Clooney does exceptional work in this movie as a fixer not a trial lawyer, too dirty to be considered a partner, too much of a lawyer to be a real cop. He’s tired, looks like he’s beaten down from years of bending congressmen and rich white shoplifters. Wilkinson’s great, with his truthful mania, and Pollack steals the scene at times with his corporate coldness, but I always go back to Clooney’s transformation. His face goes through so much during the movie. His personal life is in shambles and the only thing he has remaining is his dead friend’s memory and a cab ride to nowhere.

“Shiva the God of death.”