Michael Clayton: A “fixer” dominates a movie that doesn’t need one
Rating: 3 and a half stars (out of 4)
There is a scene early on in Michael Clayton in which George Clooney’s character denies the assertion that he’s a miracle worker; “I’m a janitor,” he says. But what happens when a janitor decides that the mess he’s cleaning up should be exposed for the world to see? That represents the question at the heart of this engrossing, complicated film, which centers on Clooney and his relationship with a powerful law firm.
Clooney is the firm’s “fixer,” the nearly invisible guy who takes care of its dirty work. The firm’s latest case forces them to defend a pharmaceutical company, uNorth, whose product has probably caused the deaths of numerous people. Tilda Swinton plays Karen Crowder, uNorth’s lead attorney. Among her concerns is the behavior of Arthur Edens (Tom Wilkinson), one of the firm’s attorneys who suffers from manic depressive disorder and has stopped taking his medication. Not only is Arthur getting arrested for things like running around naked outside, but he’s also starting to publicize evidence against uNorth.
Written and directed by Tony Gilroy, who’s tagging himself as a force to be reckoned with in Hollywood (he co-write all three Bournes and State of Play individually), Michael Clayton spends not one minute in the courtroom and instead focuses on the changes engulfing Michael: controlling Arthur (and a man who refers to himself as “Shiva, the god of death” probably should require multiple handlers); a $75,000 debt from a failed restaurant venture with his deadbeat brother; an imminent sale of the firm and the task of defining his role to new people; and people on both sides of the case targeting him as his loyalty vacillates.
These pressures circle around them tighter and tighter as the film masterfully builds psychological tension through a series of exceptional scenes. There’s one when Michael asks the firm’s lead partner Marty Bach (excellently played by Sydney Pollack) for a loan, and the dialogue expertly moves over to all the other issues at play. Likewise, you’ll want multiple viewings of the one between Michael and Arthur in a New York City alley (the bread scene), where the participants say all the right things, all the things you’d want them to say, and then still leave Michael, afterwards, more rattled and pressurized, ready to implode. This is the rare film fascinated with the minds of its characters, that cares less about making pat judgments and more about showing how their idiosyncrasies and habits can be used against them.
Less character-driven but more structurally complex than the comparable A Civil Action, Clayton demands to be seen multiple times. The plot is involuted, but there’s a difference in walking out of a movie confused about what turn out to be plot holes and walking out knowing that a second viewing will clear up the details. You’ll actually be guessing at what comes next (especially given the flashback device), and then repeated viewings will allow the story to flesh itself out. I’ve watched this movie four times and still feel like I could get more out of it tomorrow.
Though its protagonist does what he feels is right against the odds, the film doesn’t play as a conventional, feel-good hero story. It’s too complex for that. Like A Civil Action, it’s interested in the curious aspects of the law, like the fact that powerful firms will vehemently defend unscrupulous behaviors just to sign everyone’s check. And that’s microcosmic of the way it portrays the inherently flawed system that destroys everyone—Arthur, Michael, Karen, and Marty among them. Clooney’s meticulous, burning performance (his career apex) shores up the inner circle (Michael’s arc), but the wider issues concern the battle between loyalty and conscience, blurred lines separating good and bad people, and mental stability. The de facto ‘bad guys’ almost seem to be acting as mere clogs in a system that siphons away their free will. Michael Clayton’s wonderfully understated closing shot—a textbook example of triumph without glee—shows us one man who was finally able to break free.