“Or… I guess,… just possibly,… it was the father in me, despite my weaknesses, flaws, and short-comings, hoping that someday I might live up to being such a hero figure to my kid – perhaps even passing down just a tiny bit of such true grit.”
The Parallel Convergence Zone
Mike and Jeff work together and have discovered a mutual fascination with old television series, B-movies, bizarre personal experiences, brushes with fame and peculiar characters they’ve met along the way. Here, they have undertaken to provide the following tandem media review for your reading pleasure:
True Grit: An Epic Father-Daughter Story
by Jeff WilliamsOnce again, news of the death of the Western has been greatly exaggerated. It lives on gloriously through the eyes of the Coen brothers in their remake of the Charles Portis novel and John Wayne film classic “True Grit.” I wish I could claim some kinship to these master filmmakers and writers for some reason other than the fact that they hail from my home state of Minnesota but alas, I cannot.
I will not attempt an exhaustive review here of the film as a whole, or the individual performances therein. Suffice it to say, if I were to give it stars or thumbs or St. Paul MN Winter Carnival Medallion ratings, I’d give it a LOT of ‘em. Okay, one small comment on performances – Jeff Bridges is wonderfully relaxed in his role of the one-eyed U.S. Marshal “Rooster“ Cogburn – part ’The Dude’ of Lebowski, part Wayne homage: in any sense, a treat to watch. And quite honestly everyone else in True Grit is equally perfect. Everyone. And to look back at their catalogue of films to date, it might appear that casting may be the
guts than grit? Or was she, as I believe, seeking the necessary pillar she must find in a man: as a replacement for that lost in her father in death; as what she would seek in a life-mate in the hard times of the West; or to restore her lost faith in Man in general, stolen from her by the cowardly murderer, Tom Chaney (played well as a malevolent and life-overwhelmed simpleton by Josh Brolin). While all subtexts are present, as I see it, the movie is, in its essence, the father-daughter story. From all outward appearances and behaviors, Cogburn is the antithesis of Mattie’s father, described in her narration as a trusting yet wise businessman and rancher; more Jimmy Stewart or “Father Knows Best” Robert Young. Whereas Cogburn is an inebriate of questionable morals and possibly a cold-blooded killer when it behooves or benefits him. Bridges plays him shamelessly as a grotesque – apparently faithless, clearly overweight and slobbish – you can even see his sagging man-boobs under his filthy shirt when he lurches drunkenly around the backroom hovel he occupies! Yet somehow, Mattie sees her father’s grit in him – and his basic trueness of his character. Simultaneously, Cogburn begins to see – and be drawn to – the true grit in her character, reflecting the small bit of goodness and fidelity he knows he has deep inside himself. But he also knows that, due to his failed marriages and leading a life always on the razor’s edge of death, he’ll never have the opportunity to see his true character carried on in any offspring of his own.
In hopes of not giving away any vital parts of the film as a spoiler, there does come a point in which Cogburn must rescue Mattie from certain death (this can’t be a surprise to anyone – it’s a WESTERN for crying out loud!). It’s here where the masterful touch of the Coens stands out brilliantly – not in one of the intense, perfectly executed action pieces that peppers this film, but in their extraordinary ability at this juncture to capture… gentleness, and the peaceful beauty that can reside even in moments of great stress and
consequence. There’s no exposition or pronouncements by anyone; no dramatic close-ups of Mattie’s desperation or Cogburn’s decision-making; he simply realizes his love for this child and DOES. This fat mess of a man instantly becomes the quintessential American hero; a man of action; everything we’d like to see in ourselves and our fathers (or mothers) – and, we hope, in our children someday.
Unfortunately, in contrast to such inspiration of manliness, this is also the point in the movie where I got, uh…a little choked up. A little verklempt if you will – or no, it must’ve been some popcorn dust in my throat. And eyes. Yeah, that was it. Should’ve got the buttered stuff…a little sip of the $3.50 Cherry Coke and I’d be fine.
Or… I guess,… just possibly,… it was the father in me, despite my weaknesses, flaws, and short-comings, hoping that someday I might live up to being such a hero figure to my kid – perhaps even passing down just a tiny bit of such true grit.
– JW
True Grit: Gloomy Night at the Coen’s
Review by Mike KowalskiJeff Bridges radiates likeability. As Rooster Cogburn in Joel and Ethan Coen’s remake of True Grit he’s an island of wry self amusement luxuriating in his own drunken slovenliness. Nobody has aged better on screen than Jeff Bridges. Every line in Bridges’ face is expressive, every word he utters resounds with real life experience. There’s warmth in Bridges’ acting that comes through even in the closed off loser roles he’s played in Cutter’s Way and The Fabulous Baker Boys and American Heart. Throughout this movie Bridges responds with disarming naturalness and emotional complexity. He’s a tired American warrior who takes pleasure where he finds it and can chuckle at the world. It’s a graceful performance.
Unfortunately this remake has very little else to recommend it. Bridges’ performance seems to come out of nowhere. It’s a bleak landscape out there in this Coen brothers western, and a dark landscape and murderous psychopath do not a good movie make. True Grit is the predictable trajectory of their oeuvre. There’s a flatness to the Coen brother’s style which in their “early funny” movies suggested classic Warner Brothers animation. Raising Arizona ricocheted like the Road Runner and Barton Fink reeled with comic and arcane references Bugs Bunny himself might have written and directed. These movies were propelled forward by a vivid comic heartlessness that was very fun to watch. But in True Grit, as in their previous venture No Country for Old Men, the Coens try for something darker, truer, larger, and come up empty handed because there’s nothing in their portrait of the American heart of darkness except blank anomie — void. The heart of a psychopath might be blank but you have to show more than blank spaces to make an interesting movie. True Grit takes place mostly outdoors and yet it’s a claustrophobic movie. It’s as if the landscape had to be minimized to fit the narrow parameters of the filmmakers’ conception.
Hailee Steinfeld seems unfairly used as Mattie Ross. It’s an over-directed wind-up-doll performance that probably isn’t her fault. Steinfeld delivers her lines in a staccato RAT TAT TAT manner as if the Coens stood over her with a metronome having her repeat I DO NOT LIKE GREEN EGGS AND HAM a hundred times. There are some flashes that do come through — the girl’s first spark of romantic awakening, and a glorious send off Mattie gives a villain toward the end (Steinfeld’s eyes widen with surprise and amazement.) There are other pleasures as well. The ambush scenes have some excitement; Matt Damon is amusing as a prissy Texas Ranger; and Barry Pepper (great name) looks as if he were born riding a horse. But what you’ll take away from this cold dark movie is Jeff Bridges’ warm rich characterization. Bridges shines through the barren landscape.
– MK
Previously at EastPortlandBlog.com – The Parallel Convergence Zone Analyzes Black Swan, Psychosexually, by Jeff Williams and Mike Kowalski
