Gran Torino (2009)

There’s been talk that Gran Torino may be Clint Eastwood’s swan song as an actor. If this is true–and I, for one, hope it isn’t–then it’s a fitting end for a man who dedicated his early career to building pop culture icons and his later years to deconstructing them. Even a cursory glance at his filmography will reveal more than a few familiar names: “Dirty” Harry Callahan, Philo Beddoe, William Munny, The Man with No Name, Josey Wales, and Rowdy Yates. Thanks to Eastwood’s skillful turn as both director and star of Gran Torino, we can also add Walt Kowalski’s name to that rather impressive resume.

We’re first introduced to Walt during the Catholic funeral service for his beloved wife. As old friends of the family offer their condolences, Walt surveys his arriving grandchildren and can barely contain his contempt for their lack of respect. This doesn’t go unnoticed by his two sons, Mitch (Brian Haley) and Steve (Brian Howe), and they openly discuss their father’s constant disapproval. This also extends to those around him, and Walt doesn’t even try to hide his disgust for the hollow sermon delivered on death and eternal life by the youthful Father Janovich (Christopher Carley).

See, Walt knows a little something about death, himself. As a veteran of the Korean War, he killed well over a dozen men, something which haunts him every day of his life. He followed that up by working on an assembly line at a Ford plant in Detroit. But the lessons and values learned during his life seem to be crumbling all around him; one of his sons makes a living selling foreign cars, and Walt’s once-proud neighborhood is now falling into disrepair and filling up with Asian immigrants known as Hmong (whom Walt not-so-lovingly refers to as “zipper heads,” “zips,” “gooks,” or “swamp rats”).

Once the mourners have left, and Walt has brushed off the attempts of Father Janovich to convince him to attend confession (he promised Walt’s wife on her deathbed), the crusty retiree goes back to a simple existence with only his Labrador Retriever named Daisy as a companion. The quiet doesn’t last long, however, as the shy kid next door, Thao Vang Lor (Bee Vang), tries to steal Walt’s prized 1972 Gran Torino Sport as part of a gang initiation. Walt isn’t pleased–especially considering that he helped build the car on the assembly line–and he forces Thao to flee by sticking his M1 rifle in the young man’s face.

But before long, Walt ends up saving Thao from the very same gang, and a short time later he swoops in to rescue Thao’s sister Sue (Ahney Her) from the clutches of three black troublemakers. Walt quickly becomes a local hero, and he’s flooded with gifts from his grateful Hmong neighbors. Quicker than you can say “unlikely friendship,” Walt has taken Thao under his wing, and his long-held racist ideas slowly fade as a genuine affection blossoms between the two men of vastly different generations. The gang problems continue, however, and Walt realizes that he’ll have to take a stand if Thao and Sue are to ever have a future. This leads to an outcome far more bittersweet than those found in most Eastwood films, but it’s also entirely in keeping with Gran Torino’s themes of forgiveness and redemption.

Walt Kowalski is great fun to watch, as Eastwood immediately imbues the character with a certain magnetic personality. Wrinkled, but still in great shape, it’s impossible to take your eyes off of Walt the character or Eastwood the man. Disgusted with his own family–his granddaughter has the audacity to ask him for his couch when he dies–and disappointed by what he sees as the American Dream going down the toilet all around him, Walt can’t do more than tend to his garden, fly his flag, and generally try to keep to himself. When he befriends Thao, however, the old warhorse finds himself with a renewed purpose, and their scenes together allow Walt to both nurture and berate the young man at will.

Bee Vang can’t match the intensity of his co-star, however, so a number of the scenes are somewhat robbed of their full emotional impact. The final meeting between Walt and Thao is a particular letdown, and this can once again be blamed on the inexperience of the young actor. It’s not bad, mind you: it’s just not as good as it could’ve been.

Beneath the surface, many of Eastwood’s characters have demonstrated smartass tendencies, and Walt is no exception. No matter how tense the situation, Eastwood still finds ways to alleviate the pressure with a well-timed quip in his distinctive gravelly voice. While this has always been part of his charm as an actor, there are moments in Gran Torino when the comedy seems forced. Take, for example, several scenes at the local barbershop, where good-natured racial slurs are thrown about as though part of a larger symphony of political incorrectness. In fact, all of Walt’s older friends seem to behave in this fashion, greeting one another by immediately insulting the other’s ethnic heritage.

There’s also a scene where Walt visits a doctor’s office and finds himself to be the only white person there. While this is certainly possible, it’s the wide variety of ethnicities present which seem to make the scene slightly exaggerated. Frankly, the place looks more like a Noah’s Ark for humanity than a doctor’s waiting room. Walt grunts in disapproval, and the audience laughs, but I wonder if that scene wouldn’t have worked better without playing it for laughs (especially considering the underlying reasons for Walt‘s visit)?

It also appears that everyone in Walt’s neighborhood is either a sloppy immigrant or gang member. The place doesn’t get cleaned up until Walt sets his mind to it, and the fact that he’s a gun-wielding white man is more than enough to scare most ethnic toughs into submission. At times, he seems like the great white savior sent in to help the masses, and one of the last shots of Walt shows him stretched out in a Christ-like pose. That might’ve been overdoing it just a tad.

But other than a few unnecessary visual references to Jesus, Eastwood the director is in top form. Subtle and never rushed, scenes are always given enough time to properly develop. He’s also the master of the slow zoom into a close-up, allowing the camera (and the actors) to wring every ounce of emotion out of a moment.

Gran Torino was the biggest financial success of Eastwood’s storied career, making almost $250 million worldwide. It may not be his best film ever–that honor still goes to Unforgiven–but it makes for an interesting bookend when paired with 1955’s Revenge of the Creature, his first (uncredited) movie role. Much like Walt’s precious Gran Torino, Clint Eastwood has only gotten better with age; here’s hoping he’s got a few more miles left in the tank.