Respectfully rendered adaptation of Martin Booth's meditation on the last days on ths job for a secretive enabler of hits, assassinations, etc. As much of the book is first person, it's hard to fault Clooney for failing at times to convey the full depth of the writer/protagonist's growing attachment to the Italian village, and possible normalcy, after a life of hiding and running. Alas, the ending was changed to suit someone, completely upending Booth's fine tale.

Nothing happens in this movie until the last 10 minutes. It's all just basically Clooney with naked women and some talking in a cafe.

Look I love Die-hard and Mission Impossible and , yes Beethoven .But you see a movie like this and you realize what the language of cinema really is. The deliberate use of the camera as a medium to tell a story not just to record images. The space to absorb the experience and appreciate the stunning cinematography.This is Day of the Jackal (the original) but in this case the assassin is not seen as just one dimensional. We really feel what this guy is going through without his having to tell us. Kind of reminds me of the writing of Elmore Leonard where the story drives the characterization. Here the camera does. This is similar in my opinion to the cinematic characterization of Scotty (Jimmy Stewart) in Vertigo.I watch a lot of Grade A junk because hey its fun. But then you hit a Tarantino movie or a Wes Anderson movie or HItchock film like Vertigo and you realize what cinematic story telling is.And when is Clooney gonna get some kind of Oscar. From a kid on an ER show to his movie chops he must get something out of it!

For the longest time, The American collected dust on the tail end of my Netflix queue. The film was marketed as an action thriller of the James Bond variety. It looked to be fun, mindless excitement, full of sex and violence. It wasn't anything of the sort.What I got was a slow-burning character study wrapped in the guise of a spy movie. The film is a far cry from the loud, balls-to-the-wall action that we have become accustomed to expect from the genre. Instead, it is quiet and introspective, beautiful and touching, with an almost hypnotic pace that transfixes the viewer from the first frame until the credits roll.The action scenes that we do see are not loud, expensive set pieces, but quiet, tense affairs. They are masterfully executed, and despite their understated nature, they will leave you with your heart racing.The entire film is undercut by a deep, desperate loneliness. We see a man dwarfed by the landscape around him, isolated and alone. The plot is nothing new: the classic "last job" storyline. The magic of this film comes in its execution. Clooney's performance, like the film itself, is transfixing; he is restrained yet powerful, exploring the depths of love and loneliness with a subtlety and sophistication that I did not know he was capable of. His turn as this film's hero, a laconic hit-man who has tired of his life of danger and intrigue, is one of if not the best performance of his career.In the end, although this film was widely panned as 'boring' or 'too slow,' that was mostly a product of expectation rather than any flaws in the film itself. The American is breathtaking visually, musically, and emotionally, and overall it is a brilliant piece of cinema. Time will be kind to it, and I like to think it will one day get the attention it deserves.