Former Man with No Name Eastwood has seen a remarkable directorial career blossom over the past decade, with ambigious, morally complex dramas such as Unforgiven and Million Dollar Baby bringing in awards and popular acclaim. His latest, Gran Torino, is the most straightforward - and straightforwardly entertaining - of these, and reputedly his last screen role.
Indeed, it is this latter knowledge that casts a fascinating, melancholy shadow over the whole picture. Throughout, in spite of the wobbly, if earnest, supporting actors and often clunky dialogue, Clint never falters: it's the perfect epitaph performance to a glittering career.
A Korean War veteran bonds with his Hmong neighbours
He stars as Walt Kowalski, a veteran of the Korean War who lives in a Detroit suburb populated increasingly by immigrant families and gangbangers. His wife having passed away, Kowalski is contemptuous of his sons (one of whom is after his house) and spends his days swigging beer on the porch, railing against his Hmong neighbours.
However, when he catches young Thao (Bee Vang) attempting to steal his prized Gran Torino as part of a gang initiation, so begins an extraordinary journey of redemption for both men, one that will result in drastic consequences when the gang again rears its dangerous head...
Echoes of Clint's Million Dollar Baby performance
Keeping it visually crisp, clear and low key, Eastwood paves the way for a character-led, incisive drama. In truth, the material is overly familiar, especially the old man on a spiritual odyssey angle, and the film's themes are spoon fed to the audience, rather than being allowed to unfold quietly. It is his indomitable screen presence as Kowalski that dominates the film and seals it in the memory.
Sporting an outrageously racist vernacular, Kowalski is the worst kind of prejudiced old codger, yet the actor works overtime to find the humanity between the furious glowering scowl. His gradual, subtle mellowing at the hands of his kindly Hmong neighbours, chiefly friendly older sister Sue (Ahney Her), calls to mind the exemplary moving performance he gave in Million Dollar Baby.
Cleverly implodes notions Of Clint's Western Movie persona
It is in fact a welcome distraction from the effective yet clearly inexperienced Vang and Her. More disconcerting though is the feeling that the film is treading water; Clint has always found something to say in his films yet seems to be floundering here, at least until the daring climax that implodes preconceived notions of Eastwood's gunslinging persona, ending the film, and possibly his acting career, with a refreshing ironic twist.
Yet it's also surprisingly earnest. For a director fond of ambivalence, to have the central character express his identity crisis verbally to himself in a mirror provokes unintentional giggles. Eastwood's decision to less sing, rather growl, over his end credits collaboration with Jamie Cullum is also an odd one, although it adds another string to his multi-talented bow. Old ingredients are, in his hands, given a slick new lustre, even if they rarely escape familiarity.
