Rethinking George

I’ve never been a big fan of George Clooney. Perhaps that’s because my ex thought he was sexy, or maybe it was that I just thought he was an average actor playing average characters. He was certainly no Pacino, De Niro or Eastwood, my three favorites.



But, in the last 24 hours I’ve had to rethink my animus toward Clooney. I watched two of his movies – one for the first time, one for the twentieth, - and came away with a new sense of respect for his acting ability. The characters he played in those two movies spoke to me. Clooney, I’ve come to realize, is good at what he does. Good movies, like well-written books, succeed when the theme speaks to the audience. A man coming to grips with his broken, failed life, believing in love even after divorce, doing the right thing even when it costs you. Story themes work when people can say “I get that”. I said that twice the other night and Clooney was the reason.


First, “Michael Clayton”. Clooney plays a lawyer at a powerful New York firm in the middle of defending a corporation in a class action lawsuit brought by farmers over carcinogens in a fertilizer/weed killer the company sold. Clooney isn’t much of a lawyer; he’s a “fixer”. You have a problem, Clooney gets it fixed.


But his life is broken. He picks his son up from his ex-wife and new husband’s home. He spends time playing poker (and losing badly we come to understand) in illegal, all night games. He’s alienated from his family, he’s lost thousands on a failed restaurant, he owes a loan shark $75,000.


At one point he’s talking to the firm’s senior partner and he says “I’m 45 and I have nothing”. His mentor, another lawyer at the firm and perhaps the finest trial attorney he’s ever seen - has a break down –or is it a profound attack of conscience about defending the corporation.


Clooney struggles as he realizes his life, his career, haven’t been about justice. He’s accomplished nothing. He’s done nothing. He’s been on the wrong side.


I felt what Clooney’s character felt. The law, I learned early in practice, wasn’t about justice. It was about winning. And, I enjoyed winning. Later, in my job with Farm Bureau, I calculated the likelihood of success in court of hundreds of cases. I put a value on injuries and deaths. How much is a four-year olds life worth? How much responsibility does a thirty-year old bear when she fails to yield the right of way and an accident occurs?


I learned Virginia juries (and judges) didn’t go overboard with monetary awards. As a result “I guessed right” on my valuations almost every time. I was good at what I did, but deep down I was conflicted. The law was supposed to be about justice. I couldn’t face the fact that it wasn’t. Like Clooney’s character, I had nothing to show for my life. And, I began to compromise who I was, what I believed, to be successful. Was I a good husband? A good father? A good lawyer? A good friend? A good lover? A good man? I didn’t think so, at least not without being all things to all people, including the woman I thought would love me unconditionally.


And then there’s “Ocean’s Eleven”, a man’s quest to reunite with his ex-wife against the backdrop of a casino heist. Clooney (“Ocean”) has numerous conversations with his ex (“Tess” played by Julia Roberts). The entire movie takes place in and around the Bellagio, a Las Vegas casino I gambled and dined at extensively with my ex (I’m no George Clooney, but to me my ex was more beautiful than Julia Roberts on her best day).


How’s this for dialog:


Roberts: “You’re a liar and a thief.”
Clooney: “I only lied to you about stealing.” (We wrote each other those exact words).
Clooney: “Does he make you laugh?”
Roberts: “No but he doesn’t make me cry either.”
Roberts: “How are you going to give me the five years back your lies cost me?”
Clooney: “With better years in the future.”


As the story unfolds, Clooney and his band of sophisticated thieves get millions from the casino. Clooney goes back to prison. This time when the gate opens, Julia Roberts is there, waiting on him.


Sometimes life imitates art. Sometimes it doesn’t. In “Michael Clayton”, Clooney continues to gamble, and lose, even though he’s told everyone he’s done gambling. He “comes right” at the end and yet, we see no repercussions, just him riding in a cab.


In “Oceans Eleven” his ex realizes she always loved him. He’s still running scams, still breaking the law, but that’s OK because they have each other.


Life, at least my life, didn’t play out that way. I did the right thing from August 18, 2008 forward. I made my case easy for the prosecution. I confessed to everything, gave detailed information on every action I took, signed everything over to my wife and kids so they’d be secure and then paid hundreds of thousands of dollars in partial restitution. There was no cab ride for me, no “just drive” moment.


And my ex telling me she still loves me, always loved me, coming by the prison to tell me her faith in me, in us, is unshakable? Didn’t happen.


Today would have been my 29th wedding anniversary. I’ve done well today because I’ve finally realized my life isn’t a movie, at least where it involves my ex. Only one of us is still in love, only one of us misses our mate. The other, another day and life goes on.


For a few hours yesterday I watched Clooney play two roles and recite lines, and salvage his own life and his marriage. For a few hours I thought “if it worked for George, it could work for me”. For a few hours I felt that things would work out for me just like in the movies. That George Clooney really is a good actor!