For a film called The American, this film feels extremely European in a brooding, independent sort of way. And although it features everyone's favorite born-in-the-USA homeboy George Clooney, I think most American audiences will find it just a wee bit too foreign. As much as both men and women love to look at Clooney's handsome, craggy face, part of his charm is the smile, the wit, the banter. All are painfully absent in this "thriller." It's long, it's slow and it's terse--a minimalist film with a maximum star, which is ultimately quite unsatisfying.

The American is basically Up in the Air without wings. In both films Clooney plays a professional hitman -- a terminator, if you will, who leads a solitary life void of personal attachments. But now he's traveling all over Europe instead of the US, and he's an instrument for ending people's lives, rather than their jobs. This is a very serious film, with not a moment of levity, although there is a dark and steamy sex scene that takes you away from the drawn out ponderousness of it all for a few moments.

It starts out promisingly enough, not unlike a James Bond film, in a cozy cabin in Sweden, fire blazing, bare naked lady draped across Jack's (or is it Edward's?) chest. We're left uncertain about the Clooney character's real name. Gun play and a chase through the snowy countryside ensue, but we never do get an explanation of who, what, when or why.

Instead the movie transfers to Italy, where Jack/Edward holes up in a remote yet scenic town, and accepts one last assignment. Yes, it is yet another tale of a hitman tiring of his lonely life and attempting to leave it all behind, and of course there is the obligatory hooker with a heart of gold and a body of perfection (the stunning Violante Placido) who may or may not come along for the ride.

There are plenty of insider nods to famous foreign and independent film, eg. a Sergio Leone movie playing on the television monitor in the cafe. But they're a little to few and esoteric to keep the average film goer interested. Blame it on Dutch director Anton Corbijn, who up to this point has worked mostly on rock projects, most notably Control, a somewhat obscure film about the British punk band Joy Division and its tragic lead singer Ian Curtis. It was a risk hiring Corbijn to direct a major American motion picture, especially one based on a small novel, A Very Private Gentleman, by Martin Booth.

Focus Features, now a division of Paramount, deserves major credit for continuing in their tradition of trying something artistic and original that goes against the grain of in-your-face American thrillers spewing obscene collateral damage and car chases without end. It's just that the American public is going to have a hard time appreciating those erudite efforts. Do we want to spend a night at the  movies watching something obscure and tedious, even if it does star George Clooney? Probably not. 

Rated R

--Lisa Johnson Mandell