paolo Bonacelli) very far, either. I suppose when most of your life is spent wondering who is trying to kill you, it's tough to get close to anyone. Perhaps it's not surprising that he believes "all men are sinners" when so many of the men (and women) in his business really are.
- Equally unsurprising is the fact that I would appreciate any film that borrows themes and characterizations from Jean-Pierre Melville, footage from Sergio Leone, and an ending from The Asphalt Jungle. Despite referencing these very worthy antecedents, however, The American proves to be a striking and original film on its own merits. While Clooney's deadpan glowering and seasoned musculature are almost enough to carry the film themselves, his excellent performance is terrifically captured by director Anton Corbijn who, along with cinematographer Martin Ruhe, transforms the green country days of a small Italian villa into eerie nights lit exclusively by sodium vapor and neon. It would be a wonderful place to retire, if you could manage to live that long.
- I somehow didn't realize this during the film, but Violante Placido (who has a terrific name) is the daughter of The Godfather's Simonetta Stefanelli, whom she strongly resembles.
