newjerseynewsroom.com

BY JOE TYRRELL

NEWJERSEYNEWSROOM.COM

MOVIE REVIEW

George Clooney's new thriller, "The American" refers to someone who travels the globe reflexively killing people, although he may no longer be at the top of his game.

No, he's not named George or Barack, just the generic Jack. Mercifully, there are no geopolitics in "The American." Unfortunately, this Focus Features release offers very little in the way of replacement.

Well, there is an exception. If you are looking for an adult education class on how to custom-build you own high-powered rifle with the magazine capacity of a semi-automatic, "The American" is your movie. This being America, that might mean big crowds.

Just come prepared to take notes as George Clooney assembles a machine shop. George chooses drill bits. George pounds washers into fittings. George uses a hand lathe to obtain finer tolerances. George drinks coffee while taking a break. (OK, take a break on your note taking.)

Our only reward, aside from George's cute face, is that for the most part, he's doing this in scenic hilltop towns in Abruzzo.

The movie opens with a brief side trip to equally scenic Sweden. Cozily domestic in a snowy cabin by a frozen lake, George's Jack is wearing a nicely trimmed reindeer-herder beard and enjoying the company of an attractively naked woman. Then, they decide to get dressed and take a walk — straight into mayhem.

A trail of bodies later, Jack is in Italy, turning for help to his shadowy employer. Besides that opening, there are two alarming things about this set-up.

One, the people who are after Jack are not Al Qaeda, or North Koreans, or Triads, or Bloods or even godless Russkies. He identifies them as "the Swedes." Two, Jack's boss is named Pavel. In Hollywood movies, we know guys named Pavel cannot be trusted.

Of such clues, cinema is made. On at least, movies with very spare scripts. As envisioned by screenwriter Rowan Joffe from Martin Booth's novel, Jack. Is. A. Man. Of. Few. Words. And almost none of them convey information.

We can imagine Jaffe's script:

Exterior, Day: Jack, sits in cafe, stairs into space, suddenly looks around to see who's watching. Cut to:

Interior, Night: Jack suddenly sits up in bed, listens for sound. Cut to:

Exterior, Day: Director, show something scenic.

Dutch director Anton Corbijn is up to that task. A well-known photographer and videographer, and keeps "The American" looking almost as good as its star. Whether saffron-scented dimness on back streets, sparkling green water in sun-drenched woods or fluorescent blue exposure in spooky cafes, Corbijn always keeps his visual balance.

But the heart of the movie is laconic Jack, and Jack is George Clooney. So even when Pavel advises him, "Don't make friends" while hiding out, he just can't help himself. That extends to Clara, the whore he starts patronizing in place of a real relationship.

This being a movie, Clara finds herself completely fulfilled by her new customer, who gives his name as "Edward." She's soon giving it away, casually running into him on her day off, inviting him out to dinner. At least she knows her wines.

Clara is played by the extravagantly named actress/singer Violante Placido, a moniker worthy of Italian cinema. As a lower-billed cast member, it falls to Placido to provide most of this film's very European nudity. And in that, she is more than worthy of Italian cinema. (There's only a sliver of Clooney on view; he's the star.)

While making no judgments about your lifestyle choices, it is advisable not to make any hard-and-fast decision about how much you like girls until you check out Violante Placido.

Deep breath. OK, by day, Pavel has set up Jack with a job supplying supple assassin Mathilde, played by sexy Thekla Reuten of "Sleeper Cell." Reuten doesn't have to take off her clothes to get a job, but there's still plenty of rising tension between her and Clooney as they compare muzzle velocities.

Will they or won't they? Kill each other, that is.

For all Jack/Edward's difficulty sleeping at night, that is as close to an existential question as "The American" can manage.

Joe Tyrrell may be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it