The
same stillness and raw emotion exuded from Anton
Corbijn's stellar debut film Control
is in full view in the Clooney vehicle The
American.
"Don't make any
friends, you used to know that" says the handler Pavel (played heartlessly
by Johan Leysen) to his employee, an
assassin whose assumed identity is Jack (George
Clooney) is told to retreat to a small Italian town after things go
terribly wrong in Sweden, this is just the beginning as threats both external
and otherwise pursue him. As he drives towards his inevitable fate, the grainy
distance and shadows similar to that of a music video (Corbijn's speciality), but imbued with enough emotion and purpose
that it fits together.
Jack
is a cold, methodical killer. He has little qualm in shooting his lover, is
loyal to his job and he deals with anything that comes his way with razor sharp
precision. Jack is also human and regardless of his training or profession, the
human element becomes his weakness. Solitude in Castel Del Monte, the town he
stays in is short-lived as he willingly and unwillingly makes connections, even
revealing the hypocrisy of others such as the priest and his bastard son.
Although there are many scenes of quiet contemplation Jack longs for intimacy
and the clichéd heavy handed purpose of redemption is thankfully not utilised
as Corbijn opts for a subtle,
paranoia driven guilt trip.
The
experience of laying low in the town is a very meditative one and at times
philosophical, particularly with the priest Father Benedetto (Paolo Bonacelli) who knows more than he
should when he declares Jack "a craftsman
and not an artist" (after Jack lies about not being good with machines) and
hams it up as he hands out spiritual direction and soul food. Jack's self
reflection and control is an integral part of The American and it is clear that he has already lost a lot of it as
we are thrust into his life with no idea of back story or exactly why he is
being hunted. He follows a routine; leaving his small apartment after rigorous
exercise to visit café's in the similar but more comprehensible way Jim Jarmuschs's Limits of Control had its protagonist do. Jack also visits a
brothel and meets with one particular prostitute Clara (Violante Placido) who panders to his weakness as their relationship
becomes more than a transaction.
Jack
has not retired, nor is he inactive but he does receive a strange request from
his employer to make a silencer and assist another agent Ingrid (Irina Bjorklund) with a hit. Assembling
a rifle is a cool moment in cinema; The
American tops that completely with a scene that has Jack assemble a
silencer from scratch with car parts. The craft of his profession plays out
beautifully; he kills with brutal efficiency, meets with other agents
ingeniously and uses various tactics that aid his survival, such as removing
his shoes to stealth kill another assassin.
His
pseudo identity is that of a travel photographer as he makes his way through
the town and the neighbouring city. Jack which may not be his real name as
Edward is also mentioned, even has a pseudo pseudo agenda of Senor farfalla (Mr. Butterfly) as he
himself states that they are an endangered species, and because of the moniker;
the tattoo of a butterfly, on his back.
The feeling of paranoia is a
constant niggling one, and is handled expertly as Jack meets with a fellow
agent, handling a rifle together, the music and distance between the both of
them using foreground and background shots are highly effective and everyone's
motives are questioned. Jack's paranoia ramps up and an equally tense scene at
a picnic with Clara also play out with equal suspicion.
As Jack's begins to lose control
he makes some mistakes, revealing too much information about himself and making
the tried and true mistake of opting out of his profession. "There is no out", replies Pavel, which
follows a sequence that explodes into a thrilling double cross, literally a
white knuckle showdown and a real sense of finality, with the poignant final
scene as a butterfly drifts out of view.