i'm not exactly looking to pick some internet fisticuffs up over MICHAEL CLAYTON, as the flick has quite a lot going for it...
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 just wait, just... just wait and please just hear me out because this is not an episode, relapse, fuck-up, it's... I'm begging you Michael. I'm begging you. Try to make believe this is not just madness because this is not just madness. Two weeks ago I came out of the building ok, I'm running across 6th avenue there's a car waiting, I've got exactly 38 minutes to get to the airport and I'm dictating. There's 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 freeze, I can't move, and I'm suddenly consumed with the overwhelming sensation that I'm covered in some sort of film. It's in my hair, my face... it's like a glaze... 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 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, 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 realized Michael, that I had emerged not from the doors of Kenner, Bach, and Odeen, not through the portals of our vast and powerful law firm, but from the asshole of an organism who's sole function is to excrete 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 sting of it would in all likelihood take the rest of my life to undue. And you know what I did? I took a deep cleansing breath and I put 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 I witnessed today, it must wait. It must stand the test of time, and Michael, the time is now.
'cuz let me make clear, a movie that kicks off with that thought provoking, jaw dropping, ass-firmly-planted-to-my-couch-while-listening-in- awe voice-over from the ho-hum, awesome as always Tom Wilkinson is not a movie one can hoist up on it's own petard and not expect some serious objections from the peanut gallery.
Tony Gilroy's directorial debut doesn't dumb it down for the dullards, it's somewhat uplifting ending felt earned, the performances are across the board top-notch, the framing and shots are serviceable enough...
but did no one else feel God was not only out of the machine, but beating up snot nosed kids for their quarters?
consider Wilkinson's revelation, and the fact that those who've received similar epiphanies over the course of time have been branded insane, have been housed in your Bedlam's, your Arkham's - so we're led to believe Arthur's epiphany is him not taking his manic/depressive meds, right?
But, clearly, he's not insane - in fact, what he's doing may be the sanest thing one could do in his clearly insane situation. He's getting the girl (sure, a creepy substitute for his estranged daughter, but still...), his action in fleeing Milwaukee is just to get to NY where, as Arthur points out, they can't put him away for insanity. I couldn't help but think he has a pretty rational reaction to his awakening, his "rebirth"; I mean, he gave it a couple weeks to see if it stood the test of time, no?
So, sure, it's a bit of a stretch, but that's epiphany/revelation/divine intervention #1.
The second, well, that would be Clooney ditching his ride in bafflement over the 3 (trinity? Three is a very religious number) horses chilling on the hill above him.
Espying those curiously free range for Westchester County horses saves his life, and is, importantly, the one and only thing that compels him to finally do the right thing.
No character really has an arc to speak of, 'cept arguably Arthur, and we know what happened to him. That's fine, that's not a deal breaker for me, I find character development to be mostly hokey and patently untrue to life as I know of it - but, in terms of overall plot mechanics, the flick really hinges on one (most definitely) and possibly two acts of divine will.
Am I that wrong on that? 'Cuz I thought the film was pretty damn solid otherwise..