Saturday Night At The Movies



Gran Torino: The Tao of duct tape

By Dennis Hartley















“Which one of you punks knocked over my McCain sign?”



Clint Eastwood certainly knows his core audience. Just when you thought that he had ceded his screen persona as one of the iconic tough guys for the more respectable mantle of a sage lion who makes prestige films, Clint Classic is back with a vengeance in Gran Torino, armed with an M-1, a cherry 1970s muscle car and a handy catchphrase (“Get off my lawn!”). Oh, don’t panic- Clint the Sage Director is still at the helm, and Clint the Actor is smart enough to keep it real and “play his age”. This isn’t Dirty Harry with a walker; it’s more like The Visitor…with an attitude. There’s also a Socially Relevant Message, an Important Theme, and even Redemption (if you’re into that sort of thing).

Look in the dictionary under “cantankerous”, and you’ll likely see a picture of Walt Kowalski (hmm, wait a minute-a film starring a 1970s muscle car and a protagonist named Kowalski…now does that ring a bell with anyone else?) Kowalski (Eastwood) is a retired Michigan auto worker and Korean War vet who has recently buried his wife, and along with her, any remaining semblance of social grace or desire for human interaction he may have once possessed. When he is not busy spurning “sympathy visits” from his adult son (Brian Haley) and his family or his late wife’s priest (Christopher Carley) he seems perfectly content to skulk about his Highland Park house, quaffing many beers whilst scowling and grousing to himself about the Southeast Asians who keep moving into “his” neighborhood. He is particularly chagrined about the Hmong family next door; the terms that Kowalski uses to describe them are derogatory racist epithets, which I am loathe to repeat here. Suffice it to say that those words are said often…and with gusto.

He certainly doesn’t mince words when he reacts to his son and daughter-in-law’s not-so-subtle attempts to pump him for his thoughts on estate planning, nor when the tenacious young priest begins sniffing around for dibs on his soul; he ostensibly informs all the circling vultures that he would prefer they fuck off so he can return to puttering around the house, muttering to himself and fetishizing over his beloved ’72 Gran Torino.

Kowalski’s innate mistrust of his neighbors appears to be justified when he surprises a prowler in his garage late one evening, and it turns out to be Thao (Bee Vang) the teenage boy from the Hmong family next door. Initially unbeknownst to Kowalski, the otherwise respectful and straight-arrow Thao has been pressured by his n’er do well older cousin, a Hmong youth gang leader, into attempting to steal the Gran Torino as an initiation rite. After Kowalski inadvertently saves Thao from the gang’s retaliation by chasing them off his property with the able assistance of his trusty service rifle (insert catch phrase here) his porch is festooned daily by an unwanted barrage of gifts, food and flowers, which is the Hmong family’s way of informing him that they are forever indebted for his act of “kindness” (to Kowalski’s abject horror). In further keeping with cultural tradition, Thao is ordered by the family elders to make amends for the attempted theft by offering his services to Kowalski as a handyman/manual laborer for the summer. Thanks to some cultural bridging and good will on the part of Thao’s sister (Ahney Her), Kowalski slowly warms to the family and becomes a father figure/mentor to Thao, teaching him how to “stand his ground” while still retaining a sense of responsibility for his actions.

Yes, I know what you’re thinking- there is a bit of a “wax on, wax off” vibe that recalls The The Karate Kid, but first-time feature film scripter Nick Schenk (who adapted from a story he developed with Dave Johannson) delves a little deeper into the heart of darkness with his variation on the theme. Whereas the aforementioned film was largely about overcoming the fear of failure, Gran Torino deals with a veritable litany of primal fears, namely the fear of The Other, the fear of death, and the fear of losing one’s soul.

That being said, there is still a surprising amount of levity in Schenk’s screenplay, and it provides a marvelous canvas onto which Eastwood can stretch his underrated proclivity (as an actor) for deadpan comedy (I have said for many years that he and Jim Jarmusch could make beautiful music together if they could find the right project to collaborate on). One scene in particular that stands out in this regard involves a parting of wisdom positing that any logistical hurdle you may encounter in your journey can be defeated with a “…pair of Vise-Grips, a roll of duct tape and some WD-40” (which reminded me of Douglas Adams’ sage advice to “Never go anywhere without your towel.”)

The film’s only flaw (and this can be a major distraction for some) is the casting of non-professional actors in most of the Hmong roles. For secondary or background characters, this is not so much of an issue, but concerning two more prominent (and very crucial) roles, I did find myself cringing at some of the community-theater level line deliveries.

Eastwood’s direction is assured as always, but I think the main reason to see this film is for his work in front of the camera; I would consider this one of his career-best performances and certainly his most well fleshed-out characterization since Unforgiven . All I know is-I should be so lucky to be as convincing as a badass when I’m pushing 80.

Previous posts with related themes:

Crash/The Landlord

The Visitor


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