Anton Corbijn’s “The American” begins in silence on a forest line in snowy Denmark. A mellow piano piece escalates softly over a scene of two lovers in a cabin beside the fireplace. Jack, played by an arguably miscast George Clooney, takes his lover on a walk, replete with the sounds of snow crunching under their feet.

Later, Jack, an assassin of sorts, waits in an Italian café for his boss. There’s an insert of a clock on the wall, showing the seconds hand moving before a cut back to Jack with his coffee.

The film is conscious of its slow pace, deliberate in its manipulation of audience expectations considering the film was marketed as a Jason Bourne thriller with George Clooney.

It’s slowly paced and each shot tightly controlled as a reflection of Jack’s silent and methodical character, the story based on Martin Booth’s novel “A Very,Private Gentleman.”

Changing its title from the source to “The American,” the film addresses the mythos of America by way of the western. In one scene, there’s a shown clip of a shootout from Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in the West. In several, Jack holsters his pistol in his jacket’s pocket, but in keeping with the film’s balancing act, it upends the western’s formula.

As soon as we see it as western, love story or thriller, it gracefully moves into something else, something human about a man looking for a way out. “The American” may not be a serious contender for best picture of the year, but it’s one of the most important.