The American, Anton Corbijn’s new film about an assassin-spy who hides out in Italy while he tries to finish his final job, has received very mixed reviews. The slow pace and minimalist script has thrown a number of people expecting to see another George Clooney thriller. Others, however, have recognized the fantastic cinematography and the impressive acting from a cast of relative unknowns.
What hasn’t been discussed as much is the classification of The American as a modern tragedy. Jack (George Clooney) cannot escape his past; neither can he seize his future. Attempts at honesty and romantic love are thwarted by his dark occupation. Only in the last ten minutes of the movie – spoiler alert! – does he try to get to Clara to tell the truth about him, and reaches her only as he dies. She has come out of her cocoon. But he is a stillborn butterfly.
The movie can be understood as commentary about the traditional male, I think. The opaque lives we live often never way to transparency. A desire to love is always handcuffed by mistrust and self-defense. Clooney’s wordless acting in that final stretch of road captures the tragic dynamic so well. He will die before he has the chance to love and be loved.
Men on the Moon 