Whoa There, Clooney...

Saw Anton Corbijn's The American today.  Even though George Clooney was pretty to look at, it was way too slow-paced and all in all pointless for me.  Some of the cuts seemed oddly timed.  Lots of moments were expected and obvious, as well as corny to the degree where I wanted to bash my head against the railing in front of me for large periods of time.  This was later topped by the urge to vomit in a paper bag because of the cliches that were mounting one on top of the other.  I could almost grasp the idea that a precious and intimate relationship between Clooney and the woman was supposed to blossom...'almost' being the key word.  It was unbelievable, whatever connection the two were supposed to have.  Clooney's character, as poker-faced and miserable as he was supposed to be, just was over-stoic.  Yet, we know from Up in the Air that he is capable of conveying understated emotions in a beautiful manner.  It wasn't seen here, though.  Waste of money.  Kept checking my watch.  Wanted to leave the movie.  Burst out in disbelieving laughter as the ending credits rolled.  Oh, but the scenery and architecture are gorgeous.