Imagine you’re alone. Imagine you’re somewhere in the Italian countryside, building a custom weapon for some hitman. Imagine that you’re sad and bored, quietly falling for a prostitute. Imagine, too, that someone is trying to kill you. Sounds like a day in the life of Jason Bourne, which has thus far been entertainingly represented by Hollywood. But with The American, starring George Clooney, we as an audience aren’t so lucky.
This one drags on for far too long, and far too quietly to keep me engaged. Granted, the story has some artistic value (there’s subtext, tension and some underlying social commentary), but it’s a little too melancholy for my taste. I recommend you skip this one unless you’re writing a book report on Martin Booth’s “A Very Private Gentleman“, the novel on which the film is based.