Shakespeare had it easy. Writing about kings and spirits, mortality and destiny, audiences expect mighty speeches heading off the beaten track and into the stratosphere. That’s possible on the screen, and we’re used to that in films with an epic scope. But it takes more than skill to bring those larger themes into play in the context of what seems to be a naturalistic thriller. I’ve just rewatched Michael Clayton, and am in awe at the ability of writer-director Tony Gilroy to marshall such forces, and through a device as innocuous as an answerphone message. Here’s a pertinent part of it, delivered by troubled legal wizard Arthur Edens (played superbly by Tom Wilkinson):

“I looked back at the building and had the most stunning moment of clarity…I realized, Michael, at that moment, that I had emerged — as I have done nearly every day for twenty-eight years of my life — not through doors of Kenner, Bach & Ledeen — not through the portals of our huge and powerful law firm, but rather from the asshole of an organism whose sole function is to excrete the poison — the ammo — the defoliant — necessary for larger and even more dangerous organisms to destroy the miracle of humanity — and that I have been coated with this patina of shit for the better part of my life and that the stink and the stain might in all likelihood take the rest of my days to undo.”

The imagery is somewhere between Shakespeare and William Burroughs. Corporation as organism. And if your employer is an organisation that’s alive, what does that make you? A micro-organism within it? No wonder George Clooney, playing the title role, is confused about his lot in life. He’s been a cop, he’s been a lawyer, and now he’s a fixer, someone people turn to when something ugly needs taking care of.

The genius of the speech quoted is that it sets the frame for the film within mere minutes of it starting. It seems almost to be a piece of satire, but the metaphor is entirely accurate, a clearheaded description of the relationship of the law firm and its biggest client. Only, it’s such a bold statement that it could only be made by someone unhinged, which is the position that Edens occupies within the film, driven to manic depression by the realisation that he has devoted his life to defending the indefensible, and in the clarity of his madness devoting himself to undoing what he has done. No wonder then, that Edens meets the logical fate of someone who is shaking his fist at the skies — he gets struck down, assassinated by the unscrupulous firm he’s been working to defend for an eighth of his life. Edens is a full-blown classical Fool, never mind that he’s in a corporate thriller.

We follow Clayton through the story slowly coming to the same realisation as Edens, but being more worldly wise, how will he respond? Even he doesn’t know, and though we kind of believe that Clooney is the good guy, the writing and performance are skilful enough to keep you guessing what he’s going to do next.

Edens gets to make the crazed speeches that reveal the true playing field the story occupies, and Clayton acts within its bounds. Important then that we can identify with him, and that’s done with aplomb: good looks aside, Clooney is playing a kind of everyman here, or at any rate someone who does the bidding of others rather than truly being in charge of his own destiny, which is a role that many of us can identify with. And it’s clear that Clayton is keen to establish some sort of definitive role for himself, even if his one recent attempt to do so — running a bar — has ended in failure. But that just paints him more surely as one of us, someone who offered a serious chunk of money might shrug his shoulders and move away from whatever is stressing him.

Clayton is a hero though, or at any rate discovers that he can be. He’s already one to his son, who is obsessed as only kids can be with a computer fantasy game that itself is concerned with forging alliances and creating your destiny. Edens sees in the game a metaphor for the situation he’s caught up in, and is inspired by it to do the right thing and expose the wrongdoing of his law firm’s key client. And he dies because of that, an outcome he could have probably guessed had he pursued the logic implicit in the speech quoted earlier.

Knowing the truth, Clayton has the choice to behave as he has for the last chunk of his life, and be a fixer, paid to do the bidding of others. Or he could stand up and deliver on what Edens has uncovered. It’s interesting that at this point in the story, Clayton is believed to be dead: what he chooses to do now will define who he is in his new incarnation. And the way that plays out keeps you guessing right to the last minute, and kept me engrossed in watching what happens in the credits even, when Clayton sits in the back seat of a taxi that’s driving wherever $50 will take him.

This is the second time I’ve written about Michael Clayton. It may not be the last. If you’ve not seen it already, do so if only so you have more of an idea of what I’m going on about next time.