The Washington Post reckons that the trailer for The American isn’t entirely misleading. “George Clooney brings his most somber, furrowed game face to the role of a hit man named Jack, who as the movie opens finds himself ambushed on an isolated, ice-covered Swedish lake. The odd gunshot notwithstanding, the scene transpires in almost complete silence. It turns out that both the setting and the soundtrack adequately anticipate the chilly study in solitude and emptiness that proceeds to unfold . . . Do the movies really need yet another hit man embarking on one last job before retiring into peaceful domesticity? Do they need another thug portrayed as a disciplined craftsman with the soul of an artist (in this case, expressed through a love of butterflies)?” I’m thinking . . . no.