Tag Archives: True Grit

Nobody’s fools

As it turns out, two of the films I liked best this past year — Winter’s Bone and True Grit — are both built around tough girls who venture into a violent, deeply menacing wilderness in order to settle their fathers’ affairs. In True Grit, young Mattie Ross heads into the Choctaw territory (what would eventually become Oklahoma) to track down the outlaw who murdered her father. In Winter’s Bone, the wilderness is literal and figurative: Ree Dolly, at 17 the effective head of her household, wanders the Missouri Ozarks in search of her father, but the terrain is really the web of secrets connecting the rustic meth-cookers and redneck gangsters who may or may not know if her father is even alive. Both missions are resolved, but at a heavy price — maybe even heavier than the heroines seem to realize.

Of the two movies, True Grit is the most stylized and crowd-pleasing. Like the underlying Charles Portis novel, it satisfies the requirements of a solid Western while gently pushing the genre off balance with almost lethally dry humor. Some critics have used this new adaptation to swear allegiance to the first, which starred John Wayne as Rooster Cogburn, the one-eyed federal marshal who is Mattie’s guide and chief protector. I always found that 1969 film nothing more than adequate: it was well directed and beautifully shot, but Wayne’s mountain-of-ham performance took the focus off Mattie, whose singular voice and relentless drive are the soul of the story.

The new Coen Brothers version is better in every way. Where John Wayne was content simply to reshuffle a career’s worth of Western cliches in playing Rooster, Jeff Bridges creates an actual character and inhabits him with complete authority. Hailee Steinfeld is everything one could hope for as Mattie Ross. Best of all, the Coens respect their source enough to use the deeply poignant closing line — “Time just gets away from us” — uttered when Hattie arrives, too late, for a reunion with Rooster.

The heroine of Winter’s Bone shares with Mattie a gift for forcing moral choices on people simply by insisting on her mission.  Ree has learned that her meth-cooker father has disappeared after posting bail; since the family house and lands were the collateral, Ree has only a few days to bring in evidence of his whereabouts before she and her siblings are tossed out, with the younger kids destined to be shuffled through a series of foster homes. Though she is repeatedly warned to stop asking questions, Ree won’t quit, enduring verbal and physical abuse and the clear threat of murder. Effectively defenseless, Ree puts people in the position of deciding if they want to be as bad as they think they are.  If the answer is yes, Ree will pay with her life.

Winter’s Bone is a harsh, unblinking film, and a perfect tonic to counteract culture-war propaganda about the superior values of “heartland” America. This heartland is cold indeed, and cliches about self-sufficiency and looking out for oneself translate all too well into a kind of backwoods omerta as scary as anything in The Godfather or The Wire. There is also evidence of a deeper moral chill in the matter-of-fact way Ree swats aside an attempt to throw her off her father’s trail, or the casual knowledge she shows when traversing the meth wasteland. Jennifer Lawrence’s performance conveys Ree’s stony determination, but it also suggests the psychological scars that made such determination necessary. Ree is forced to do things that few adults, let alone young girls, should have to do, and while we can admire Ree’s fortitude, Winter’s Bone never lets us forget that her situation is deeply wrong in ways that go far beyond the immediate question of keeping the family house.

There is a payoff to Ree’s quest, though the price is probably too high, just as Mattie’s search for justice is achieved only at enormous physical and mental cost. As each film ends, we know the heroines can look after themselves, but we can’t help thinking they would be facing better, happier lives if only someone had done the job for them at the times when it mattered most.

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See you next decade

Say adieu to the year with John Fahey:

Here’s how he did it:

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Friday finds

I am seriously pumped to see the Coen Bros. adaptation of True Grit, and this advance review confirms my hunch that the Coens are simpatico with the work of Charles Portis, one of the greats of American literature. But while I’m at it, and since this movie has “Oscar bait” written all over it, let me propose a drinking game for the next Academy Awards broadcast. When True Grit bags a golden guy, have one person take a shot whenever Charles Portis gets mentioned in the thank-you speech, and have another person take a shot whenever somebody gives a shout-out to John Wayne, who starred in the first, barely adequate film version. Judging from the way the Coens handled things a couple of years ago, I expect one guest will be dry as a bone at the end of the night while the other is comatose.

If you think the treatment endured by Bradley Manning is shocking, read Zeitoun by David Eggers and learn that not only can it happen here — it’s been happening for a while.

Frederik Pohl reminisces about Cordwainer Smith here and here.

Crustypunks? New one on me.

So you want to be a freelance writer?

Author and translator Damion Searls talks about Rainer Maria Rilke.

But the entire time I was watching the last two-thirds of the film, I could not get out of my head the fact that the foundation, the groundwork, had been so thoroughly botched that if the film had been re-contextualized as a house, it would’ve been leaning heavily to one side, with the bricks falling to the ground and the roof sliding half-off.”

Some drunks are brawlers and some drunks are bawlers. I guess we know which category goes for John Boehner.

Animation Backgrounds is film geekery at its finest: a blog devoted to the backdrops of animated films. If you think that sounds dull, check out this breakdown of the lush, detail-crammed backdrops from Who Framed Roger Rabbit and yawn no more.

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So it appears Joel and Ethan Coen are getting set to film a remake of True Grit, using the scriptwriter they worked with on No Country for Old Men. I consider this qualified good news.

Charles Portis’ 1968 novel is a terrific read, and all the good I can say about the 1969 film version is that it isn’t nearly as dire as the sequel. John Wayne was the exact wrong choice to play Rooster Cogburn — wrong artistically, wrong chemically, wrong geometrically, mathematically, geologically and just about any other way you can imagine — but those were the days when any movie with a horse in it got saddled with Duke. Yeah it got him his Oscar, and whoop de doo for that. It also spawned a sequel that gave him a chance to one-up Humphrey Bogart by redoing The African Queen in the Wild West, and by the time Duke and Katharine Hepburn got done chewing the scenery I’m surprised there was a single tree left standing in the Oregon Cascades. (There was also a made-for-TV second sequel, imaginatively titled True Grit: A Further Adventure, which nobody remembers. With good reason.)

So while I’m glad to hear the Coens are going to go back to Portis and come up with something much closer to the novel, I’m reserving judgment. The novel gets its zing from the first-person narration of Mattie Ross, a 14-year-old girl out to avenge the murder of her father, and her relentlessly blunt, Bible-quoting manner can be played for too-easy laughs if done as a voice-over. Easy laughs, unfortunately, are the Coens’ stock in trade, along with comic rustics. I’d hate to see True Grit turned into a more violent version of O Brother, Where Art Thou, but that may very well be what we get. On the other hand, I could go along with John Goodman as Rooster Cogburn. Tommy Lee Jones as La Boeuf? John Turturro as Tom Chaney? Maybe this could work after all.

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