by Chris Bodenner

Christopher Orr reviews the latest Clooney vehicle, The American:

A film so spare in its dialogue needs to offer meaning in its silences, and neither Corbijn nor the script (Rowan Joffe's adaptation of a Martin Booth novel) is quite up to the task. Jack's relationship with Father Benedetto never acquires the requisite moral gravity, nor his tryst with Clara the emotional consequence. And for all of Clooney's quiet charisma, his Jack remains a cipher, balanced awkwardly between the human and iconic.

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