There’s little to say about The International, really.  If you’re like me, you’ll have forgotten it within ten minutes of having left the theater.  Much like last year’s attempt at the late-winter international crime thriller (Vantage Point), The International feels like an endless barrage of derivative scenes borrowed from other films.

Clive Owen, once again, stars as the misanthropic anti-hero.  And Naomi Watts seems equally bored in her role. 

In the makers’ defense, this is an incredibly hard genre to get right.  And the shootout in the Guggenheim is pretty fantastic...