Most people think of Tom Cruise as an action star, but if you look at the greater trajectory of his career, it hasn't always been that way. Sure, Cruise's breakout was Top Gun, but he quickly shifted to a strategy of working with big-name directors on truly interesting projects. Over the course of just over a decade, Cruise worked with Martin Scorsese, Oliver Stone, Brian DePalma, Cameron Crowe, Stanely Kubrick, and Paul Thomas Anderson, some of the most talented filmmakers of all time. As the new millennium approached (and as he delved deeper into the world of Scientology), Cruise began to settle into an action groove, embracing characters like Ethan Hunt and Jack Reacher and eventually taking on big-budget sci-fi films like Edge of Tomorrow and Oblivion. But if this year's The Mummy is any indication, Cruise's cachet as an action star is beginning to fade- after all, he's well over 50 now. While he's tackling Mission: Impossible 6 and Top Gun: Maverick next, it'll be interesting to see where his career goes in the post-franchise age.
I bring this up because American Made feels like a slightly different kind of Cruise vehicle. It definitely has some intense action elements, but it's more of a flashy character piece than a wild spy/sci-fi adventure. There is a certain degree of familiarity here- after all, Cruise worked with director Doug Liman before on the aforementioned Edge of Tomorrow. So while this isn't necessarily a risk, I still think it represents an interesting step in his career, one that could indicate riskier projects to come. That being said, the movie isn't really any good. Even with a committed Cruise and an absurdly compelling source material, American Made feels like a hodgepodge of various elements taken from far superior films. I have to imagine that the elevator pitch was basically "American Hustle meets Narcos," and while that sounds thrilling on paper, Liman's approach is fundamentally flawed. Poor directorial choices and mediocre plotting leads to a thoroughly disappointing result, a film that just never gets off the ground.
As a young man, Barry Seal (Cruise) was a superstar pilot considered to be one of the best in the business. But as he grows older and begins to start a family, Seal's job as a TWA pilot grows more and more unsatisfying. Enter Schafer (Domhnall Gleeson), a mysterious government officer who comes to Seal with an offer- fly to South America, take reconnaissance photos, and serve your country in the fight against Communist forces. Desperate for something different, Seal agrees to the deal, taking some of the best photos that the CIA has ever seen and leaving his job at TWA. But the excitement of his new enterprise comes with one small drawback- there isn't much money involved. Schafer indicates that a raise won't be coming anytime soon, and considering that Seal's wife (Sarah Wright) is pregnant with their third child, that just won't do.
And that's where the Medellin cartel comes in. Jorge Ochoa (Alejandro Edda), Pablo Escobar (Mauricio Mejia), and their associates make Seal a deal- smuggle cocaine into the United States and he'll earn $2,000 for every kilo. Barry agrees, quickly becoming richer than his wildest dreams. But this is just the beginning. As Schafer introduces the US government's support for the Contras, Seal and Medellin create a new scheme that turns guns into drugs and drugs into cold hard cash. As Seal's wickedly extravagant vision of the American dream begins to grow dangerously irresponsible, the dark forces that surround him begin to close in, resulting in a comical nightmare of epic proportions. Seal firmly believes that America is the greatest country in the world, but it just might get him killed in the process.
All film reviews are obviously subjective, but I think that it's a particularly strong matter of opinion to say that I don't like the way something was shot. And yet, that's how I'm gonna kick off my discussion of American Made, because the directorial style is so indicative of this film's greater problems. It's worth noting that I'm pretty sure there was a masking issue in my theater, cutting off a few inches on the right side of the screen. That being said, it doesn't change the fact that I found Liman and cinematographer Cesar Charlone's handheld camerawork to be endlessly frustrating. It's a kind of jittery, frantic docu-drama approach, and it is as profoundly empty as everything else in the movie. It tries to give the narrative a kind of uncontrollable energy, but it feels overdone and pointless, capturing everything in these headache-inducing close-ups that serve no real purpose. It's the kind of work that Charlone has done his whole career (he shot Fernando Meirelles' masterful City of God), but here it feels more forced than ever.
And ultimately, it sums up American Made pretty well- a whole lot of useless style in search of a story. This extends to the central character of Barry Seal, featuring a performance by Cruise that should work but just doesn't. You can feel Cruise trying so hard to capture the viewer's attention at every moment. He gives Seal a kind of performative swagger, a smarmy southern charm highlighted by a never-ending love for the good ol' USA. But despite the inherent appeal of the role, the script by relatively inexperienced writer Gary Spinelli gives Cruise almost nothing to work with at all. There's no depth, no insight into Seal's mind or goals or deeper ambitions. Maybe Seal really was as shallow as the film depicts him to be, but it's hard for me to imagine that's the case. On screen, Barry Seal is a con man who will work for anybody if it puts another dollar in his pocket, and while he's brilliant at what he does, he's also a bit of a numbskull too. He fits so many of the characteristics necessary for this particular genre, but he just isn't interesting in any way. There's no conflict to his character. He's empty and greedy, through and through.
If you're looking for some compelling supporting players to back up Cruise's lackluster protagonist, you're out of luck. I'm not really sure what the filmmakers were trying to do with the usually-reliable Domhnall Gleeson's Schafer, but whatever it was, it doesn't work in the slightest. Liman and Spinelli can never decide if Schafer is a shady genius or a total idiot, and I don't think Gleeson knows what he's supposed to be doing either. Sarah Wright is wasted as Lucy Seal, a wife with a stunning lack of agency or personality. Maybe it's a sly commentary on the misogyny of Seal and the deep south, but I was stunned by how little she had to do. The Colombian drug lords are virtually non-players, which is probably good considering that Wagner Moura already created the definitive on-screen portrait of Pablo Escobar in Narcos. Caleb Landry Jones plays another one-note scumbag, and poor Jesse Plemons is wasted on a character who must have been scrapped in post-production.
At every moment, you can feel American Made trying to do something interesting. It wants to channel Scorsese, it wants to imitate films like American Hustle and Goodfellas, it wants to be a scathing indictment of the very idea of the American Dream. And it ends up........well, just making you wish you were watching one of those other movies instead. It takes a deft touch to perfectly balance the levels of comedy and drama necessary for this kind of movie, and unfortunately, Liman just isn't up to the task. The rise and fall of Barry Seal is told with a stunning lack of momentum, and while this film desperately tries to entertain its audience, it remains a slog to sit through. The movie is a tonal jumble, and the narrative just has no impact whatsoever.
The result is one of the more forgettable films I've seen recently, a movie made up of a seemingly never-ending series of mildly amusing anecdotes, while also severely lacking a dramatically engaging core. American Made just never even comes close to knowing what it wants to be, and its bizarre attempts at both satire and genuine drama fall well short of the mark. On paper, this is the kind of material that I'm pre-disposed to absolutely love, so it's safe to say that I was seriously let down by this whole enterprise. Cruise gives his all and the film tries very hard, but it's a narrative and thematic vacuum. Look just below the surface, and you'll only find observations that have been made thousands of times before. For all of its grandiose style, there's just nothing to see here.
THE FINAL GRADE: C- (5.4/10)
Images: IMDB
Poster courtesy of Universal Pictures
I bring this up because American Made feels like a slightly different kind of Cruise vehicle. It definitely has some intense action elements, but it's more of a flashy character piece than a wild spy/sci-fi adventure. There is a certain degree of familiarity here- after all, Cruise worked with director Doug Liman before on the aforementioned Edge of Tomorrow. So while this isn't necessarily a risk, I still think it represents an interesting step in his career, one that could indicate riskier projects to come. That being said, the movie isn't really any good. Even with a committed Cruise and an absurdly compelling source material, American Made feels like a hodgepodge of various elements taken from far superior films. I have to imagine that the elevator pitch was basically "American Hustle meets Narcos," and while that sounds thrilling on paper, Liman's approach is fundamentally flawed. Poor directorial choices and mediocre plotting leads to a thoroughly disappointing result, a film that just never gets off the ground.
As a young man, Barry Seal (Cruise) was a superstar pilot considered to be one of the best in the business. But as he grows older and begins to start a family, Seal's job as a TWA pilot grows more and more unsatisfying. Enter Schafer (Domhnall Gleeson), a mysterious government officer who comes to Seal with an offer- fly to South America, take reconnaissance photos, and serve your country in the fight against Communist forces. Desperate for something different, Seal agrees to the deal, taking some of the best photos that the CIA has ever seen and leaving his job at TWA. But the excitement of his new enterprise comes with one small drawback- there isn't much money involved. Schafer indicates that a raise won't be coming anytime soon, and considering that Seal's wife (Sarah Wright) is pregnant with their third child, that just won't do.
And that's where the Medellin cartel comes in. Jorge Ochoa (Alejandro Edda), Pablo Escobar (Mauricio Mejia), and their associates make Seal a deal- smuggle cocaine into the United States and he'll earn $2,000 for every kilo. Barry agrees, quickly becoming richer than his wildest dreams. But this is just the beginning. As Schafer introduces the US government's support for the Contras, Seal and Medellin create a new scheme that turns guns into drugs and drugs into cold hard cash. As Seal's wickedly extravagant vision of the American dream begins to grow dangerously irresponsible, the dark forces that surround him begin to close in, resulting in a comical nightmare of epic proportions. Seal firmly believes that America is the greatest country in the world, but it just might get him killed in the process.
All film reviews are obviously subjective, but I think that it's a particularly strong matter of opinion to say that I don't like the way something was shot. And yet, that's how I'm gonna kick off my discussion of American Made, because the directorial style is so indicative of this film's greater problems. It's worth noting that I'm pretty sure there was a masking issue in my theater, cutting off a few inches on the right side of the screen. That being said, it doesn't change the fact that I found Liman and cinematographer Cesar Charlone's handheld camerawork to be endlessly frustrating. It's a kind of jittery, frantic docu-drama approach, and it is as profoundly empty as everything else in the movie. It tries to give the narrative a kind of uncontrollable energy, but it feels overdone and pointless, capturing everything in these headache-inducing close-ups that serve no real purpose. It's the kind of work that Charlone has done his whole career (he shot Fernando Meirelles' masterful City of God), but here it feels more forced than ever.
And ultimately, it sums up American Made pretty well- a whole lot of useless style in search of a story. This extends to the central character of Barry Seal, featuring a performance by Cruise that should work but just doesn't. You can feel Cruise trying so hard to capture the viewer's attention at every moment. He gives Seal a kind of performative swagger, a smarmy southern charm highlighted by a never-ending love for the good ol' USA. But despite the inherent appeal of the role, the script by relatively inexperienced writer Gary Spinelli gives Cruise almost nothing to work with at all. There's no depth, no insight into Seal's mind or goals or deeper ambitions. Maybe Seal really was as shallow as the film depicts him to be, but it's hard for me to imagine that's the case. On screen, Barry Seal is a con man who will work for anybody if it puts another dollar in his pocket, and while he's brilliant at what he does, he's also a bit of a numbskull too. He fits so many of the characteristics necessary for this particular genre, but he just isn't interesting in any way. There's no conflict to his character. He's empty and greedy, through and through.
If you're looking for some compelling supporting players to back up Cruise's lackluster protagonist, you're out of luck. I'm not really sure what the filmmakers were trying to do with the usually-reliable Domhnall Gleeson's Schafer, but whatever it was, it doesn't work in the slightest. Liman and Spinelli can never decide if Schafer is a shady genius or a total idiot, and I don't think Gleeson knows what he's supposed to be doing either. Sarah Wright is wasted as Lucy Seal, a wife with a stunning lack of agency or personality. Maybe it's a sly commentary on the misogyny of Seal and the deep south, but I was stunned by how little she had to do. The Colombian drug lords are virtually non-players, which is probably good considering that Wagner Moura already created the definitive on-screen portrait of Pablo Escobar in Narcos. Caleb Landry Jones plays another one-note scumbag, and poor Jesse Plemons is wasted on a character who must have been scrapped in post-production.
At every moment, you can feel American Made trying to do something interesting. It wants to channel Scorsese, it wants to imitate films like American Hustle and Goodfellas, it wants to be a scathing indictment of the very idea of the American Dream. And it ends up........well, just making you wish you were watching one of those other movies instead. It takes a deft touch to perfectly balance the levels of comedy and drama necessary for this kind of movie, and unfortunately, Liman just isn't up to the task. The rise and fall of Barry Seal is told with a stunning lack of momentum, and while this film desperately tries to entertain its audience, it remains a slog to sit through. The movie is a tonal jumble, and the narrative just has no impact whatsoever.
The result is one of the more forgettable films I've seen recently, a movie made up of a seemingly never-ending series of mildly amusing anecdotes, while also severely lacking a dramatically engaging core. American Made just never even comes close to knowing what it wants to be, and its bizarre attempts at both satire and genuine drama fall well short of the mark. On paper, this is the kind of material that I'm pre-disposed to absolutely love, so it's safe to say that I was seriously let down by this whole enterprise. Cruise gives his all and the film tries very hard, but it's a narrative and thematic vacuum. Look just below the surface, and you'll only find observations that have been made thousands of times before. For all of its grandiose style, there's just nothing to see here.
THE FINAL GRADE: C- (5.4/10)
Images: IMDB
Poster courtesy of Universal Pictures
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