Michael Clayton (2007)

Director:

Tony Gilroy

Writer (WGA):

Tony Gilroy (written by)

Release Date:

12 October 2007 (USA)

Genre:

Crime | Drama | Mystery | Thriller

Tagline:

The Truth Can Be Adjusted

Plot:

A law firm brings in its "fixer" to remedy the situation after a lawyer has a breakdown while representing a chemical company that he knows is guilty in a multi-billion dollar class action suit.

Plot Keywords:

Law Firm | Attorney | Fixer | Debt | Lawsuit

Awards:

Won Oscar. Another 12 wins & 51 nominations

Cast

Tom Wilkinson	...	Arthur Edens
Michael O'Keefe	...	Barry Grissom
Sydney Pollack	...	Marty Bach
Danielle Skraastad	...	Bridget Klein (voice)
Tilda Swinton	...	Karen Crowder
George Clooney	...	Michael Clayton
Wai Chan	...	Chinese Dealer
Alberto Vazquez	...	Player #1
Brian Koppelman	...	Player #2
Thomas McCarthy	...	Walter (voice) (as Tom McCarthy)
Denis O'Hare	...	Mr. Greer
Julie White	...	Mrs. Greer
Austin Williams	...	Henry Clayton
Jennifer Van Dyck	...	Ivy
Frank Wood	...	Gerald

MPAA:

Rated R for language including some sexual dialogue.

Runtime:

119 min

Country:

USA

Language:

English

Color:

Color

Aspect Ratio:

2.35 : 1

Sound Mix:

SDDS | Dolby Digital | DTS

Certification:

UK:15 | Ireland:15A | Norway:11 | Finland:K-11 | Australia:MA | Canada:14A (Alberta/Manitoba/Nova Scotia/Ontario) | Canada:G (Quebec) | Canada:PG (British Columbia) | Germany:12 | Denmark:11 | Netherlands:6 | Hong Kong:IIB | USA:R (certificate #43163) | Sweden:11 | Argentina:13 | Taiwan:R-12 (original rating) | France:U | Switzerland:12 (canton of Vaud) | Switzerland:12 (canton of Geneva) | South Korea:15 | Singapore:NC-16 | Brazil:12 | South Africa:13L | Portugal:M/12 (Qualidade) | New Zealand:M | Norway:10 (TV rating) | India:A

Filming Locations:

1345 Ave of the Americas, New York City, New York, USA

Company:

Samuels Media

Trivia:

Denzel Washington turned down the title role. George Clooney also originally turned it down, saying he was skeptical on working with a first-time director.

Goofs:

Errors made by characters (possibly deliberate errors by the filmmakers): Arthur says "I am Shiva, The God of Death". Shiva is a Hindu God, but not of Death. Shiva is the destroyer or transformer. Yama, is the God of Death.

Quotes:

[first lines]
Arthur Edens: Michael. Dear Michael. Of course it's you, who else could they send, who else could be trusted? I... I know it's a long way and you're ready to go to work... all I'm saying is wait, just wait, just-just-just... please hear me out because this is not an episode, relapse, fuck-up, it's... I'm begging you Michael. I'm begging you. Try and make believe this is not just madness because this is not just madness. Two weeks ago I came out of the building, okay, I'm running across Sixth Avenue, there's a car waiting, I got exactly 38 minutes to get to the airport and I'm dictating. There's this, this panicked associate sprinting along beside me, scribbling in a notepad, and suddenly she starts screaming, and I realize we're standing in the middle of the street, the light's changed, there's this wall of traffic, serious traffic speeding towards us, and I... I-I freeze, I can't move, and I'm suddenly consumed with the overwhelming sensation that I'm covered with some sort of film. It's in my hair, my face... it's like a glaze... like a... a coating, and... at first I thought, oh my god, I know what this is, this is some sort of amniotic - embryonic - fluid. I'm drenched in afterbirth, I've-I've breached the chrysalis, I've been reborn. But then the traffic, the stampede, the cars, the trucks, the horns, the screaming and I'm thinking no-no-no-no, reset, this is not rebirth, this is some kind of giddy illusion of renewal that happens in the final moment before death. And then I realize no-no-no, this is completely wrong because I look back at the building and I had the most stunning moment of clarity. I... I... I... I realized Michael, that I had emerged not from the doors of Kenner, Bach, and Ledeen, not through the portals of our vast and powerful law firm, but from the asshole of an organism whose sole function is to excrete the... the-the-the poison, the ammo, the defoliant necessary for other, larger, more powerful organisms to destroy the miracle of humanity. And that I had been coated in this patina of shit for the best part of my life. The stench of it and the stain of it would in all likelihood take the rest of my life to undo. And you know what I did? I took a deep cleansing breath and I set that notion aside. I tabled it. I said to myself as clear as this may be, as potent a feeling as this is, as true a thing as I believe that I have witnessed today, it must wait. It must stand the test of time. And Michael, the time is now.

Movie Connections:

Referenced in "Jeopardy!: Million Dollar Celebrity Invitational Quarterfinal 1 (#26.4)" (2009)

Soundtrack:

The Thought of You

"I am Shiva, the God of Death"

So are spoken as some of the most desperate words- not crazy, there's a difference- in recent movie memory. Michael Clayton is about the character trying to deal with his hand of fate, which is pretty dire: he's 45, working for 17 years for a law-firm where he's a "fixer", cleaning up the problems that can't be solved through simple litigations. Now he has a problem with the chief attorney, the "legend" Arthur (Tom Wilkinson) who has just gone streaking after one of the witnesses in a parking lot. The whole case could fall apart, but is there more than meets the eye? Murder, wire-taps, cover-ups, bombs, and at the core the placidity of a straight-laced face (Tilda Swinton), are all apart of the not-too-complicated puzzle.

It goes without saying that there is a little more than some debt that Gilroy owes to Network, if only in the face-value to be taken from the characters: the weathered professional, the nut who really has ecstatic truth in the Herzog sense, the cold and exacting woman, and the guy working as a top dog behind the scenes. But where Network was as dark as satires get, if there's any laughter to come out of Michael Clayton it's only in the extremely uncomfortable moments of Wilkinson walking in a daze through Times Square or disrobing maniacally on video, or a couple of chuckles at the wrap-up climax. It's a paranoid thriller where, in reality, it's not exactly paranoia in the strictest sense: if it's really happening, then it shouldn't be something to watch out for. But Gilroy continues to build on a sensibility of paranoia, of the darkness creeping up behind the corporate facade, of the sinister presence of those men in cars and vans with total access to whatever and whenever with the target. And you thought the Bourne movies- co-written by Gilory- were tense genre pieces.

What makes a film like Michael Clayton end up as memorable as it is, almost essential for those wanting to go to the movies for a serious drama without pretense or extreme melodrama, is the script and the performances. It's indeed such a strong script that it surely covers over the direction- as a directorial debut it feels like the work of a professional with countless years behind the belt, with a few notes of experimentation (the opening rambling voice-over on the looming, still shots of the empty rooms at the office at night, and the final shot as something that breaks away from what could be a bit more predictable and instead kind of haunting). And it's something as literate as this that allows for actors to go for what they can do best: for Wilkinson, Oscar worthy to a T, it's both subtle and over-the-top with Arthur, at one point making a masterful stroke of carrying loaves of bread; Swinton makes the careful act of preparation and looking at a mirror like it's everything to the character; Pollack, solid as usual, not too much to say.

Then there's Clooney. Already one of those leading men in Hollywood that has enough clout to probably get Sim City made into a movie if he wanted to, when given a serious and complex enough part to dive into (which has been frequent lately save for the Ocean movies) he's near perfect. I love seeing him on the brink of exploding at Arthur when he first sees him going on and on in the prison cell, or when he levels with his kid about his druggie-bum brother, or just in the way he looks frightened and unsure at some horses in a field. And the aforementioned shot couldn't be done so well by anyone else- you don't want to leave the theater even as the credits roll by, because he might do something, something slight behind the usual super-handsome exterior as he leaves the audience wanting to see more. It's an excellent genre film, but it's probably one of the few near perfect performances of the actor's career (and yes, I include Return of the Killer Tomatoes in that group).