With Michael Clayton, screenwriter turned director Tony Gilroy evokes the dashing breed of studio film more common in the 70's and 80's. A scrupulous endeavor, for sure—yet nevertheless flawed. As the title suggests, Clooney plays Michael Clayton, a "fixer" at a gigantic NYC based law firm, his partner Marty (a subdued, typical Syndey Pollack) playing main man as well as the runner. Yet the film chronicles and centers on Clooney, as he finds himself in the middle of one of the biggest cases in the law firm's history: a man (the great Tom Wilkinson), off his medication, finds himself naked and chasing around one of the primary witnesses in another case. Another firm—led by Tilda Swinton's (magnificent as usual) character—is on it as well, and from there the show is on. Formidably, Gilroy has no problem establishing a nifty tone with the film's narrative threads, but it's his decision to throw in superfluous subplots and contrived narrative structure that abates what could have been a flawless concotion. At times, surprisingly, the film looses its wonderful rhythm, but the wonderful palette of emotions—mimicked by excellent cinematography—is able to balance out to match Clooney's character. But you walk out with a grimacing sensation—satisfied but still hungry; not unlike its main character, this is a film that is smartly overcomplicated.
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