Review: The International (2009)

The International (2009)

1.5

ACTION/THRILLER
U.S. Release Date: 02/13/09
Running Length: 118 Minutes
MPAA Classification: R (Violence and Language)
Theatrical Aspect Ratio: 2:35 : 1
Cast: Clive Owen, Naomi Watts, Armin Mueller-Stahl, Ulrich Thomsen
Director: Tom Tykwer
Screenplay: Eric Singer
Cinematography: Frank Griebe
Music: Reinhold Heil, Johnny Klimek, Tom Tykwer
U.S. Distributor: Columbia Pictures

Review by: Carter Moulton

02/13/09

Sure, we’re in a recession, but banks are more powerful than ever—at least in The International. It’s a story about greed, authority, and the one rebel willing to deliver justice. That rebel is named Louis Salinger, played by Clive Owen, unsurprisingly. Owen takes his coffee black and his trench coats long. See Sin City, Children of Men or even Shoot ‘Em Up if you want to see a more satisfying movie starring Owen as the rugged hero.

Salinger is an Interpol Agent who teams up with Manhattan Assistant District Attorney Eleanor Whitman (Naomi Watts, who can be seen in King Kong, The Ring) to investigate a scandal involving IBBC, the world’s most powerful bank. IBBC is misusing its power, buying out nations, covering up assassinations for political reasons, and money laundering. The screenplay (written by Eric Singer) uses big words to hide its mediocrity, but I would’ve preferred mediocrity to complete confusion. By the time I figured out the plot, I was far past the point of caring.

Another problem with the script is that almost every scene features a bold one liner or an “insightful” life lesson. At one point Salinger (in conversation with Whitman) says that life is about knowing which bridges to cross and which bridges to burn. He tells her, “I’m the bridge you burn.” The film is stuffed with phrases like “this is our last chance” and “this is for justice!” It’s exhausting.

The International’s opening is a scene meant to thrill, but, unfortunately, when compared to Children of Men (it’s hard not to draw a comparison, especially with Clive Owen snarling at the lens), it comes off as forced and unimaginative. Director Tom Tykwer (Perfume: The Story of a Murderer) needs to be subtler with his foreshadowing; everyone in the theater knew the twists. But I will say, most of the blame lies with the convoluted—but ultimately hollow—screenplay. Tykwer does some good work here, especially with a shootout sequence midway through the film.

Naomi Watts is a great actress, don’t get me wrong (see 21 Grams or King Kong), but her performance in this film isn’t one to be remembered. Perhaps it’s because of the flimsy dialogue she’s been given to work with, or the decision to convey some of her conversations through dramatic text messaging. Clive Owen holds his own, despite the typecasting. The characters Watts and Owen play aren’t fleshed out at all. In a scene where Whitman gets nailed by a car, it’s unintentionally hilarious rather than disturbing. The film only dabbles into Whitman and Salinger’s past, and a more down-to-earth back-story would’ve helped us care.

The film tries to run away from its problems, bouncing from Germany to France to Turkey to London to America—it’s called The International for a reason. The different locales look gorgeous, but this is one long, pompous piece of tourism. When the film finally comes to an end, we’re left without a resolution; we have to read the credits to find the meaning of what we just saw.