November 20, 2009
 
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| The Twilight of Clint Eastwood |
| by Joan Frawley Desmond |
| 1/09/09 |
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During the post-Vatican II push for more "relevant" religion classes, students in my high school "Theology of the Film" course trooped off to see Dirty Harry -- the 1971 drama starring Clint Eastwood as the police lieutenant who violates the law, including the torture of suspects, to protect San Franciscans from a wily serial killer.
Afterward, we held the requisite classroom debate on whether Harry was justified in taking the law into his own hands. Most of us teenagers didn't quite understand the point of the discussion -- Harry did what he had to do, right? But our teacher, a Dominican nun, appeared to be quite torn up.
The memory of that futile classroom exercise surfaced again while I watched Gran Torino, the compelling new film that showcases Eastwood's unique gifts as an actor and director.
Eastwood has vowed that his staring role in Gran Torino will be his final onscreen performance. Thus, filmgoers who savor his austere vision of the autonomous individual establishing his own code of morality may find themselves approaching Dirty Harry and Gran Torino as ideal bookends for his cinematic career. Indeed, as Eastwood surely intended, Dirty Harry's moral dilemma is unexpectedly and memorably resolved in Gran Torino, the tale of Walt Kowalski, a retired autoworker confronting a violent gang and his own morality.
Taken together, the two films provide a compelling exploration of the impact of time and experience on moral action, both individually and collectively.
This is a subject that deeply interests Catholics. Revelation provides us with the essential truths we need to properly navigate the world. Yet our interpretation of these truths is not fixed. The pilgrimage progresses and awareness deepens, opening up new vistas and opportunities for transcendence.
In Dirty Harry, the cocky police lieutenant charts his own course, disdaining a compromised judicial system tied up in knots over the civil rights of criminals. In Gran Torino, a grizzled misanthrope is seduced into a friendship with a Hmong immigrant family and haltingly pursues a dialogue with the Almighty.
The first film takes place in San Francisco, the Golden Gate destination for an exuberant counterculture, cushioned by the nation's unrivaled prosperity. The second unfolds decades later in a tattered neighborhood in Detroit, the toppled icon of America's industrial preeminence. Dirty Harry is a flashy, American cop movie; Gran Torino is a small-scale film that provides an intimate vision of deeply important matters.
Like many of Eastwood's films, Gran Torino documents the painful moral lessons meted out when ordinary, well-intentioned people are forced to deal with uncompromising evil. What do you do? And, after you make your choice, can you still live with yourself?
Directed by Eastwood and written by Nick Schenk, Gran Torino opens with a funeral that marks the end of an era. Walt's wife has died, and he quickly loses all interest in the world. His wife's absence underscores his failure as a father: His two sons rarely visit -- duty alone brings them to his home for brief, angry exchanges. And Walt's neighborhood is going downhill, too: Immigrant households encircle his home, stirring his deeply racist sensibility to new depths of fury.
Things get worse when he catches Thao (Bee Vang), his young Hmong neighbor, stealing his vintage Gran Torino, just about the only surviving object of Walt's affections. The teenager, under pressure from bad elements in the neighborhood, was performing a gang initiation rite.
From his front porch seat, Walt begins to notice the comings and goings of his Hmong neighbors. Eastwood's brilliant characterization of this stiff-necked bigot is deeply enjoyable and often riotously funny. Walt takes note of the Hmong family matriarch and spits over the porch railing; Grandma spits right back. But he's a sharp-eyed defender of his turf, and his protective instincts are engaged when gang members return to grab Thao, and a struggle ensues. Walt pulls out the M-1 rifle he used during the Korean War and forces the gang members to retreat.
Grateful for his assistance, the Hmong community showers Walt with gifts. Then the family presses Thao to make restitution for the attempted robbery by working without pay for Walt.
Fatherless, and a bit of a wimp, Thao keeps Walt at arm's length. But the teenager opens up as the older man shares his knowledge of household repairs and the expert use of tools. Before long, Walt is instructing Thao on the proper etiquette for American males, and then helps him land a girlfriend and a construction job.
Walt's friendship with Thao and his cheeky sister, Sue (Ahney Her), draws him further into the family's increasingly violent struggle with the gang. Walt defends the family with ferocious energy, implicitly underscoring the ineffectual role of the local police. But Walt's vigilante justice also stirs up old memories of the Korean War, when he transgressed the moral law in the defense of a just cause. Half a century later, he neither regrets his wartime actions, nor can he dispel his sense of guilt.
Like Harry Callahan, Walt feels little need to seek the guidance of a minister -- or anyone else, for that matter. He is antagonized by the repeated visits of his parish priest, Father Janovich (Christopher Carley). Father Janovich doggedly attempts to fulfill the final request of Walt's late wife, who wanted her husband to go to confession.
Earnest and soft-spoken, the priest doesn't command Walt's respect, let alone his obedience. Rather, his burgeoning friendship with the Hmong family compels his grudging reassessment of his spiritual state.
Eastwood has described himself as an indifferent churchgoer who finds spiritual solace in nature. But as a director, actor, and screenwriter drawn to the moral dilemmas that define the human condition, he has employed the potent symbols of Catholic belief and authority as surrogates for civilization.
Christ adjured his disciples to turn the other cheek; democratic societies depend upon their citizens' adherence to the rule of law. Yet in the thick of warfare -- tracking a San Francisco serial killer, resisting a North Korean military assault, or battling a gang in Detroit -- such assumptions appear dangerously naïve. Turn the other cheek, wait for the police to handle the bad guys, and leave the vulnerable undefended.
Harry Callahan tires of walking this tightrope and turns in his badge. Almost a half century later, Walt Kowalski takes a different path. Gran Torino proposes a radical response to the problem of evil in the world. Americans, Catholics included, may find themselves embracing Walt's choice.
Joan Frawley Desmond has written for the Wall Street Journal, First Things, and the National Catholic Register, among other publications. Readers have left 14 comments. Nicely written. This article opened new ways of observation for me, not only about life but on how I watch fims and film history as a whole.  Written by victor M. Although the movie seems to be OK, it seems to resort to stereotypes. Clint's character follows the media tradition of protraying Polish Americans as bigots. And yet another "spunky" female. What would really be daring is to have a female who is demure or at least a afraid of gangs. Written by Jay S Interesting article. I'll try to see the movie. Written by Dan Deeny Jay, I agree that the characters are somewhat stereotyped (Walt, I think, more than any other) but Sue's character being "spunky" is crucial to the development of the story. For Walt to ever develop any kind of relationship with a "demure" girl would not be believable- the only way he and the quieter Thao bonded was over guy stuff. The characters are very sharply drawn and, towards the beginning of the movie, a bit one-dimensional. It's more about the action, the choices people make, than their personal feelings. Which is, in itself, a very interesting difference from most movies I've ever seen. I was genuinely surprised by the ending (though others might have found it predictable), and it was very Catholic indeed. Written by Chrissy G Joan: Having recently reacquainted myself with the violent, bitterly cynical, chronically unappreciated guardian angel persona of Harry Callahan, I found this review nicely relevant to my Eastwood musings. And while I can’t claim to have been particularly “torn up” by the San Francisco cop’s approach during my viewings of Dirty Harry, the way in which Eastwood appears to be using Gran Torino to intentionally (or semi-intentionally, at least) comment on some of his past roles is very interesting. I’d been undecided on whether to see this film or not, because I find Eastwood’s more recent films both thematically complex and almost unrelentingly bleak. And while I greatly appreciate the former, I can only take so much of the latter. (Mystic River, depending on how you interpret the ending, was right on the edge of my tolerance level.) But you’ve convinced me to give Torino a try. A number of other reviews I’ve read seem to suggest that, while Kowalski’s character is intriguing and Eastwood’s performance dynamic, the other roles are under drawn and underperformed. Does that seem like a fair criticism to you? It wouldn’t be the first time folks had a hard time matching up with Eastwood on screen, but it would seem a bit inconsistent with Eastwood’s reputation as an “actor’s director.” Perhaps that’s why he’s vowing – once again – to stay behind the camera in the future. Written by Joseph Susanka Joseph, I guess you could make a case that the secondary characters weren't weren't strong. However, Gran Torino is also setting a different tone, as I mentioned in my review. It's an intimate, muted tone, almost like a cross between a 1950s tv show and a home movie. I may not be describing it correctly, but the idea is that this is ordinary life, not Hollywood's version of real life. It draws the viewer in--and then it goes in a very different direction, as the NYT reviewer notes. You might check out that review. I agreed with it. Written by Joan Desmond Thanks for the suggestion, Joan. The NY Times review is also excellent, and reinforces the desire your own review produced: I'm now pretty certain that I want to see the film. The "canny manipulator of his own iconographic presence" really caught my attention, as well as the notion of the film as a sort of requiem, though the piece's title suggests Manohla Dargis may not think that's strictly true, either. (I noticed with interest that the Times' article on Eastwood, published a couple days before the review, says that Eastwood himself admits that he may not be quite ready to step behind the camera for good, after all.) Written by Joseph Susanka I agree: Eastwood is a master at manipulating his iconic status. The fact is, my own reaction to Gran Torino is shaped by that 1971 viewing of Dirty Harry, Mystic River, and even the misbegotten Million Dollar Baby. Eastwood has shaped my understanding of such matters, as any skilled artist will do. I almost added at the end of my article--but didn't--that today's high school religion teachers should avoid taking their students to see Gran Torino. Most likely, the students will have the same clueless reaction I had. Instead, they can see the film on their own. Twenty years later, they'll really "get" Gran Torino--without any help from their teacher. Written by Joan Desmond The Outlaw Josey Wales is Eastwood's best movie, yet is grossly underrated. It has it all in perfect balance: pathos, humor, action, plenty of great one-liners.... Written by Augustine This is a thought-provoking review, but it fails to mention one over-riding fact: the pervasive, offensive language used throughout the film. I understand the point of the language, but it seems to me that Eastwood went way over the top with awful, threatening, offensive, sexist, raciest language. He could have made the same point with a little less, it seems to me. The profuse use of the most degrading language was way over the top, in my opinion. These are words that at one time would never have been uttered in private, let alone in a vehicle of "mass entertainment". I appreciated the underlying story and the gentle transformation of this hardened man. There was a lot of good humor in the film, as well. But, the bad language overshadowed what was good about this film, and Eastwood's idea of "what makes an American man" is ridiculous, as if teaching this young boy to be obnoxious and to swear in the most degrading terms will make his life easier in the future. I saw the film last night, and I am still feeling battered by the language. What right does Hollywood, or Eastwood, have to debase our culture in such a manner? It is no wonder that teenagers no longer know how to behave anywhere. I'm still blushing... Written by keeptherepublic Keep the republic has a point: my review should have noted the bad language that pervades Gran Torino. Normally, I also am sensitive about bad language. The obscenities in The Departed, for example, ruined the film for me. In this case, though, the language didn't bother me. I'll keep that in mind next time around. Written by Joan Desmond I appreciate the sensitivities over the rough language in the film, but have to note that Walt seems to have a very strict civil code about not using profanity in front of women, and even corrects Sue for her vulgarity. His jaw busting with the boys came across as authentic for that generation of blue collar workers, though I thought the supporting actors and the dialog in the barber shop and construction trailer scenes were incredibly wooden. That to me was the only obvious flaw in a very well done movie. Well written review, Mrs. Desmond. Written by Steven Schloeder One thing that sticks in the memory about The Outlaw Josey Wales is where Clint Eastwood chews tobacco and keeps spitting on the dog. My Dad always found that hilarious! Written by Michael Petek "I'm still blushing...." Rejoice that you still have the capacity to blush. "O age, thou art shamed.* O shame, where is thy blush?**" -Shakespeare, Julius Caesar*, Hamlet** This is this putrid age's epitaph. Written by Augustine |
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