In a college dorm somewhere, a Resident Advisor has put her head on this movie's poster and modified the title in an attempt to seem cool. It will fail.
With a title like The American (the book it's based on is called A Very Private Gentleman), I expected this movie to be one big metaphor for how the U.S. is perceived abroad, especially since the title character is an assassin by trade, hiding out among simple Italian townspeople. And maybe it is: Clooney's butterfly-admiring killer Jack barely speaks the language (though he knows enough to get by), he takes things without paying for them (though he offers), his presence leads to innocent deaths (though not by his hand) and he takes advantage of the town's young women (though, to be fair, that's their job). But the only time Americans are really spoken of in generalities is when a priest tells Jack that Americans are always trying to escape their history. Jack may be, although his deeper past is never brought up, but we do know one thing: he's definitely still dealing with his last trip to Sweden.