Clive Owen

Clive Owen often keeps his face still and lets his eyes do the work. We are drawn to the sense that something is being held back, particularly when the man doing the withholding is difficult to like. He is less useful when looking troubled is all a part requires.

Croupier (1998) brought him international attention as Jack Manfred, a cool, detached narrator at the centre of a casino thriller. That reluctance to charm is a useful starting point for his work. Doug Liman's The Bourne Identity (2002) uses him more briefly as the Professor, within a spy chase that is urgent without losing its tenderness. Matt Damon and Franka Potente give that film its human interest. We recommend it warmly, though it is not the place to look for a sustained Owen performance.

In Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller's Sin City (2005), he is Dwight, comfortably at home among the hard-boiled men and hard black-and-white images. That is good casting, though the permitted emotions are narrow. We grew tired of the repeated brutality, and it was Mickey Rourke's Marv who kept us caring. Rourke finds more feeling inside the film's aggressive style than Owen does. Owen fits the film, but fitting it is not enough to make Dwight its most involving character.

Closer (2004) offers a sharper test: his Larry is raw and confrontational without needing a great deal of gesture. Alfonso Cuarón's Children of Men (2006) asks for physical as well as emotional weight from his Theo Faron. The move towards sustained television work brought Dr John W. Thackery in Steven Soderbergh's period medical drama The Knick (2014–2015). That longer form suits an actor whose small changes of expression reward attention, provided the writing gives him something to express. Start with Croupier for the detachment, then Closer for the confrontation.