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But, of course, this movie works because of George Clooney. There may be no other actor as interesting to watch as he thinks. Jack’s mind is always going, even as he keeps a relatively stone faced exterior. Clooney says so much with his eyes and his body language, and even the tone of his voice, so much more effectively than most actors. He has always been able to sell that there’s a lot going on under the surface, and Jack is one of his best characters, easily on the level of Out of Sight’s Jack Foley or his title character in Michael Clayton. Jack is lost, at a crossroads in his life, and he’s a broken man in many ways. He sees possible redemption for himself in his relationship with Clara, maybe, as long as he can stop wondering if she’s a fellow assassin out to kill him.

Director Anton Corbijn and writer Rowan Joffé unfurl this story slowly, methodically, but never boringly. There’s not a wasted scene or even moment, really. Everything tells us something, as long as we’re paying attention. Corbijn’s photography here (along with cinematographer Martin Ruhe) is extraordinary. The movie is beautiful to look at, for sure, but it’s also framed so gorgeously and often in a way that assists the narrative. There are shots where there are things in the background that inform the foreground, or shots that show us the labyrinthine streets of the Italian mountain town, or ones that frame Clooney in a way that underscores what’s happening narratively. It’s a movie that could and should be studied by film students for the brilliance of the shot selection.

Corbijn’s allowance of silence in the movie is likely what turned off some viewers, but it’s what captivates me. He lets words hang in the air as we contemplate something as simple as two different people calling Jack “Mr. Butterfly.” Well, he has a butterfly tattooed on his upper back, which we’ve seen multiple times, but have both of these people seen it? Is it connection or coincidence that these separate people used those specific words? Jack doesn’t live in a world of coincidences. Other movies point out this kind of possible connection, but The American knows it made its point and doesn’t need to bash us over the head with it. It doesn’t insult our intelligence, it respects us as viewers.

Corbijn followed this with another spy story, 2014’s A Most Wanted Man, based on spy guru John le Carré’s novel. I haven’t seen it but want to, especially as it was the last starring role for Philip Seymour Hoffman, one of my all-time favorite actors. I love spy stuff, and The American has to go at or near the top of the heap for me. The Zen-like control of the movie, the cool restraint of Clooney’s performance, even the references to other spy movies (the code Mathilde wants on the briefcase that carries her gun, 014, is literally double O7). I think history will be kind to this Hidden Gem, much kinder than audiences were in 2010, as more people find it over the years divorced from the awful marketing that sold it as an action movie. It isn’t an action movie, but it is a great movie.

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