The American

Lord help us all. George Clooney is going to have to learn to work a little harder. This morose and boring film indulges itself and its star at every point. It's chock full of Italians because it really takes place in Italy. You just aren't going to believe half-no, make that MOST, of it. If you can ever figure out what it is really about. The first twenty minutes are your cue that you might want to go to another theatre and slip into another film, because the movie does NOT get better. Clooney must have thought this slow and deliberate crap (sans explanation of any motive or real plot) would escalate him into the rank of artsy. Instead, you sit for almost two hours wishing you had one of his guns and you could put a few holes in the screen before you scream you've had enough. I want my money back. And I might write Mr Clooney at his environmentally friendly villa (sarcasm here) on Lake Como and ask for him to send me $18. OH yeah, plus popcorn, so $116. You get to see another side of Italy, but it's kind of same old same old. You will be asked to believe that no one is on the streets of the small towns in Italy where police seem not to really notice the bodies around, and you will be asked to believe that an incredibly gorgeous young woman could be a two bit hooker because no one will have her. Jeez louise. Tedious. Awful. Period. I am giving it no stars because Clooney is too experienced to pull this mess on us.