Eastwood in his finest performance ever

Rating: 8/10 (22 January 2009)

Growing old certainly seems to agree with Clint Eastwood. For popular as he was at the box office, Eastwood, in the early stages of his career at least, never seemed entirely comfortable in an actor's skin - his performances often coming across as stiff and wooden as he mumbled his way through perpetualy clenched teeth and the barest minimum of dialogue (it wasn't for no reason that critics always charitably described his early characters as "laconic"). Yet, now that he's encased in an old man's body, that stiffness couldn't be more organic to the characters he's playing - or more effortlessly natural. In "Gran Turino," Eastwood returns for one last time to the role of the lone gunslinger - whether it be on the western frontier as the Man With No Name or on the meanest of urban mean streets as Dirty Harry - that made him an icon for a generation of moviegoers who grew up on his films. Yet, it is a return tempered by the kind of wisdom and restraint that only age and a lifetime's worth of experience can bring.
Eastwood plays Walt Kowalski, a septuagenarian who is practically the walking definition of a grumpy old man. A Korean War vet still haunted by the memories of what he saw and did there, Walt is a prickly, snarling, irreligious cynic who doesn't much cotton to the informality and lax standards of the modern world. He also happens to be the most "lovable" bigot to come our way since Archie Bunker, a thoroughgoing racist who doesn't hesitate to spit out every politically incorrect epithet he can lay his hands on when the situation calls for it (although, in all fairness, he doesn't hesitate to refer to himself as a "Pollack" from time to time as well). The key thing to understand about Walt, however, is that while he may be filled with venomous hatred for much of his fellow Man, he knows how to cut through a line of BS when he hears it (much to the consternation of his heighborhood priest, who keeps proferring Walt a chance at salvation if he'll just go to confession). Distraught at the loss of his beloved wife, Walt wages a one-man war against the army of immigrants that has "invaded" his formerly all-white, lower middle class neighborhood in recent years. Walt is particularly irked by the Asian family who's moved in next door, until he's befriended by the teenage daughter, who slowly and cautiously brings him into their world. Walt, in turn, takes her younger brother under his wing, helping him stand up to the gang members who taunt and threaten him on almost a daily basis.
"Gran Torino" is fraught with any number of potential pitfalls, all of which are deftly sidestepped by Nick Schenk's screenplay, Eastwood's direction and, most notably, Eastwood's performance in the starring role. The image of an old man single-handedly staring down a bunch of hardcore gangbangers could easily have elicited laughs under other circumstances, but because Eastwood draws upon our cherished memories of his well established image as a tough guy, we are able to suspend our disbelief and accept it all at face value. This is one time when the audience's previous familiarity with and affection for an actor truly pays off in a big way. Moreover, even though we know where the story is going - that this unyielding curmudgeon will eventually be won over and softened by his experience with this alien culture and the people in it - the easygoing tone of the film keeps it from becoming preachy or mawkish. In fact, what strikes one most is just how funny so much of this movie turns out to be, and this is due almost exclusively to Eastwood's sly, often playful performance. With a disarming cynic's grin and a sardonic twinkle in his eye, Eastwood makes a potentially one-note character into a fully fleshed-out human being.
For while the other performances in the film are uneven at best, "Gran Torino" contains the best work Eastwood has ever done on screen. The movie serves as a valedictory of sorts for a man whose most recent movie triumphs have all taken place on the other side of the camera. This role is like that last walk the hero takes down the middle of main street before heading off into the sunset. It's a bittersweet image befitting one of the genuine cinematic icons of all time.