Based on Martin Booth’s novel, The American is a sparse, taut and gripping thriller that establishes Anton Corbijn as a prominent new director. His feature film debut, the much-lauded 2007 Ian Curtis biopic Control, was set in the bleak Manchester world of the late 70s. It was a setting well known to Corbijn, so it was interesting to see whether he could adapt his vision to a less familiar subject. On this evidence, it’s clear that he can.
Despite its title, The American is possessed of a European sensibility, with its very deliberate pacing. This is in part due to its Dutch director and the film’s Italian setting. The one concession to commercialism is the hiring of George Clooney for the title role. But it’s certainly not a compromise. Clooney delivers a powerful performance as Jack, a complex, tightly wound assassin who has spent his life constantly on the move, isolated from society.
Jack’s lifeless face is permanently etched with a furrowed brow. Though he rarely speaks, his face says a lot. There are rare moments when the dead eyes sparkle and you get a brief glimpse of a lost and damaged soul desperately trying to figure how to salvage his life.
The film’s other star is the Italian countryside. There are long, lingering shots of spectacular landscapes that possess an epic sense of scale, with figures and vehicles being almost insignificant. In The American, as he was in Control, Corbijn works with cinematographer Martin Ruhe to help realize his vision.
There are echoes of Sergio Leone’s quiet, introspective westerns in The American, which is never in a hurry. In this character study of a taciturn loner, screenwriter Rowan Joffee almost reluctantly includes dialogue, but the scarcity of words adds weight to those that are uttered.
Very little is ever revealed about Jack. When we first meet him, his secluded snowy hideaway is discovered by an assassin hired by a group out to kill him, though for exactly what we never know. After turning the tables on his killer, he contacts his employee, the equally enigmatic Pavel (Johan Leysen), who instructs him to go into hiding and await his next assignment. Adding as a precautionary note, “Don’t make any friends Jack.”
Jack ends up in a sleepy medieval town of Castel del Monte in southeast Italy. Despite the warning from his boss, Jack does make a friend. After engaging the services of a beautiful call girl called Clara, played by the stunning and frequently naked Violante Placido, the two begin a torrid affair. Her effervescent, carefree nature is in stark contrast to Jack’s intensity. Every loud noise makes him flinch and reach for his ever-present gun. But she sees another side to the forsaken Jack. She senses he has the capacity to turn into a butterfly, like the one tattooed on his back. “You’re a good man, but you have a secret,” she observes.
The tension that is so deeply etched into Jack’s face and psyche is evident throughout the film, which is hauntingly quiet at times. Like Jack’s life, which is lived in constant fear, the film possesses an underlying threat of danger. Clooney does a masterful job of conveying Jack’s demons and his internal conflict as he struggles with his feelings towards Clara.
Perhaps too introverted and slow for mass consumption, The American is nevertheless a work of consummate assurance and style. Every shot is crafted. Every gesture is meaningful. Every word precious. Those, like me, who have long admired Corbijn’s work, will not be surprised that he has triumphed in yet another medium. After seeing The American, those for whom the name is new are likely to be equally impressed.
Kevin Murphy
