‘American’ does well not to copy ‘Bourne’

Violante Placido (left) and George Clooney star in “The American.” (Photo provided)

“The American”

2 1/2 stars

Rated: R for violence, sexual content and nudity

Running time: 1 hour, 43 minutes

Starring: George Clooney, Violante Placido, Thekla Reuten, Paolo Bonacelli

For at least five years, thrillers have copied the manic pacing and whipsaw editing of the Jason Bourne films. Not “The American,” which stars George Clooney. Director Anton Corbijn goes so far in the opposite direction, “The American” could be the anti-Bourne.

No fast cutting here. Corbijn holds his exquisitely composed shots for so long that watching “The American” could be a form of torture for Michael Bay.

Nor do frequent action scenes propel the plot. Rowan Joffe’s script contains a few shootouts and a brief chase (with Clooney on a motor scooter), but “The American” derives tension from the long, inexorable wait for the next violent episode.

The Bourne pictures were globe-hopping affairs, but after a quick opening in snowy Sweden, “The American” is content to hunker down in sunny Italy, specifically the medieval villages of the Abruzzo region.

About the only thing “The American” has in common is they both feature disillusioned antiheroes, but even there the differences are sharp. Matt Damon’s Bourne is constantly in motion, but Clooney’s Jack (which probably isn’t his real name) sits and broods a lot.

If Corbijn has crafted “The American” with an earlier thriller in mind, it would be “The Day of the Jackal,” the superb 1973 adaptation of Frederick Forsyth’s novel about an attempt to assassinate Charles DeGaulle.

Not coincidentally, the plots of both movies invest much time in the crafting of a custom-made rifle.

“The American” is a morose film, from the subdued colors of Martin Ruhe’s cinematography to the low piano chords of Herbert Grönemeyer’s score. However the studio may be advertising it, this is not an action movie. “The American” is actually a low-budget, independent film with major star in the lead role. It takes the parts we associate with a thriller and builds a character study. Jack’s loneliness permeates the production.

Jack is a man of violence who fears that his time may be running out, and that his life has been a hollow one. The press for the film has identified Jack as an assassin, but we don’t really know that. The script tells us nothing about his past, and it is more likely he has worked as a specialized gunsmith than a contract killer (the novel this is based on, Martin Booth’s “A Very Private Gentleman,” specifies the character as an exclusive arms dealer).

If Jack’s primary job is building guns, he also knows how to use them. He is enjoying a romantic getaway in a Swedish lodge when two professional killers ambush him. Jack dispatches them quickly enough, but unfortunately his girlfriend was a witness. So he shoots her in the back of the head.

Guilt-ridden, Jack flees to Rome, where his mysterious control, Pavel (Johan Leysen) rebukes him: “Don’t make any friends, Jack. You used to know that.”

Pavel sends Jack to hide in the hillside cities of Abruzzo to await his next job. Bored and lonely, Jack soon ignores the advice about friends. First the avuncular village priest, Father Benedetto (Paolo Bonacelli) latches on to Jack, sensing a man with a troubled soul. Then Jack takes up with a prostitute, Clara (Violante Placido), and her feelings for her grow beyond the professional.

In the midst of this, Jack gets his new assignment. A gorgeous assassin named Mathilde (Thekla Reuten) needs a combination submachine gun-sniper rifle. Jack can build it, but it will take a few weeks. And in that time, the Swedish killers might find him.

The notion of Swedish killers underscores the script’s very dry sense of humor. Another example is the movie’s title. “The American” is named ironically, because this is very much a European film, with European pacing and European sensibility (which includes prolonged nudity during the sex scenes). “The American” has European settings, a European director, a European crew and a European cast, with the exception of Clooney, a factor that further isolates his character.

For all that, “The American” isn’t far removed from Clooney’s last film, “Up in the Air.” There Clooney played a sad, lonely man facing a spiritual crisis because he is tired of firing people. Here he plays a sad, lonely man facing a spiritual crisis because he is tired of killing people. The increased amount of guilt leads to a more taciturn character, and the main reason to see “The American” is to watch Clooney’s performance, to see the usually glib actor create a character with little dialogue.

Corbijn’s intelligent and stern approach to the genre is admirable at first, but after a while it grows dull. One reason is the story doesn’t offer as much depth as the filmmaker’s seem to think. For a film with little dialogue, much of it becomes repetitive. Jack’s frequent conversations with Father Benedetto cover the same thematic ground, despite the priest’s one great line: “You cannot deny the existence of hell; you live in it.”

Worse, Corbijn often builds suspense for a dire moment that never comes. At some point he has to deliver on the peril, but he waits too long. If “The American” were 10 minutes shorter, it would be end up as more than an experiment in subverting Hollywood’s idea of a thriller.