Barack Obama Meet Clint Eastwood
"Gran Torino" gives us Walt Kowalski, a sanitized version of Clint Eastwood's "Dirty Harry", the vigilante cop who frees the hippie-sogged, sexy streets of San Francisco from vermin (less politely called human scum) leaving the hippies free to do their dirty stuff -- and Harry Callahan free to get down and dirty, too. That's democracy, for you.
"Gran Torino" aims for higher truths than those of the groin and the guts. It's the wrong choice. In "Gran Torino", the Oscarized Clint Eastwood plays to his sensitive (insufferable) "Bridges of Madison County" persona, and we feel ripped off.
Let's face it, we should have never believed the adverts claiming that we were going to get the best of both Clints. We should hav been wary of the 90% of www.rottentomatos.com extolling Mr. Eastwood's development into a cinema auteur demi-god.
One should never forget that apotheosis is just one more step on the evolutionary road to boredom and B.S. But Eastwood is crafty, and like Woody Allen on the downhill, there's always reminders of a more glorious past. Your entire macho would have to be dead not to enjoy as Mr. Eastwood impishly pointing his finger at the enemy as if it were a gun. And then there's the high point of the entire movie, when Eastwood beats up a young bully three score years less than his four score years. There was so much macho macho juice on the screen that I forgot that Kowalski had been spitting up blood like a consumption victim in "Death in Venice".
Eastwood is as smart a filmmaker. He uses all that nifty foreplay to trick us into thinking that Walk Kowalski is going to give us a Hally Callahan catharsis made of pure adolescent male voyeurism ... But no! In the final act, Eastwood makes a last minute appeal for sainthood and he sends Kowalski down in a hail (shitstorm) of bullets. [I should be sorry to have ruined the ending for those who have yet to seen the flick... but I am not.]
This was more than some of my movie cronies could take. A rather mean-spirited, politically incorrect acquaintance of mine (certainly not a friend) insisted that it all makes sense because Harry Callahan is Irish and San Francisco is hot, white, and a paradise for straight males (all those women and so few real men), while Walt Kowalski is Polish and Detroit is cold, black, and a paradise for absolutely nothing except the depression of your choosing, be it psychological or financial.
A literary-minded acquaintance did a hermeneutic riff on this and stated that In our post-American, post-contemporary world in which national identity is dead and cities take on their own social structure and cultural identity sometimes known as neo-tribalism, San Francisco IS LOST IN TRANSLATION without the sex and Detroit IS TRANSFORMERS without the bateries..
This analysis was stupid, but it sounded good it at the time. Which is about the best I can say about "Gran Torino".
"Gran Torino" is a simple, Frank Capra update about sacrifice and doing the right thing. Like Capra, and the Obama Administration, Eastwood offers his own impossible, "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" blueprint for re-building America. In the best Hollywood-Washington tradition, "Gran Torino" wears its heart on its sleeve and asks us not us not that a movie make sense, but rather whether a movie can help us save do our duty to save our country.
"Gran Torino" is Clint Eastwood's plan to bail out Detroit. Following his wife's death, Walt Kowalski has nothing better to do than polish his Gran Torino and "bail out" the Hmong immigrant boy, Thao, who lives next store. Poor Thao. Not only does he get bossed around by his smart ass sister, he has no luck with the girls, and, to top it off, Thao is getting harrassed by a Hmong gang led by his bad, faux doppelgänger cousin who has given him an ultimatum: Join us, Momma's boy, or you're dead meat.
You see, the cops can't do anything about the gang because the gang has the neighborhood is terrorized and nobody will testify against them. So when gang forces Thao to try to steal Kowalski's Gran Torino, Thao can't say no. And to make a long story a bit less tedious, Kowalski will end up stepping in to save the "gouks" the "slopes", as he calls them, the same S.O.B.s he sliced and diced in Korea 50 years ago. He does it, we learn, because Thao's family has real family values, the one's Kowalski's own kids and grandchildren have lost.
For 90 odd minutes, Eastwood stacks up the events of America's decline until 80-year old Kowalski is all that is left between Thao getting his ass kicked forever, the end of America, anarchy and the demise of mankind.
It's a tough, convoluted sell. The whole, orchestrated point of "Gran Torino" is to get Walk Kowalski to the moment when he organizes his own death by gangland assassination in front of the entire hood so that there will be so many witnesses, this time, that the police can finally arrest the bad guys.
To make sure we get the point, Eastwood show us Kowalski riddled with bullets, the arrival en masse of the police, several takes of the handcuffed killers getting carted away, and we even hear the voice of authority intone, THIS TIME THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO WILL TESTIFY.
All of which means: for years the gangs have ruled the streets and only human sacrifice can put a stop to the violence and lawlessness. (By the way, just so we don't think Kowalski is a fool, we are led to believe earlier that he may be dying of an incurable disease and thus his act of heroism is more like euthanasia than suicde.)
Now that I have spoiled the plot of the movie for those of you who haven't seen it yet, let's turn to the slippery slope (Kowalski calls the Asians "slopes") of symbolism on which Gran Torino treads.
Setting: Detroit, working class neighborhood, Kowalski, disciplined craftsman who worked all his life in a car factory, now lives in a neighborhood "taken over" by immigrants, good and bad, who will either save the neighborhood or kill it. The "Gran Torino" is a Ford, Kowalski's baby. The Gran Torino, like the cars still built in Detroit, just sits there on the driveway, looking pretty, doing nothing. The Gran Torino is a plot device. The boy tries to steal it to impress his cousin, gets caught, his mother does the traditional thing, putting Thao at the service of Kowalski whom he has harmed, and Kowalski takes on the reformation of the boy, and in so doing, changes himself.
But if Kowalski can save his own soul, that does not mean for a minute that he can save the neighborhood, just as Obama has not chance of saving Detroit.
That's where the symbol of the The Gran Torino comes in. You can polish the damn thing until you are the Karate Kid, but the Gran Torino was always just a gas-guzzling hunk of metal, not even much good for stock car racing. It was third-rate even in its own class -- sometimes called "muscle car" -- because, it was supposed, you needed muscles not a brain to drive one. It was precisely one of the losers that Detroit turned out year after year. The lifetime of the Ford Torino, 1968-1976, dovetails with Vietnam (we got symbols upon symbols upon symbols in this movie), and with the successful incursion of Japanese cars into the U.S. market. It was the beginning of the end for Kowalski, Kowalski's neighborhood and American industry.
Ford phased out the Torino 1976, five years after the first DIrty Harry came out. It was now 1976. The VIetnam War had just ended, and the Hmong, whom the U.S. had recruited from Laos to fight on the losing side, were brutally persecuted and ended up seeking asylum in the U.S. This didn't go so well, at first, either, with entry restricted mostly to men who had fought with General Vang. The passage of the Refugee Act of 1980 permitted Hmong families to reunite. Eventually more than 270,000 emigrated to the United States.
In 1971, when "Dirty Harry" came out, Americans worried mostly about drugs and crime. We were flush, fighting the war in Vietnam was good for the economy. Besides only "expendibles" went to Vietnam -- blacks and poor whites. We didn't say poor blacks, back then, because black meant poor. I saw "Dirty Harry" in a theatre in Syracuse, New York. The audience was mostly Walt Kowalski types, but my age, and they howled every time Dirty Harry mowed down one of the dirty slime that were making our streets unsafe. The critics called the movie sick, fascist, but it was brilliant, honest, deplorable movie-making.
In 1976 the that last Torino came off the assembly line, Gerald Ford was President.and the sexual revolution was now part of popular culture. Now it wasn't just hippies and "Dirty Harry" having a good time. It was everyone. Though there were some rumblings about those Japanese cars taking over the market, no in Detroit was much worried about the car business -- except, apparently, Walt Kowalski. Only Walt knew that that the Gran Torino would sit in his driveway three decades later all dressed up with nowhere to go. That is, until Thao showed up and a needed a car to go out on a date. Only it wasn't that easy. For Thao to get any, Walt would have to get himself killed and leave the Gran Torino to Thao in his will so his stupid niece didn't get her hands on it and ruin it, the same way America had ruined her.
That's the story of "Gran Torino". Eastwood leaves us feeling good that Kowalski died in peace. You walk out the theatre thinking, "There's a real man. Those Hmong ain't so bad. Maybe there is hope for America."
But then you start thinking. There are more bad guys like that Hmong gang and now there's no Kowalski to fight against them. And poor Thao. He got stuck with the Gran Torino, living in a neighborhood where there's no work and no more Kowalskis to die so he can live in peace. No one expect Thao to become the next Kowalski, do they?
Suddenly, you don't feel so good. And starting thinking about Obama. Poor Obama. He's got to save Thao, the Gran Torino, the automobilie industry, Detroit, and the rest of America. And he's got to do without Kowalski. Maybe Clint Eastwood should have killed off the old guy so fast.
