Gran Torino
Review by Matthew Rodgers
Clint Eastwood has gracefully morphed into cinema’s premier auteur, refusing to succumb to Fincher, Spielberg and any number of the young Hollywood upstarts they leave in their own wake, he is a storyteller extraordinaire, and an octogenarian one at that.
The 1972 Gran Torino car, a gleaming replica of a bygone era, something you could level at Clint had he not maintained a sky-high standard of quality with Million Dollar Baby and last years underrated Changeling. It is also the only thing in the world that curmudgeonly old racist, Walt Kowalski holds dear. He hates his neighbours – “barbarians”, his children – “would it have killed you to buy American?” – he grumbles at his son’s car (Walt being a former Ford plant employee it also gives GT a contextual resonance most directors would be out of touch with), and lives life by a prejudice code that has refused to evolve with the world around him.
So it’s a really bad idea when young neighbour Thao (Bee Vang) is coerced into stealing the object of Walt’s affection. Cue generation examination 101 and a fantastic array of performances gently captured in what could easily be titled “Where are they now? The Harry Callahan OAP Years”.
How ever many remaining performances in front of the camera Eastwood has the desire to deliver to an audience spoilt by decades of excellence, this will be up there with Dirty Harry and Unforgiven’s Will Munny. Full of audible sighs and the groans of a creaking man pissed of at the world, it’s a performance of such screen engulfing magnitude that only Clint could make the journey of this grumpy old stereotype utterly believable and enjoyable. Despite the numerous weighty themes, it’s one of redemption that permeates Gran Torino and gives it its very human core.
Walt’s relationships with the kids next door provide the most engrossing elements of the story. Credit to the young actors for holding their own against the gravitas of a real icon, there is a lot of fun to be had with the way that they dismiss Walt’s prejudice about their Hmong culture with their own put-downs. Anhey Her as the determined Sue is a real find and delivers a sweetly infectious turn. Walt’s timely intervention to help her avoid a street corner altercation, ending with Eastwood miming the use of a gun with his fingers towards her attackers, is powerful stuff.
Behind the camera, as you would expect Eastwood continues to excel in understatement. The films biggest undoing though is the need to include a grand-stand finish to hammer home the salvation of Walt. And with all due respect to Mr. Eastwood the closing credit warbling is possibly taking the auteur definition a step-to-far.
