A Review: The International

 

If you read this blog, you'll understand that I think know that Clive Owen is the man. End of it. Director Tom Tykwer is supposedly on his way to an all-star cast in his next film, Cloud Atlas. He's a man of of particular taste; intrigue, corruption, thrills all involve themselves in his works. I've heard some good stuff about his debut, Run Lola Run, staring Franka Potente from the Bourne series. He shows the same intensity and patience here, using the strengths of Clive and Naomi well--until it all falls apart in the last 3 minutes.
This is gonna be shorter than most of my stuff, akin to the very efficient Quantum review. Hell, Travers does that shit too though, on the reg. His reviews are like two paragraphs sometimes. But he's still cool man. Anyway.

Uh yeah, it was good. Involving, though hard to follow until the middle of the second act when all the little details and plot points started fleshing out and making sense. Maybe that's a complaint right there. It (at first) was fuckin' hard to under-fuckin'-stand what the fuck was fuckin' going on... fuck! But I got it eventually, I don't usually suffer from that syndrome too, so that tells you about the film already.

Owen and Watts aren't in some hokey love thingy, but the chemistry they required to make their scenes work wasn't exactly there (save for a nice moment in the elevator). She's a Manhattan assistant D.A. and married with a son. Good. I wasn't watching this with a hope for romance. He plays a Interpol agent, on the verge, coupled with Watts' character, to breaking open the IBBC (International Bank of Business and Credit) which also buys and sells weapons of all kinds to terrorists. Bank of Credit and Commerce International is the real life (former) bank it's (obviously) based off of involving the scandal and what not.

That's the plot--the evil bank is evil as fuck and they want to take it down. So in that mess, we eventually get to a nice little shoot-out sequence at the Guggenheim Museum and few good notes between Clive and Naomi along the way. Tykwer handles the movie well, and it ventures into film territory, but doesn't exactly cross the bridge to arrive. (Wow, that was an awesome way to explain the whole thing, wasn't it? I'm raw son)

So, for the Gugnheiiemembahggabaer museum shoot-out, the sketchy assassins and head honchos, and Armin Mueller-Stahl in a nice turn as a former Stasi agent turned high level bank exec with a conscience, I'll say 2.5, not a 'Nana higher.

Munki out.