The American

The region of Castel del Monte looks to be an exquisitely beautiful site. Situated in the mountains of Abruzzo in Italy, it's the setting of director Anton Corbijn's sombre film The American, and the filmmaker has taken it upon himself to show off the area's gorgeous landscape. The buildings, the countryside and the mountains themselves are all lushly shot, Corbijn staying with their eye-pleasing nature for long periods of time. And, to be frank, they're the most exciting aspect of the movie.

Former music video director Corbijn's drama/spy thriller is a slowly paced one with an arty attitude, rarely indulging itself in the latter of those genres. It is a mood piece diverging outside of the mainstream hoopla, driven mainly by characters' facial expressions and not grandiose dialogue or elongated fist fights. For the most part, not very much is going on in terms of plot, an element which both works for the film as well as against it.

It stars two-time People magazine's Sexiest Man Alive winner George Clooney as the titular American named Jack - or Edward, his pseudonym to those he is not close with - an expert assassin who specialises in building weapons for his murdering associates. After an attempt on his life results in the death of his lover, Ingrid (Irina Björklund) - he pulls the trigger on her when she learns too much, I might add - Jack is advised to go into hiding by his handler, Pavel (Johan Leysen), out of fear that someone may still be after him.

Jack does so, taking residence in Castel del Monte, where he is contacted via phone by Pavel and told that he is to meet with Mathilde (Thekla Reuten), whom he is to construct a high-powered rifle for. They get together, they talk about the technicalities of the job and, over the next few days, Jack begins assembling the device while looking out for possible assassins.

Clooney is usually associated with charming, vibrant ladies-man leads with pearly white teeth and flirtatious dispositions, yet here he is playing a character who carries none of these traits. He is largely reserved, unable to so much as smile for the film's entire length. The character of Jack is a man without humour, without charisma and without the ability to connect with people. James Bond, he is not. You could go so far as to say that he is lifeless and bordering upon robotic, but Clooney gives a hint of humanity in his actions.

He spends much of his time manufacturing the weapon, working out topless in his hotel room (that's for you, ladies) and talking to a kind local priest he has befriended (Paolo Bonacelli), despite Pavel's directions of, "Don't talk to anyone. And above all, don't make any friends." Also in defiance of this, he is sleeping with a prostitute named Clara (Violante Placido) who he - out of regret for his killing of Ingrid and a desperate need for female affection - bonds with.

Corbijn crafts some tension amongst the film's cold atmosphere, with Jack in a constant state of paranoia after almost being killed in Sweden in the movie's opening scene. He wanders the cobblestone streets of Castel del Monte convinced that every footstep he hears behind him is that of a hit man. He wakes up at night in a cold sweat after a book slams onto the floor, grabbing his gun from under the pillow and pointing it at thin air.

The Dutch-born director shoots the film with a distinct European style, dealing with mainly still camerawork and barely-moving pacing. The tranquil nature of The American does, however, make it a bit of a bore at times, shooting itself in the foot with such an apathetic mood. Much of the film consists of close-ups of either Clooney looking serious, anxious and paranoid without saying a word; or him carefully constructing the rifle, which takes a lot of patience to watch for a whole 90 minutes. While it kept my attention for the most part, my level of enjoyment and captivity had limitations.

Placido is an arousing love interest for Clooney's cold-hearted loner, delivering an amiable performance as a hooker who is more than willing to help with Jack's desires for emotional closeness. She spends a fair amount of the film with her clothes off (that's for us, guys) and her motives clouded in mystery, causing Jack to become a little suspicious of her. The two share a convincing chemistry as they fulfil each other's wants and needs.

As Father Benedetto, Bonacelli is a pleasing supporting actor, providing the morals and themes of the film in the form of a man of the cloth. He is unaware of Jack's job, but still looking for him to confess his sins, sure that he is hiding a longing for redemption, but Jack will not give in.

Reuten and Leysen both portray enigmatic characters as a mysterious assassin and Jack's controlling boss. Reuten comes off as equivocal, her intentions for Jack's building of a rifle ambiguous up until the end; while craggy-faced Leysen is a somewhat menacing control-freak who knows Jack all too well.

Based on the novel A Very Private Gentleman by Martin Booth, The American is definitely not a film for adrenaline junkies, made more for the artsy-fartsy crowd. It's ambitiously slow, carrying a multilayered story on its shoulders as well as high quality performances from Clooney and the rest of the cast, but will leave some viewers convinced that they've found a cure for insomnia. In a plethora of colours, The American is beige. And beige can look nice.

6/10