Mr. Clint Eastwood rarely ever disappoints. And Gran Torino is no exception.
At the age of 78—approximately the age he was when the film came out—Mr. Eastwood puts men half his age to shame. Action heroes like Channing Tatum or Jason Statham cannot compare to Eastwood’s menace. His grimace and growls can strike fear easier than any American M1 Garand rifle.
I think the poster says it all.
For Mr. Eastwood’s last acting role (or so he says) he has chosen to portray Walt Kowalski, a prejudiced Korean War veteran who is as old-fashioned as the Ford pick-up truck that he drives around in. The film opens with Walt’s wife’s funeral. It is attended by his children and grandchildren who blatantly disrespect him. Yet that does not seem to bother Walt, who harbors no respect for them either. Sure, he loves them, but how can he hold them in high esteem when all they seem to want to do is claim his positions, particularly his prized 1972 Gran Torino, before he’s even dead? So Walt carries on with his business as usual: mowing the lawn, drinking his afternoon beer on his porch, and watching baseball games on the TV.
Walt’s routine life, however, takes a strange turn when he accidentally saves his Hmong neighbor Thao (Bee Vang), even though Thao had tried to steal Walt’s Gran Torino days earlier (and who wouldn’t want to steal this beaut? The GTS pictured isn’t the one from in the film. The one used was teal). His ruffian cousin and his gang were hell-bent on tormenting Thao, but Walt intimdates with as much bravado as he did as Dirty Harry. This leads to various members of the Hmong community bestowing upon him very generous gifts of gratitude, all of which Walt wants nothing to do with. But Walt’s chivalry does not end with this one incident. Despite his prejudices, Walt saves Thao’s sister Sue (Ahney Her) from a gang of thugs who were set on sexually assaulting her. In this scene his badassery (yes, I can make up words for such an occasion as this) is only comparable to that of 24’s Jack Bauer, who is simply infallible. This event opens the door of friendship even wider for Walt, who rather begrudgingly (at first) develops a friendship with Thao.
Besides the obvious bigotry and violence, at the film’s heart are the issues of racism. For a man who served in the Korean War and because of this is prejudiced against “gooks” (and practically every other race besides his own) it seems poetic that he should realize that he has more in common with those folks than his “own spoilt rotten family.” This epiphany occurs fairly early on and is what redeems Walt to the audience.
The plot afterwards develops slowly but not tediously. It is eloquent in its dissemination thus we, the audience, gradually become attached to Walt, even though he is surly, wry and insulting. We begin to see that this is a man stricken by the guilt and burden of fighting in—and surviving—a war. As always, Eastwood’s use of lighting and camera work delineates the plot exquisitely. It is subtle the work that Mr. Eastwood does and therein lies his directorial genius: if an audience can forget the presence of the discourse (or production), than it can focus purely on the story.
The ending, nevertheless, is expected. That, however, doesn’t make it any less climatic or Eastwood’s film any less spectacular.
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