The latest entry in the cottage industry of films about aging and tired hit men who just want out of the business, but have to do “one last job” which inevitably becomes more complicated than anticipated is The American, starring George Clooney, and based on the novel “A Very Private Gentleman” by Martin Booth. It is hard to know what to say beyond that every twist and turn of the plot, including its ending, is entirely predictable. The movie is freighted down with portentousness and an affectless performance by Clooney, perhaps in the hope that its pretention to seriousness can overcome, and perhaps compensate for, the obvious lack of originality. The Italian scenery is gorgeous — almost the entire movie takes place in the Abruzzo region — but The American wastes the talent of everyone in it.