Rise of the Planet of the Apes

Rise of the Planet of the Apes is not to be associated with Tim Burton’s 2001 remake of Planet of the Apes. This is a completely different venture, looking to act a starting point from which any number of sequels could surely follow. On paper, director Rupert Wyatt appears to have been handed a difficult task- reimagining a franchise that first powered its way into Hollywood forty years ago and capturing the minds of a new generation. In reality, he’s taken that difficult task and created what will be remembered as one of the hits of the summer.

James Franco plays Will Rodman, a scientist working on a cure for neurological diseases. The inspiration behind his work is his father Charles (John Lithgow), suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. Using chimpanzees as test subjects, his five years work has now culminated in a virus that repairs brain cells, and in fact improves the intelligence of the recipient. However, following an aggressive attack by one of the subjects at a crucial moment in a company presentation, he is ordered to cease his work and to kill the remaining chimpanzees. Upon discovering the new born of said aggressive chimp, he names it Caesar and decides to adopt it as his own, thus continuing his work from home. What follows is the story of the development and rise to prominence of Caesar (Anthony Serkis) himself.

Rise is divided into three parts, and in offers a very distinct beginning, middle and end. The beginning focuses on Caesar’s integration with the human world, at first revelling in the marvels of his existence but then realising that there is so much more out there. The middle section of the film sees Caesar struggle with his identity during an encapsulation period, and finds integration with the other chimpanzees a daunting prospect. That said, his intelligence proves to be an insurmountable advantage. This leads us to the third and final part of the film, documenting Caesar’s rise as he attempts to leads his fellow primates to their freedom.

From the opening scene it is obvious that there will be a strong focus on the development of the primates, as we are shown hunters gathering up chimpanzees from their natural environment, and shipping them off to be experimented on. It is no secret as to where this franchise is eventually heading, be it in the inevitable sequel or further down the line, so the challenge for Wyatt is really in the telling of the evolutionary journey.

And for something that had the potential to be messy, it is expertly handled through a series of delicate moments during Caesar’s formative years. In fact, Rise becomes as much about Caesar’s coming of age as anything else, with his inability to speak allowing for some deep moments with Rodman - one in particular where he questions his own personal origins. The evolution is visually complete following a very tender scene in which Charles Rodman’s affliction is deteriorating and he is attempting to eat a fried egg with the back of his fork. Caesar slowly reaches out and turns the fork around, to the stunned silence of the father and son pairing that are present.

It is that kind of subtle crafting that really propels Rise above your standard summer blockbuster, and without the reliance on the apes this would not be possible. In all honestly, Caesar’s tale is remarkable, although not something we have not seen before. It is a standard fitting-in story, a person alone and attempting to find his place. His supporting cast are equally as stereotypical. There’s the wise go-to-guy, a performing orangutan named Maurice. And the hot headed muscle in the form of Buck the Gorilla. Not to mention Caesar’s initial rival, the playground bully Alpha. All that is really missing is a cringe worthy love story, but thankfully that was not to be.

Although the names of France, Pinto and Lithgow will be emblazoned across the various posters and dvd cases that see release, the apes provide the real cast using motion capture technology, courtesy of the Peter Jackson founded Weta visual effects studio. Although stereotypical, the characters offer a different feel to proceedings, and it is certainly interesting to see the chimps rise and overcome all the odds stacked against them. And Caesar certainly steals the show, with an amazingly humanistic feel to his performance.

Of the human characters, only Lithgow really stands out. His portrayal of Rodman senior is compelling and well rounded, and the vulnerability that he displays allows a memorable performance as a very likeable character. Franco’s performance is good but with little to showcase his own abilities as he did in 127 Hours, his bond with Caesar is strong but borne out of necessity rather than friendship, and that seriously impinges on what could have been a very strong relationship. His love interest Caroline Aranha (Freida Pinto), provides little other than a whole lot of standing around, and the role is a far cry from Slumdog Millionaire.

The supporting cast is a predictable mixture of good and bad, with a flat performance from Brian Cox (John Landon- the owner of the holding facility for chimps) eclipsed only be a very poor David Oyelowo. As a supposedly powerful man in charge of Will and his experiments he lacks any form of charisma whatsoever, rendering his character worthless. On a more positive note Tom Felton does well as an angry, snarling and unlikeable Dodge Landon, while David Hewlett does a great impression of a neighbour from hell, playing Hunsiker, who is a constant danger to the harmony of the Rodman household.

As far as science fiction goes “Planet of the Apes” (La Planète des singes) is up there with the best of them, and in an age governed by technology Pierre Boulle’s novel is just as thought provoking nowadays as it would have been back in 1963 when it was released. In fact, given modern biological and scientific advances it is perhaps more thought provoking now than ever before. It seems then that there is no better time than the present for a Hollywood reboot. The fact is, although farfetched, it is still a plausible scenario in the current age. Luckily, Rise doesn’t go down the route of providing an in-your-face warning, and the destructive force of technology remains nothing more than an undercurrent.

As much as this acts as an origin story, it is also a very watchable standalone film. It is certainly far better than many will have expected, and not laden with pointless action scenes which would have weighed it down. That said, the siege sequence towards the finale is intelligent and brilliantly crafted, and far more enjoyable than most seen in a summer blockbuster. The apes are a welcome reprieve from the expected norms, and the story is both well paced and well poised. Pity about the humans, though.

Rating:

4 / 5

Black Swan

Black Swan tells the tale of how a ballet dancer struggles to perfect her role in time for her debut performance as the star in “Swan Lake”, or at the very least a variation on it. It also has the potential to be remembered as director Darren Aronofsky’s signature piece, a shameless amalgamation of his previous works. In the mould of his 2008 Oscar nominated film The Wrestler, it is an intimate character piece, in which we are forced to watch a person put their body through various extremes to please an audience. In a similar manner to Pi it is a paranoid thriller, and it also mimics the analytical openness of The Fountain and the examination of a twisted human mind that is shown in Requiem for a Dream. And in combining these elements he has created something of a masterpiece.

The film centres heavily on Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman), and her manner is depicted during the opening scenes in which she dances beautifully, only to reveal the pain and suffering thrust upon her by her swollen, cut and sore feet. It is her sacrifice and one that she is willing to make for her profession. Her home life also tells a lot about her character. Living only with her deranged mother Erica (Barbara Hershey), a strong presence both on screen and in the life of Nina, she is pampered and looked after like a little child, her innocence superseded only by her focus and dedication to her work. She is a delicate girl living a sheltered existence, sacrificing a more balanced lifestyle in exchange for a chance at her dream. She is the proverbial white swan.

However, underneath the existential “white swan” purity displayed by Nina, there is a different side to her, a darker side. It is not entirely clear if she herself is aware of this- some signs certainly point to a deliberate rejection of her other half- but either way the “black swan” of her persona is repressed, and locked away. Ironically, it is this side to her that she must unlock to fully unleash her potential as a dancer, and to perfect her role in the ballet.

As one would expect this psychological duality eventually begins to take its toll, and it is through her journey of discovery that she begins to lose her mental stability. The pressure on her character is understandably immense; it is essential she transcends herself to achieve the perfection that she craves, or else ruin her shot at the big time. As a result of this her descent into madness is as shocking as it is rapid, and she experiences numerous visions of defections to her physicality; the mildest of which being the peeling off of her finger and toenails, and culminating in a complete breakdown of her limbs. In fact, the sprinklings of aural and visual displeasure utilised to display her deformation are so revolting that Black Swan could easily be afforded a borderline horror classification, a good summation of the manner in which the director’s vision has been put together.

The white swan/ black swan mirroring of the protagonist provides a good starting point for much of the psychosis that occurs with Nina, in a literal sense there are mirrors everywhere. Aside from the obvious practical use for routines, it is also no coincidence that Portman’s character spends so long in the presence of a mirror, if not dancing then examining a mysterious rash on her back. Each one echoes the innocent Nina’s movement, coercing her dark side to make an appearance- encouraging it’s arrival into existence.

With all this in mind, it is Natalie Portman’s portrayal of Nina which will long live in the memory, almost certain to be consigned to history as the winner of the Best Actress Oscar. From her early days in Leon, to a trilogy of Star Wars films, and many other successful projects such as V for Vendetta and Closer, it is clear that although she has never been honoured at the highest level, she is a very talented actor. This time she offers a superb multi-layered exposé of a very troubled young lady, and in particular it is her display of emotional fragility which is frequent, believable, and outstanding.

It is career defining stuff, not least because it becomes difficult to distinguish between the actor and the character, with the latter merely mirroring Natalie Portman on screen. An obvious comparison would be to say that as much as Portman garners our attention throughout, Nina is attracting the same attention from her world within the film. Both are the sole star, both are asked to do very demanding roles, and both come with a lot of media attention.

On top of this, both are subjected to the physical pains of ballet- Portman herself trained in dance for around a year before shooting (although she didn’t do all of the dancing herself), as well as the mental and emotional strains that you would expect to come with such an intense role. In a sense, this takes us beyond cinema and film; it is almost documentary- A reimagining of Portman’s life, a subtext to the real world.

There is far more to the piece than just Portman’s stunning performance however, and Aronofsky’s stylistic choices are to be applauded. His depiction of the world of ballet is both bold and remarkable, attempting to dismantle age old connotations of a “dream” profession in a fairytale world. The once fabulous, entertaining and grandiose vocation is quickly replaced by a harsh reconstruction of the reality of show business; it is a dark, seedy, painful and monotonous one with little chance of success and where the beauty on show is merely a facade covering up the desperate reality that lies beneath. Shattered dreams indeed, encapsulated in convention challenging abundance.

This nightmarish world is not only dark emotionally, but also visually. The presence of Nina’s repressed dark side loom over her more and more through the film, and this is visually represented by Aronofsky through the use of the ethereal darkness of the theatre and its rehearsal space. Whether it is shadows, empty seats or merely the bleak walls, a combination of these factors along with the gritty manner in which Black Swan is shot provides a constant reminder of the world Nina finds herself in.

For all the miserable darkness and pain though, there is also the brilliance. Every minute spent in the shadows rehearsing after hours is more than compensated for by the slick black tie gatherings, and of course the opening gala. It is this type of contrast which is forced upon the viewing audience at every turn. Contrasts are present in abundance from the dark rehearsals and the fantastically colourful and visual extravaganza of the stage, to the elegance of the dancers in comparison to their battered and pained bodies, even down to Nina’s virginal dress code against Lily’s threatening black attire; the constant allusion to the black / white swan doppelganger is there.

And clothing aside, Lily provides the physical embodiment of this. She has all of the attributes lacking in Nina; she is a wild, passionate, free spirited, outgoing girl, the opposite in every way to Nina’s reserved, sheltered and withdrawn demeanour. Her freedom is shown off proudly to everyone in the form of a large tattoo on her upper back –resembling black wings of course, and naturally enough she dances the black swan effortlessly.

In the middle of this austere world is a man called Tomas Leroy (Vincent Cassell), the director of the production. As Nina was his choice, it becomes his responsibility to force a transformation upon her in whatever means possible, while also gaining as much as he can from his position of power. Acting almost as a God figure, the world around him is what he makes it and his constant watchful eye over proceedings allows a special presence- one of a very powerful man. It is hardly surprising that he has a history of using the girls to his own satisfaction, particularly in the case of the emotional and outdated Beth Mcintyre (Winona Ryder) however it appears as though his reputation is untarnished – or at the very least not spoken of in public places. His forwardness and uninhibited approach to sexuality acts as the catalyst to Nina’s change, opening her eyes to a wider world- at least in a sexual sense.

Black Swan is a memorable and original film that is more than deserving of the plaudits that come its way. It is perhaps a little too open-ended for some people, and the mix of gritty realism with the lunacy-induced special effects may take from the overall experience. The performance of Portman is something that will be talked about for years to come, but the supporting cast is equally impressive as a unit, offering a unique life and feel to the world in which Nina is a part of. Overall it is an outstanding psychological thriller, and one that will quite rightly be remembered as one of the films of 2011.

Rating:

5/5

127 Hours

It is impossible to not be in absolute awe of Danny Boyle’s versatility as a director. Whereas most stick to a genre they know best, he seems to effortlessly bounce from one to the next, always with a large degree of success- from the hard hitting crime drama of Trainspotting, to the devastating science fiction of 28 Days Later and Sunshine. His previous film was the brilliant Slumdog Millionaire, which won eight Oscars, including a Best Director award for Boyle, and naturally that success demands a greater attention and focus on his subsequent works.

So when you hear that 127 Hours is about the thrill seeking Aron Ralston (James Franco) who gets trapped under a boulder and has to decide whether or not to live or die in a canyon, you can’t help but feel a little sceptical about the potential for both personal and box office success.

After all, the film has only one character of note. Having no one to interact with for much of the hour and half runtime goes against the very fibre of cinematic convention, not to mention that there is no physical movement of the character- he is trapped, stuck in a hole. And there’s not even scope for a hero to turn up and save the day at the last minute, as the film is based on “Between a Rock and a Hard Place”, the true life recounting of the event by the real life Aron Ralston.

With the focus entirely on Franco, his performance is imperative to the success of the film. Acting aside, at the very least he looks the part- his rugged, messy exterior fitting his characters love of the outdoors lifestyle perfectly. On top of this, Franco is a likeable person. On screen he appears good fun, only interested in enjoying life and getting as much out of it as he possibly can. He has a rare allure that compels you to watch him, something which has eluded him in previous roles.

More than this though, his performance is simply outstanding. Portraying a vast range of emotion from his usual jovial carefree manner to his journey through what is basically the seven stages of grief and everything that comes with that. He appears genuine, believable, honest, and it is easy to imagine everything that the real life Ralston went through as he plotted his survival. At the very least this is Oscar nomination stuff, every bit the intricate character study that so nearly earned Mickey Rourke the award for his lead role in The Wrestler, and perhaps this has even more potential.

The development and evolution of the aforementioned emotions are cleverly shown through the use of a video camera, one of Ralston’s “essentials” for the journey. As he plays back his recording for sheer entertainment as he remains trapped, it allows a very intimate and detailed account of the character. Beginning with his encounter with two random women Kristi (Kate Mara) and Megan (Amber Tamblyn), to whom he offers his services as a guide- it then springboards to a documentation of his survival. How much water is left, how little food he has, his failing bodily functions and even minor details such as the time of sunrise and how much sunlight he receives; all of which pale in comparison to his heartfelt messages intended for his family and friends, should the camera ever be found. Not to mention providing a platform for a fantastic comedy scene to keep the mood buoyant even as the realisation of his mortality is upon him.

This kind of positive manner in which Ralston goes about his duties allows for a great sense of hope from start to finish, a theme which Boyle is more than familiar with. Regardless of how desperate things seem, our hero clings on to whatever hope he can muster. Maybe he’ll be found, rescued, maybe there’ll be rainfall from which the boulder may erode, maybe he will move it himself using the series of ropes that he has, or maybe he will chip away at it enough to free himself. It doesn’t matter how unlikely these outcomes are- the basic instinct of survival is shown, water and food are conserved, and the priority is remaining alive long enough for any kind of intervention.

Naturally enough the tale is also one of incredible irony, which perhaps contributes to the light-heartedness of the overall piece. Ralston didn’t bother to tell anyone where he was going, not even his mother as he evades her phone call before he leaves. He also did not bring all of his food and drink with him on his journey, leaving a tasty bottle of Gatorade along with some oranges in the back of his truck. He even couldn’t find his Swiss army knife- he may well have if he bothered to look properly. Even down to the fact that he leaves the tap dripping as he exits his home, when in three short days a drop of water would be the equivalent of a winning lotto ticket to his ailing body.

Most of these details can be accredited to the real life Ralston, and his own adventure. In terms of the actual story there is not much scope to play around with it, given that it has already happened and has been recounted. This limits Boyle’s job to a certain extent, leaving him with the difficult task of how to build on the plight of our protagonist.

One of the most effective methods of enhancing the situation comes through the contrasting images of freedom and captivity which run throughout. This is noticeable from the very opening sequence (and indeed the closing, providing a nice frame to the piece), which shows a montage of various groups of people going about their daily business in the company of many others. It is fair to say that unless you specifically seek a hermit existence it is impossible to be “alone” in your day to day travels, an obvious contrast to Ralston’s situation. This is further built on throughout the film, insects, birds, even the hallucination of a series of jets passing overhead- all enhance Ralston’s isolation.

It is also hard not to notice the accompanying soundtrack, particularly as Boyle’s previous film was so heavily lauded for its achievement in sound- winning Oscars for Best Original Score, Best Original Song, Best Achievement in Sound, as well as receiving nominations for a second Best Original Song and Sound Editing. And once more we are subjected to a fascinating blend of both music and sound engineering- the latter particularly during the crucial scene in which Ralston attempts to earn his freedom.

It is hard to ignore the musical choice, as from the very first scene we are subjected to a hard hitting piece entitled Never Hear Surf Music Again by a band called Free Blood, again emphasising the togetherness of common society. Aside from the hilarious inclusion of the Scooby Doo theme tune, and the classic Bill Withers song Lovely Day, A.R. Rahman again collaborates with Boyle to compose a series of pieces which reflect the tone of the film masterfully- not to mention the immense finale in conjunction with Dido, If I Rise. It is yet one more aspect that the director has tuned to perfection.

It is not all fun and games, as you could imagine. Being trapped in a canyon for 127 very long, thirsty hours is not anyone’s idea of a good weekend. Not to mention one very difficult to watch scene as the film nears the conclusion. However, for a film that could easily be so difficult and harrowing to watch it is surprisingly upbeat, funny and overall one of the most uplifting films you are likely to see, and this is surely the greatest achievement of an outstanding piece of filmmaking. Danny Boyle has done it again.

Rating:

5/5

The Way Back

The Way Back is the epic tale of a group of men from very different backgrounds and personal circumstances escape a gulag in Siberia, and walk to India. A very simplistic view of the film, not least because India is roughly 4000 miles from Siberia, they must escape the inescapable, navigate through miles upon miles of forestry without any navigation tools, hunt for food and water, and all the while avoiding recapture by any of the communist nations surrounding them. But at it’s most simple, they go on a big walk.

The inspiration within the group comes from Janusz (Jim Sturgess), imprisoned for twenty years in the gulag as a result of a statement signed by his wife against her will- swearing that he is anti-communist, anti-Stalin and above all else a spy for foreign countries. Unsurprisingly he is not impressed at the thought of spending twenty years eating slop and breaking rocks. He is a soldier on the other side of the fence, and he has no intention of remaining that way.

Crucially he meets the American Mr. Smith (Ed Harris) as he queues for food, and his first bond is formed. Regardless of how insignificant it seems at the time at the time, Smith is vital to the quest. He is an experienced, wily and respected figure, and his standing is shown during a snowstorm in which he leads the group of both inmates and guards to sheltered safety from the extreme weather conditions. Smith’s importance to Janusz comes at an early stage, as he introduces him to the workings of the gulag community- most notably the fact that it is run by the criminals, and pretty much anything goes.

Spurned on by the supposedly similar escape plans held by Khabarov (Mark Strong), Janusz gathers food and puts together an elaborate escape plan, and as word gets around the group increases in number. Now comprising of Janusz, Smith, Latvian Priest Voss (Gustaf Skarsgård), “funny” Yugoslav accountant Zoran (Dragus Bucur), erotic artist Tomasz (Alexandru Potocean, a 17 year old night blind Pole called Kazik (Sebastian Urzendowsky), and an insane Russian criminal Valka (Colin Farrell), they escape during a heavy snowstorm, minus the actor Khabarov, who had no plan to escape all along.

Now the journey begins in earnest. One step at a time, they first plan to travel to Lake Baikal, and then onwards to Mongolia. And for a while, it is riveting. From the first night spent as free men sheltered amongst the trees from the harsh weather conditions, to a little further down the line when they have become lost; hiding in a cave, hungry, thirsty, with one member ill and the rest severely disheartened - each scene offers a new danger, a new challenge, a new obstacle to overcome.

Also with each passing scene there is a reminder of the hardships of nature. Freezing conditions, endless snow, unbearable heat, miles upon miles of desert sands, sandstorms, massive jungles, mosquitoes, wolves,and the obvious lack of natural food resources and water. The adverse conditions have the obvious effects on the group, with a constant theme of suffering running throughout.

That said, there are only so many times you can watch and care about the characters starving, gasping, stumbling, collapsing and carrying one another before it becomes repetitive. Not excruciatingly so, but enough to have you checking your watch, particularly in the final third. It becomes almost frustrating that there is always just one more forest to cross, or one more mountain range to traverse, it feels as though it’s more of a chore to the group as they laugh and flippantly extend their journey a few hundred miles at a time.

As well as this, for all the hardship that is endured, the threat of recapture becomes slim to none far too early in the journey, eliminating any sub plot that could have been formed. That is perhaps an artistic choice, as the film is based on the novel The Long Walk: The True Story of a Trek to Freedom (1956), which claims to be a true recollection of the proceedings from one of the original survivors, Slawomir Rawicz. It is possible that Weir didn’t want to fabricate occurrences which had not already been claimed, and for resisting the temptation of sensationalism he should be applauded.

At the end of the day this is a film about a group of people with a common goal, and each and every actor does their bit to ensure it is a solid acting performance. However, it is Colin Farrell who absolutely steals the show. Every time he features on screen, his charisma echoes loudly and his presence eclipses the rest of the cast. From an early scene where he stabs a fellow inmate for confronting him he grabs our attention, offering a mixed bag of mental instability and comic relief, and due to both his background and demeanour he appears as an obvious threat to the travelling pack.

As important as Farrell’s character is to the group (mainly down to his knife, the only weapon that they possess), equally important is Saoirse Ronan’s Irena- a young Polish girl who attemps to join the group by spinning a sob story about her life. Having joined the group, her chatty ways allow her to extract personal information from each character, and relay it to the others at appropriate times. Her sociable nature is the catalyst for relationships and bonds to really develop amongst the men, and strong friendships are formed as a result. She also backs up her role with a very impressive performance of steely resolve and childlike innocence, pointing towards a bright future in the industry.

Excluding the aforementioned characters, the most memorable aspect of The Way Back is the fantastic use of establishing shots. A whole array of visually stunning landscapes are captured, with a broad spectrum of everything nature has to offer on show- from the showy mountains to the sprawling dessert, beautifully shot with extremely vivid colours, the landscapes provide images that will remain long after the credits roll. Aside from looking good though, the landscapes play a pivotal role in the story itself, providing a constant reminder of the seemingly endless, exhausting journey that is in progress.

Overall The Way Back represents both some excellent performances and filmmaking, depicting an age old story of true friendship and determination to succeed and conquer against all the odds. Unfortunately it is also far too tedious at times, which makes it seem a little flat, one dimension and boring. It is possible that this comes as a result of telling the audience how the film will end during the opening intertitles, resulting in a lull as it trudges towards the conclusion, but that alone isn’t enough to completely ruin a very good film.

Rating:

3/5

The American

Up until now, director Anton Corbijn’s career has revolved around the music industry. With a CV dominated by documentaries and video compilations of Depeche Mode, U2 and Metallica, and his first feature film Control (2007) biographically depicting the life of Joy Division front man Ian Curtis, The American represents his first foray away from his comfort zone. And of course, having George Clooney on board as your lead role is hardly a bad start.

Adapted from the 1990 Martin Booth novel “A Very Private Gentleman”, The American follows Jack (Clooney), an American assassin who is forced to lay low in the small Italian town of Castlevecchio, following a surprise attempt on his life during a morning excursion in a remote Swedish cabin with Ingrid (Irina Björklund), a girlfriend of his. Laying low in Italy is not as straightforward as it may seem however, with Jack instantaneously moving to the nearby town of Castel del Monte, taking on a mysterious job for his boss, discovering that every town has its secrets, and of course finding time for the obligatory love story.

One of the first thing that we notice (aside from Björklund’s modesty), is the determination of Corbijn to create the most beautiful looking piece that he possibly can. He achieves this in style, with the picturesque establishing shots highlighting the beauty of the scenic landscape available. These postcard visuals also serve a purpose in terms of the story, acting as an obvious contrast to the dangerous and imperfect life led by Jack. The impressive locational visuals also act as a constant reminder of the opening sequence, where danger lurks within these idyllic surroundings.

In fact, we see these surroundings quite often. Devoid of any visible life, they act as the canvas from which Corbijn paints a masterpiece of emptiness. The towns that we see have few inhabitants, the restaurants likewise, and with little to no traffic for the most part it appears as though Clooney’s has plenty of space within which to disappear. Considering his own lack of possessions- a backpack and a Fiat Tempra provided by his boss Pavel (Johan Leysen), it should not prove all that difficult. The emptiness exuded by the location and his lack of possessions is further channelled through Jack, who has decided to opt out of his profession in exchange for a normal life, and love in particular, which evades him.

During his trip to the local brothel, Jack becomes besotted by local hooker Clara (Violate Placido), following an encounter of love, and not lust as one would expect. Clara is a curious character, a free spirit who appears surprisingly intelligent and with a knowledge of the outside world: depicted through a single comment regarding “small town people” during a meal with Jack, and of course her very advanced handle of the English language. Despite warnings from Pavel not to let anyone become close to him, Jack has found his love interest, amidst a whole lot of suspicion- she could quite easily be an assassin herself.

The American is not an entirely different project from Corbijn’s previous works, as it is a slow paced character driven piece, looking at Clooney’s life as closely and as intimately as any self respecting biographer would. This slow pace initially serves a very fine purpose. For quite a while it seems as though someone is always watching, our protagonist can never be sure who to trust, and we await a major incident, ANY major incident, to occur. As time passes though, the film grinds to a standstill, with very little happening in the way of entertainment, leaving a longwinded mid film lull. This forces us to engage more with Jack and considering the film in entitled The American, and Clooney plays said American, it is less than surprising that our sole focus is on him, and nothing else.

Clooney’s character is perfectly crafted, and his appearance as the suave, discerning gentleman that we have seen throughout his Hollywood career allows a him to be one of the most likeable hitmen in cinema history, notably because he is portrayed so innocently. Never does he kill unless he is threatened, he is always the victim. Never do we see him partake in a hit, he is the assassin without the assassination. Haunted by his profession, he wants freedom, he wants love, he wants peace, quiet, beauty and butterflies.

Despite this he still has a job to do, however sceptical he may be, and his final task involves the construction of a highly specific and customised rifle. This process leaves us in no doubt as to the great level of expertise at which he operates. He is an exceptional craftsman, slowly and almost painstakingly making each construction, and each adjustment, throughout the course of the film. Although this is again longwinded and perhaps takes up too much screen time, the rifle is central to the how to the story plays out, and it also offers a further glimpse into the demeanour of Jack: professional, talented, dedicated, and intelligent.

Aside from Jack and Clara, and the female assassin for which Jack fashions the rifle, the only other character of note is a local priest, Father Benedetto (Paolo Bonacelli), who acts as the all-seeing eye and an apparent beacon of wisdom with which Jack interacts. Although it is not a bad thing to have such a minimalistic cast, it adds to that constant barren feeling that lingers from scene to scene.

The American is neither a masterpiece nor is it an embarrassment. It is a fantastic looking film, not only for the landscape on show, but also for the very deliberate use of monochromatic lighting- reds for the lusty brothel, yellows under the night time street lights and blues for the local coffee shop; there is no doubt that Corbijn has a strong artistic eye. Likewise, his biographical background allows him to create an intriguing and likeable protagonist. Having said that, the pace is simply too slow at times, and not everyone will be content with the emptiness on show from beginning to end.

Rating:

3/5