Michael Clayton. Tony Gilroy. 2007.
After watching a string of European films, it’s always a struggle to readjust to American acting. American acting is so stylised and unreal. You can always imagine any of these actors dropping into a McDonalds’s commercial or a four camera sitcom and behaving exactly the same way. They conform to a really weird set of TV-derived cliches. Even the good actors do.
But then you get acclimatised to American actor tropes and you stop noticing how artificial they are, and you stop being annoyed by them.
I mean, I.
Clooney’s fine, though, and this isn’t a bad film. There are so many hokey lines, but it’s pretty good.
This post is part of The Tilda Swinton Project.