The American – 6

Given that George Clooney has such good looks, good voice, eyes that twinkle and adequate acting ability, why can’t someone teach him to run? First in Michael Clayton, now in The American, this macho sexpot starts to sprint…and moves like a girl!
Really, this movie is all about George Clooney, or should I say, George Clooney’s character. He is present in every scene, and if he is not onscreen, he is on the other end of the phone call, or the rifle sight. It is fundamentally an existential drama, as Clooney comes to decide, a bit too late, what in life is worth living for, and his hardboiled persona begins to reveal some cracks.
Otherwise, the movie makes no sense. Who is Clooney working for? Why is he working for them? Why is he offered tens of thousands to build a rifle? Why couldn’t they just buy one from a Chechen arms dealer? How is he able to construct this perfect piece of equipment with spare parts he finds in a garage? By withholding all backstory and placing events in Sweden and Italy, we don’t know who’s the good guy, who’s the bad, or why Clooney is who he is. All we see is an agent in the middle of an obscure assignment who meets a gorgeous(!) prostitute and questions the life he is leading. As I say, an existential drama.
It’s also approximately the 37th movie I’ve seen this year in which a character smokes – often, as here, quite gratuitously. Whatever happened to the campaign against tobacco products in the cinema?