So I came into this movie not knowing what to expect but from the box...and the surprising opening, this set itself up to be one of those run and gun, agent vs. agency thriller dramas a la Jason Bourne or something. Well, holy crap, was I fuckin' wrong-diddily-ong and instead I find this beautiful “potter vs. clay” near masterpiece that took a subject I wouldn't think could make a film like this and just made it work.
The American is a story about a man (Jack/Edward depending on who's talking to him) who has the same understanding for guns that a sculptor would for varieties of stone. He knows every nook, every crannie, every gear, bolt, and bolt action (ha.) of his tools and can use them more effectively than most because of the profound connection he has with each and every piece. He is not a murderer, an assassin, or a secret agent. He is an artist, a maker of firearms, so skilled in his craft that he is approached from people on all corners of the globe who want to hire him for his services or kill him because of what his services have done.
After a job gone wrong which leads to truly shocking death of his last love, Jack (George Clooney) realizes that if he doesn't get out, he will be forced to struggle and run from the life his art has painted for him for the rest of his life. He finds himself in Italy, wanting to hide, but knowing he can't as his employer has another assignment for him, hopefully his last.
As an artist, Jack has a certain disconnect with the regular world around him. He is focused, determined, centered on his craft and is nervous in situations that he can't control. He passes up the picturesque view when he arrives in Italy for the low, danky room at the bottom of the stairs because he cannot be distracted with such things. He's comfortable in enclosure.
Watching him work is a thing of beauty. The camera hones in on slants and scrapes that even the sharpshooters take for granted; he makes and makeshifts, is a master of improvization, showcased as he takes parts from a mechanic's garage to build a suppressor for a gun that fires with the range and accuracy of a rifle, the speed of submachine gun, and fits in a briefcase.
As I mentioned, he's not a secret agent, but perhaps I've seen too many James Bond movies because I could connect the two a bit. He hops from place to place, dodges bullets while expecting to be a master at his art, he knows everything about everywhere, has a remarkable spidey sense for danger, and his only true weakness is love. Attempting the safe (this will soon sound like a joke) route of companionship by hiring a prostitute (told ya), Clara (Violante Placido), Jack develops a true fondness for her and like a certain double-0 before him, puts all of his eggs in one basket (though that's probably the female's line) and risks everything for a chance at a life he secretly believes he will never have. It's sweet, poetic, a bit depressing.
So is the tortured life of mastery; a peaceful, focused eye surrounded by a hurricane of uncertainty and chaos. The American keeps you on edge, but not in suspense. It holds you still, but keeps you clinching the ground as any unexpected shift can send Jack prematurely confronting the crashing waves of the treacherous world around him; the one he helped create because his art happens to be the construction of deadly weapons, ones that have possibly started wars or ended movements, killed leaders and birthed heroes...just like the artists of old. It's as if this was a modern homage to Renaissance masterminds like Boticelli, Da Vinci, Raphael, and did I mention this took place in Italy?
I can understand why so many people looked at this film and said things like “it was slow,” “it was boring,” and “I don't know what it was trying to do.” Like I said, the film set itself up to be completely different and perhaps because, like an idiot, I went to art school, I just connected instantly with this story and the trials and fears of Jack as he painted (or screwed together) his final masterpiece. With this much focus on weaponry, I can understand the disappointment of the lacking thrills and suspence.
But this wasn't a movie about weaponry. This was a movie about an artist. The fucking Hattori Hanzo of gun-making, who like the swordmaster, wants to never do it again.
Anyway, I loved this watch, it just really worked for me and for that, I am giving this a...probably contraversial...9 dustbusters out of 10. Now if I could only figure out the damn butterfly thing.
Fair warning- I loved this movie and I'm bored and have nothing better to do with myself at the moment, so I apologize in advance for the novel you are about to read (or not).
ReplyDeleteTo start, you'll get no counter-argument from me. I really loved this film too- but interestingly, for a couple of reasons other than the (on the money) reasons you mentioned.
I'm one of those rare film-goers that actually likes movies with a slower pace; some definitely will find this one slow, but I find it fascinating when the camera stays static and just gives the scene time to develop. And there's a LOT of that in "The American."
But what truly caught my attention and made this one memorable for me had less to do with the actors or the slow, deliberate pace; for me it was all about two things; lighting and sound.
I thought it was interesting how during the scenes of Jack/Edward wandering the village streets, the lighting is almost surreal, bathed in a yellow-gold glow, like in a painting. The lighting is flat and even when Jack/Edward is honing his craft, then turns scarlet red when he's cavorting with his hooker/girlfriend. I like it when lighting almost becomes a character.
There have been a couple of movies in the last few years that have used sound to GREAT effect (the standouts for me are "The Assassination of Jesse James..." and "No Country for Old Men") and "The American" joins the ranks. There's very little score here, but nothing focuses your attention on a scene like having to really listen to hear the tap of footsteps, the clinking of keys...and the sounds of a weapon being assembled. Brilliant.
And finally (I know...about fuckin' time you're saying), no idea about the butterfly. Maybe we're meant to see that the tattoo is part of him physically but eventually is able to fly free? There's a musical selection from "Madame Butterfly", an opera all about sacrificing one's self for the love of another, maybe symbolically...?
Great, now I'll have that damned butterfly on my mind all night.
I don't know, I got a lesson in symbology from a friend of mine last night on discussing the damn butterfly and what I really got out of it was symbology isn't about making someone's shit smell like roses, but instead convincing someone that there's a connection between the two. So the butterfly was probably a symbol of freedom or beauty or freedom beauty or escapist freedom beauty or shit or roses.
ReplyDeleteI'll give you it on the lighting, though for me when lighting really stands out is when it's blatantly obvious like in Hard Candy or One Hour Photo, or when its used for framing like in Rear Window or The Godfather. For some reason, I just struggle noticing other than that, which sucks because I'm a sucker for good production value.
I do respect slow movies as well as long as they make the journey both worth it and understandable as to why it was slow in the first place (thinking Magnolia here). Thinking about it, I did notice the camera work. Not too much. Really, this films theme was precision and it showed very very well.
Love the comment!