The American

Summer is just now nearing its annual end, but there's already a wintry wind blowing through a movie theatre near you. That sudden blast of cold air is courtesy of the intensely delicious thriller The American, which features a chill in nearly every facet of its lean frame, from George Clooney's determined death stare to the glacial pace that lends the narrative a haunting stillness. Director Anton Corbijn, helming only his second feature, locates a brave balance between morose, methodical silence and explosive, efficient violence. He holds the movie with confident care and never loosens his grip.

Watching a thriller unfold with such detailed dedication on the part of a filmmaker allows for an exquisite viewing experience. Corbijn is not afraid to hold a shot for a long time, nor is he worried about allowing long stretches of the movie to go without dialogue or action. His directorial vision is so cleanly focused that The American never falters along the way. It's hugely engaging and full of sumptuous delights and nothing feels out of place.

Corbijn deserves a colossal amount of credit for executing this movie with such grace, but perhaps one of his most impressive choices is in the casting of Clooney as a calm and collected assassin named Jack. Holed up in a tiny Italian village, wrestling with his past, Jack is trying to complete one last job before fulfilling his dream of leaving his lonely life behind. His hopefully final gig is a seemingly simple one involving the creation of a special gun, which means the movie is stuffed with scenes of Clooney sitting in near silence, crafting various pieces of the sleek weapon.

At first, this character seems to ask little of Clooney, who is very adept at walking around and looking cool without a single sign of discernible effort. But suddenly, with just a few looks nestled deep in his aging eyes, Clooney begins to work his magic like I've never quite witnessed before. He transforms Jack into a fascinating, multi-layered person with incredible complexities that never quite reach the surface of his skin. This performance is arguably the best work I have ever seen Clooney deliver and watching him feed the screen with such nuanced detail is nothing less than extraordinary.

Jack's journey is a startlingly effective one, punctuated by bursts of violence and soothed by the tender love of a gorgeous woman (Violante Placido), who may just offer the perfect escape from his dangerous life. There are many sides to Jack, but they're losing clarity in connection to each other and this sense of a loss of self plagues the skilled assassin. Clooney navigates each peak and valley of Jack's experience with such precision that it's easy to draw parallels between his performance and the meticulousness with which Jack builds a gun.

Matching Clooney's performance and Corbijn's direction in tonal attitude, Martin Ruhe's cinematography paints a powerful picture of a stark world that feels cold even when the sun is beaming down from above. The visual vocabulary of the movie communicates the narrative's dramatic impact through a series of carefully constructed images. Each shot is composed with an incredible amount of spatial sensibility that expertly reveals the intent of each scene. The camera captures wide open spaces of Italian countryside or even the uncluttered interior of Jack's temporary home in a manner that evokes a sense of empty isolation, while scenes of passion and intensity adopt a stirring sense of claustrophobia.

Each and every piece of this taut puzzle works in tandem with each other and so The American feels fully realized and entirely established. The music (what little there is) suits each accompanying scene appropriately and the village location where most of the movie takes place provides a geographic labyrinth within which we can be become lost and disoriented. Seeing these individual pieces work together with such stunning success is extremely exciting and another reminder that this American is firing on all cylinders.

Solid supporting performances from Placido and Paolo Bonacelli as a priest fearing for Jack's soul help further fill the spaces between Clooney and the edges of the frame. That Placido plays a prostitute and Bonacelli a man of God means that the movie can extend its exploration of human experience to include issues of sexuality and religion. This only takes up a small portion of the movie, but what is most important is that Placido and Bonacelli each tackle their roles with an honesty that allows them to bypass the simple stereotypes and create believable characters.

Jack's world is never dull. From the people who surround him to the archaic architecture that encloses him, he is always perched on the precipice of an experience that is both jarring and attractive, helpful and dangerous. His life as an assassin is never unnecessarily glorified, nor are his considerable abilities ignored. The amount of detail that Jack puts into his work lends the movie an additional dose of authenticity that is further supported by the tone and pace. Clooney never shies away from making Jack a complex character and he refuses to offer easy answers, instead wearing his face like a mask in a manner that is utterly enthralling.

The American is an outstanding effort that reshapes the thriller movie with glorious precision. Corbijn defines the boundaries of the narrative with cold-blooded clarity. Clooney delivers a performance of astonishing ability that adds grand dimension to his character. Ruhe's cinematography visually translates the tone of every scene and every shot. The power of their collaboration is extensive, allowing this movie to become something spectacular and excitingly original. The American is a very chilly picture, but its effect is far from frozen. Suddenly, that wintry wind begins to feel a whole lot more like a beautiful breath of fresh air.