Up In The Air

George Clooney is a man that’s clearly the sum of his parts. If you’re familiar with pop culture at all within the last twenty years, he’s someone you probably recognize, even if it is just in name only. His half-smile is legendary, voice distinguishable, and even his attitude is super cool; he’s unflappable and unapologetic about it, even when he’s trying. Mr. Clooney has tried to act against type in the past with films such as Syriana and directing credits under his name, even, for Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, Good Night and Good Luck, and Leatherheads, all of which have nabbed numerous accolades and nominations.

In Ocean’s Eleven, you see Clooney as you might think he is in off-screen: just this side of shady, with questionable morals but strong friendships and enough charm to power an army. He’s pitch-perfect as Danny Ocean, and even though their entire operation involves ripping off a casino and stealing millions of dollars, you want them to succeed. As a viewer, you want them to win, not only so they can beat Andy Garcia’s Terry Benedict, but so that Danny can be the hero.

In Up in the Air, there’s a version of Clooney that makes you vaguely uncomfortable. A charming man-child on the older side of forty with no responsibilities and few redeeming qualities. You might like him, but you aren’t sure why. It’s certainly not because of the image he projects or the bullshit that he spews. As of Janurary 3rd, the film has grossed $45,020,000, meaning that they’ve already broken even, considering that the film was put together for a “relatively modest” $25 million. It doesn’t look like Juno-director, Jason Reitman & co. were on a budget, as the film is shot and presented beautifully.

We open to a montage of places, the kind of view that can only be seen from out an airplane window, with a Clooney voice over telling us that the only place he ever feels at home is in the air. I’m sure I’d feel at home too, if I got to travel in such opulence, but I’m fairly positive that isn’t the point. The issue of his job gets explained almost right off the bat, and the only way you’ll go into this movie shocked about that is if you haven’t seen a single preview. It’s still a punch to the gut, though, seeing disgruntled people getting angrier by the moment. It’s only made worse by when they get sad. What’s interesting is that, with the exception of the famous actors, every person fired in the film is not an actor, but a real-life recently laid off person. The filmmakers put out ads in St. Louis and Detroit posing as a documentary crew looking to document the effect of the recession. When people showed up, they were instructed to treat the camera like the person who fired them and respond as they did or use the opportunity to say what they wished they had.

While Clooney is clearly the star, the supporting cast sparkles as well, with Vera Farmiga ( from The Departed and last year’s Orphan), Jason Bateman and the ever-lovely Melanie Lynskey as Ryan’s younger sister Jane. It isn’t so much that the film crackles as that there’s this long, slow burn that accompanies it. When everything does come together, a tickle of awareness like a swill of smooth scotch going down, sheer perfection and a warm afterglow, and newcomer Anna Kendrick provided more than a few stunning moments. Despite her eager-to-please demeanor when she’s first introduced, she really becomes our link to Ryan, forging a relationship with him, building bonds, but also saying everything we’re thinking and what we wish we could.

This isn’t a film that will move mountains, but it’s also not one that is aiming to. It’s a film about a man who’s made a career out of never growing up and making that desire profitable. The first time I saw the film, I’d have said he doesn’t change at all throughout it, that too much heartbreak and disappointment had left him empty, but I think that’s too simple a way to look at it. In the end, he assists in getting Natalie the job of her dreams. It would have been virtually impossible without him, and he does it without so much as asking for acknowledgement. He reaches out and makes a connection. That’s all that matters.

- Marianna C. Terzakis