Honolulu Weekly

Gran Torino / During its production, rumors flew all over the Internet that Clint Eastwood’s latest project was actually the sixth Dirty Harry movie. Heck, even the title sounded like a new entry in the franchise. Of course, the gossip turned out to be false, but it may as well have been true. In fact, Gran Torino is a heck of a lot of fun if one watches it as the final Harry Callahan movie that never was.

Eastwood plays Walt Kowalski, a grizzled, growling, grumpy Korean War vet, retired Detroit autoworker and recent widower. He scowls and spits at his two sons and their families (his granddaughter has the gall at the funeral to wear a midriff revealing top that reveals…a navel piercing!), and he only seems to have affection for his dog Daisy, a Labrador retriever (coupled with Marley, the Lab is Hollywood’s hot breed of dog this cinematic season).

It seems Walt would be content to live out the rest of his life drinking beer on his porch, but a Hmong family moves in next door. At first he is content to mutter racial epithets under his breath whenever he sees them, but when the perpetually bed-head-ed teen-age Thao tries to steal his cherry 1972 Gran Torino as part of a Hmong gang initiation, out come the ex-soldier’s bullets and rifles. “I used to stack fucks like you five feet high in Korea and use you for sandbags,” he threatens.

To repair the loss of face and to show their gratitude for chasing the gang away (how Asian!), the family—with the help of their worldly, droll and witty daughter Sue (the appealing newcomer Ahney Her)—forces Thao on Walt as a manservant to make up for his crime. Of course, the two form a bond, with Thao teaching Walt racial enlightenment and Walt teaching Thao to be a red-blooded American male. But when they think they are safe, the gang returns and Eastwood must arm himself for war one last time.

This rather obvious film of tolerance doesn’t exactly have any groundbreaking things to say about race relations in America, and the liberal left can argue that the screenplay is ignorant, patronizing and downright simplistic. Still, not many movies address the issues of ethnic political correctness so directly. And with Asian Americans no less. Multi-racial, culturally less-touchy Hawaii will probably roll in the aisles at the sight of Eastwood’s character taking every opportunity to slur out terms like “dragon lady,” “slope,” “eggroll,” “fishhead” and, of course, “gook” at his poor neighbors. There is a scene where the old bigot takes Thao to his barber friend to teach him how “guys talk to each other.” The pair then begin a litany of course remarks directed at the Jews, Italians and Polish. At the very least, Walt is an equal opportunity racist and it calls to mind now-classic Frank DeLima sketches.

The Hmong cast won’t win any awards for acting, but they are likable, which is the main thing. We understand why Walt manages to muster up some decency, and eventually, genuine affection for these “gooks,” but they’re mere supporting players and ethnic sounding board/straight people for the crotchety old man to play off of.

The project exists as a star vehicle for Eastwood, and taken at that level, it is satisfyingly entertaining. Seeing his eyes glare and hearing that gravelly growl come from his crooked grimace is a nostalgia trip worth taking. Each time he tells someone to “Get off my lawn,” it sounds like he’s asking a punk whether he feels lucky. As the film enters its second act though, it moves from Dirty Harry territory into that of a western with Walt trying to save the helpless family from the gang violence. Themes of revenge and retribution reminiscent of Unforgiven begin to surface, and of all the actors in the world, when Eastwood tells us what it is like to kill a man, we believe him. “The thing that haunts a man the most is the things he isn’t ordered to do,” he says. And while Gran Torino might not, the veteran actor’s character ultimately haunts us as well.