she’s fucked. she’s so fucked.
















Spoiler alert: Karen Crowder (Tilda Swinton) is fucked. She’s so fucked. Michael Clayton (George Clooney) isn’t the guy you kill. He’s the guy you buy. If this movie is about any one thing in particular, beyond the moral abyss of corporations and the ways in which community and meaning will pop up like connected air sacs on a sheet of bubble wrap, it’s about the wisdom of proportionate response. You can’t kill Michael Clayton because his kind is unkillable. He’s an interchangeable part of the machine. And if you don’t get that? If you push the Michael Claytons out of the moral abyss and leave him on the lip, casting his eyes around as he remembers the truth of humanity? Then you’re fucked. You’re so fucked.

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