Is George Clooney Playing Himself?

If George Clooney was in a T.V. show, it would be called, “Everybody Loves George,”  because everyone does in fact, love George Clooney. However, like all things we love, does this mean we should love them? Or him, in this sense?  Or is it some inescapable fate that has chosen us and we will always love George, because secretly, we think George loves us?

Regardless, George Clooney has been in an excess of movies this year, from Fantastic Mr. Fox to The Men Who Stare at Goats to his latest, Up in the Air. Directed by Jason Reitman (Juno, Thank You For Smoking) this existential “comedy” about the loneliness of flying in the sky is at times hilarious, at times superficial, and at times glorious. I say “comedy” lightly because the film inhabits an inherently darker backdrop many are familiar with: the loss of employment in a crumbling economy. Ryan Bingham (played by Clooney) plays a part in this devastating economy: he fires people. And in an economy of this state, Bingham has job security. He knows how to impeccably pack all of his belongings in a two-day-black travel suitcase, knows how to zip through security like Jason Bourne, and knows how to fire people in such a suave manner that in the end they are thanking him.

Bingham works for a firm whose sole occupation is to “let people go.” His company is contracted by other companies too scared to terminate their own employees, so they do what any good modernist would do, that is, hire a stranger to do it.  The firm is run by an amoral Michael Bluth (a.k.a Jason Bateman) and conflict permeates for Bingham as the company hires a smart new intern (Anna Kendrick) and prepares to transfer the company to “iFirings,” or firing people over iChat. Bingham resists this because Bingham’s entire identity and life philosophy is wrapped up in the travel that makes his job possible, so of course this new technology renders his job obsolete.  His philosophy is part nihilism, part selfish Western independence. He gives lectures on freeing oneself, emptying all the contents of the metaphorical “backpack,” (i.e. things such as relationships) if they hinder overall well-being or success. He tells his audience to go faster, keep moving.  “The slower we move,” says Bingham, “the faster we die.”

The other reason Bingham resists the “grounding” of his life is that he is exceptionally close to his one and only real life goal: ten million frequent flier miles. Bingham loves being in the air, loves not being connected to anyone, loves floating in the ideal world of hotel rooms, airport bars, and corporate offices, where he doesn’t have to know anyone and no one has to know him. His only goal is his only real identity. The goal itself is superfluous, it means nothing for his life, gives it no greater meaning, yet it is “something physical” to which he can attribute meaning.

As the film progresses we begin to see that Bingham does realize something is missing. This of course, comes in the form of a woman (Vera Fermiga) who plays Alex. A near identical version of Bingham himself (they meet in an airport bar.) The two hookup and establish a near virtual relationship. Reitman throws in a great scene showing the two open their laptops to click and arrange another meeting time when they’ll be traveling in the same town. This scene shows the brilliant social commentary of Retiman’s film, commentary on a techno-savvy world in which everyone becomes more separated, more isolated—often by choice—and relationships become virtual.  Bingham eventually decides to leave his independent efficient lifestyle and risk a relationship with Alex. The result is peculiar and not what you expect—that much I’ll say. Clooney does an excellent job. He is perfect for the role and continues to impress with his talent for acting (I really think few others could have pulled this off.)

But…could it be that George Clooney is simply playing himself?” Clooney has emphatically denied the idea of marriage (he is almost infamously or famously known for it) and embraced the wealthy independent bachelor lifestyle. Clooney lives a life eerily similar to that of Ryan Bingham.  In an interview with Esquire magazine Clooney said that he didn’t learn much from marriage because he didn’t treat it as a learning experience. He goes on to say that he wasn’t prepared for the idea that when things go badly in marriage, you actually need to work them out. Clooney blames this on the naivety of his age, yet it still sounds eerily similar to the philosophy of Ryan Bingham, essentially summed up with something like, “Don’t let anybody or anything tie you down, it’s not worth it. Do your own thing.”  Could it be that Clooney himself has his own metaphorical empty backpack? Could it be that not only is Clooney playing the role of Western-technological-postmodern-independence in Up in the Air, but that Clooney is living the role in real life?

Actors are good because they play “roles” and great actors play roles which are so far from their personality that it takes a good amount of imagination to accomplish (i.e. Anthony Hopkins in Silence of the Lambs, or Russell Crowe in A Beautiful Mind.) I do not know George, but I imagine him as Ryan Bingham—smug, confident, witty, smart—with an independent persona of an almost Hollywood-like nature. So if Clooney is in fact playing himself, is this good acting? I don’t know.  Is it believable? Yes. But is it good acting if you play yourself?  I don’t know. What I do know, is that if George Clooney had a documentary made of his life, I feel like it would be eerily similar to that of “Up in the Air.”

If Clooney is in essence playing himself—what does this mean? I think it means a lot because Clooney is you. Clooney is I. Clooney is the manifestation of our desire to portray idealistic life roles, yet failing to do so on a daily basis. What we find out is that often the character we thought we’d never become, we have become, and our role in real life is that of a sad, lonely bachelor—not of the victorious hero.