One dimensional, condescending, and chauvinistic.

Rating: 5/10 (28 February 2009)

Clint Eastwood growls and huffs and puffs through this oh too predictable-derivative of the old west-American fable. Grizzled white guy saves poor neighborhood immigrants from the neighborhood punks. Clint gets to reprise his Dirty Harry routine, with the difference that this time he's almost 80, a racist, and bitter. His character is embarrassingly open about his narrow mindedness, an openness that would last one New York minute used on Blacks or Hispanics, but seems to bounce off the Hmong neighbors, who are probably equally bigoted but have the manners to keep it to themselves.
Clint reluctantly takes on the neighbor's son-who he had to drive out of his garage at gun point, after he tried to ineptly steal his Gran Torino-as a token of shame remuneration. In a week or so he's shaped him up from a diffident nerd into a more acceptable American: one who's willing to think about standing up for himself, and his family, against the neighborhood punks.
He also befriends the boy's sister, after saving her, in an embarrassingly retro scene, from the stereotypical black guys behaving badly. She educates him, against his protestations, in the more civilized ways of her people.
Unfortunately the screenplay relies on stilted, unrealistic dialog, almost as bad as if Dirty Harry had written it himself. The characters are one dimensional, and the relationships are drawn like a comic book.
In the end, inevitably, Clint rides off to do battle, after the punks take revenge on his neighbors for his own attempt to exact justice. His method, however, is definitely Christ like, even though it also is self serving. Clint is dying of cancer.
I've come to admire Eastwood's directorial work over the years, but from time to time he stumbles away from his simple, honest, style back into the artlessness of much of his earlier acting work.