Goodbye, Mr. Butterfly

There’s a scene in the second act of The American that becomes the turning point for our protagonist. Jack (or Edward) is sitting in a coffee shop reading the newspaper when Clara, the prostitute he has been frequenting, walks by with a friend. She spots him, taps on the window smiling, and goes inside to greet him. This is a chance encounter, not a meeting, and could only plausibly take place in a small Italian village where everyone knows everyone. But Jack, who has been conditioned to be suspicious of everyone, doesn’t believe in coincidences.

An Italian woman’s beauty should never be taken for granted and even against the ruthlessness of Clooney’s assassin, he is vulnerable to her charm. And while he never quite trusts her, he is on the backend of his professional life and wants to trust somebody. He’s spent a lifetime not getting close to people – as his handler, Pavel, says in the beginning, “Don’t make friends. You used to know that.” This reveals everything about the character; at one point he was impenetrable, a machine incapable of a false move. But that armor is waning, indicated in the opening scene of the film when he kills a woman he made the mistake of getting too close to. You see this conflict revealed between the man and his profession. What we don’t know yet is that the man is his profession, that there is no getting away from what he has become. This conflict is shown once he arrives in the Italian village. He befriends a priest and a prostitute, two of the least likely people that would betray him. He is still suspicious, especially of the prostitute, but it is apparent his desire for human connection won’t be ignored.

Thus we come to the scene in the coffee shop, where Clara the prostitute introduces Jack to her friend, who is studying English and wants to go to America. This is the first time we see Clara outside the brothel and by introducing Jack to her private life, she signifies to him that he is more than just a client. She tells him she is free later and he initially suggests they meet at their “usual spot.” But she plays coy, intimating that this is not an offer for her services but rather an invitation for something more. Jack has seen this before and believes everyone has ulterior motives, especially young beautiful women. But instead of stepping back, instead of retreating as he might’ve five years ago, he accepts her invitation. This becomes a pivotal moment in the story because he makes the choice to ignore Pavel’s warning and put himself at risk. Why? Why does he risk repeating what happened in Sweden? Because the isolation of the lone samurai is suffocating.

Everything after the coffee shop scene reveals he is done with his past life. The only time we see Jack smile are subsequent scenes with Clara, where there rests this possibility at redemption. At that moment he might as well have told Pavel that he’s quitting. The only thing he must confirm is her innocence. This duality is ever present, where Jack battles the assassin that he was against the man he wants to be. Once he confirms Clara’s innocence, once she has proven her sincerity, he thinks he can let go of his previous life.



What I love about this movie is that it takes a familiar genre, takes a predictable plot, and completely makes it about how the story is told, rather that what the story is. Of course we've seen this before. Of course we know the outcome. That's not the point! The point is the refreshing new way in which Anton Corbijn tackles this familiar character. It's the ultimate example of a film where style is the substance. And boy, what substance it is. The methodical detail, the consistency in tone, the assured pacing - it's masterful, confident filmmaking. We know so much about this character just by the way he behaves. He doesn't need to say anything because it is all shown. We feel his loneliness, we understand his inability to trust anyone. This character is similar to the characters Clooney has played before, most notably in Up in the Air and Michael Clayton. These are lonely, detached men who create a world of isolation for themselves as a means of protection. I'm reminded of the Paul Simon lyric, "I am a rock, I am an island. And a rock feels no pain. And an island never cries." These men put up a wall as a means of defense but at some point it becomes unfulfilling. It's a cynical outlook of course because for all three of these characters, there's a lack of hope. There is a resignation they all come to, where they have reached a point of no return and the only thing left is the achievement of their pursuits. Once achieved, there is nothing else. There is no going back. There is no getting off the island.


There has been some question as to when Jack knew he was being set up. After he takes Matilde to the woods to test the gun he’s made for her, she calls him Mr. Butterfly. There is some significance to this and the use of the butterfly as a symbol is present throughout the film. There is the butterfly tattoo on Jack’s back. When Matilde and Jack first arrive in the woods, there is a shot of a white butterfly perched on a leaf as the car drives up to the stream. This butterfly would return in the last shot of the film, flying into the trees as the film cuts to black. What does all this mean? I can’t say for sure. But I do know the reveal of her true intentions lie in her calling him Mr. Butterfly.

At the time, he recognizes it immediately. There is a shot of his reaction to her calling him Mr. Butterfly, a realization that she is not to be trusted. The following scene is of him altering the bullets, filing off the tips and melding new tips. What is the purpose of this? We know they’ve already completed the test of the gun and she has instructed him with very specific adjustments, none of which involved altering the bullets. So we are left to assume he’s doing this on his own and it is only after we reach the conclusion that we realize what he was doing.

After that meeting with Matilde, Jack realizes Pavel has been guilty all along. Pavel has been telling the Swedes of his location, Pavel has sent Matilde to kill him. So then the question becomes about Clara – is she involved? The old Jack would drop everything and leave. The old Jack would probably have killed Clara, just to be sure. But he’s not the assassin he once was. He wants to believe Clara loves him. This is why he asks Pavel for two more days – to find out if he can leave with her.

One of my favorite scenes in the film is at the end, during the exchange of the gun. Pavel has been told by Jack that he is quitting and so he instructs Matilde that it is imperative to kill him immediately. The meeting is set up so eloquently, so precisely, that both parties know exactly what is going on. In a cruel bit of irony, I love how Jack packs the faulty bullets in a candy container, “I thought you’d like some candy.” When Matilde gets up to go to the restroom, Jack is on full alert. The waitress and two other patrons in the restaurant exit, as if they know exactly what is about to happen. Do they? Are they part of the grand scheme? Or is Jack being overly paranoid? In the end, it doesn’t really matter and I think it’s more for our benefit than for Jack’s, a sort of ode to scenes from movies that have that kind of setup suspense. By the time she returns, he walking out the door, hand in pocket. Do we need a close up of his pocket, indicating he’s holding a gun? Of course not. We know what’s going on. She knows what’s going on – all she needs to do is dismiss it, “You don’t need a gun.” The key to the scene, which is a kind of concealed, passive aggressive Mexican standoff, is not when the bus pulls up. The key is later, when Matilde gets in her car and says, “Goodbye Mr. Butterfly”, essentially admitting her mistake earlier in the film.