The fitting death of a hero.

Rating: 10/10 (19 January 2010)

Clint Eastwood is not of the Gary Oldman school of acting whereby we might be presented with a brilliantly studied portrayal of some diabolical villain or famous historical figure. Instead he gives us essentially the same character in more or less every film: a grizzled loner, troubled by wrongs he has seen and/or feels responsible for, with a sense of duty that impels him to some heroic act. Through his toughness and sardonic humour, Clint's misanthrope makes a comment on American society and its foundations in the fierce self-reliance and isolation of the early pioneers.
Nor is he of the many of the schools of modern movie directing that seem nowadays to abound: the ultra-realistic, the fantastical, the futuristic, the sentimentally comedic.
The films that have earned Clint greater critical appraisal have tended to focus on the silent sufferings of these troubled antiheroes, most notably perhaps in Unforgiven. However, many of the finer and more subtle merits of his work subsist in the stylistic elements worked out in many of the earlier, more superficially lightweight movies such as 'Play Misty For Me', 'Every Which Way But Loose' and 'Bronco Billy'.
Take, for example, the soundtracks of these movies. All kinds of American ethnic music are to be found, serving not only to showcase Clint's eclectic taste, but, more importantly, to give a panoramic view of American 20th Century cultural history. And ethnic groups and their traditions are represented in abundance. There is to be found throughout an awareness of the defining element of America: its polyglot culture, its very resistance to definition.
Moreover, Clint's movies stand or fall principally on scriptwriting, acting, directing and cinematography, without the need for gimmicky subject matter or excessive special effects. His craft is finely and patiently wrought through decades of experience, both in front of and behind the lens. There is no need to resort to overwrought emotional manipulation (Spielberg) or shock value (Tarantino). He can tell an interesting story with maturity and at a proper pace.
Through decades of exposure Clint's trademarks (the sour-faced grunts; the angry grimaces when facing-off against the villains; the gravelly whisper; the tough-talking, gun-toting, righteous loner as protagonist; the godless wanderer who is nevertheless unable to reject the possibility of a greater good; the commonplace language and subject matter; the importance of physical strength and vigour; the cheerful but wistful soundtracks to which the closing credits invariably play out) have become elevated to the status of hallmarks of a genre. Clint has become an auteur in the Bergmanian sense, able to convey his message with increasing effectiveness through a refinement of his style.
This film made me consider the extent to which Clint, as a movie icon, has been a staple figure at the heart of cinematic history for the last 50 years. Both his on-screen persona and his movie-making style have been with us, for better or for worse, all this time. Watching the closing credits of Gran Torino play out against the backdrop of a tree-lined American sea- front to a gently lyrical soundtrack of Jamie Cullum singing with piano accompaniment, I suddenly realised that this was might be something akin to a closing bulletin of Clint's message. The death of Walt Kowalski assumed a new poignancy. Perhaps it was not only he, but a very genre itself that was at an end.
As a redress to detractors of Gran Torino I would invite them to examine the movie on its own terms, as an example of a genre. That genre is the Clint Eastwood movie. Rather than highlight weaknesses in the acting and the plausibility of the storyline, perhaps we should consider the movie's success in presenting a portrayal of Clint's movie persona and how, in dealing with the challenges facing him, he shows a fortitude we can only aspire to. Naturally, it would not do to go around threatening young Negro gang members with a pretend pistol in real life. But this is precisely the value of Clint's message. It is for us to be thoroughly entertained and satisfied by the way our hero faces down his foes, even though we could not and ought not do so for ourselves in our own lives. Clint's hero is not meant to be realistic, or an example of how to live. He is meant to be a movie character. In this sense, Clint's movies are pleasingly bereft of sanctimony, but full of moral value.
It does not seem as though this movie represents the closing chapter of Clint Eastwood's movie making history and I for one would certainly not wish that history to come to an end anytime soon. However, like Sibelius' Seventh and last symphony, this film seems to bring the various threads and issues of its author's earlier work to a point where no further working out is necessary.