Nice car – shame about the movie

Crusty racist gets to know his Chinese neighbours. On paper this is a great idea for a story. Particularly when Gran Torino is Dirty Harry actor Clint Eastwood’s swansong. The eponymous Gran Torino car was produced by Ford in 1972, only a year after Eastwood’s classic Dirty Harry was released, and this is clearly a nostalgic reference to the ‘good old days’ when men were men, Americans bought cars built on US soil and Inspector Harry Callaghan sorted out the punks in his own way.

Now it’s the 21st century and Walt Kowalski has to face the fact that the United States is a very different country from the one he grew up in, and which he fought for in Korea.

Great proposition for an absorbing, thought provoking film with the added spice of a gun-totin’ vigilante hero who does all the things we would like to do. Unfortunately, this good idea has been squandered by Eastwood in a picture which is one-dimensional and sentimental.

Clint Eastwood is the only Hollywood star in the cast. His acting is wooden and unsubtle, with the added annoyance of a dubbed growling noise whenever he is displeased. As if we didn’t get the snarling facial expression. And whilst on the subject of the sound, I thought the many scenes shot in Kowalski’s front garden had an obtrusive background traffic noise.

The rest of the actors turn in performances which would be passable in an amateur drama at the local social centre, but are just not up to standard in a big movie.

There is a lack of narrative pace, and each scene appears like a sketch bolted on to the previous one. The characters are never more than flat cartoon-like representations. Of course the story pivots on the central character’s racist assumptions and simple stereotypes being gradually eroded as he gets to know his neighbours, and in the process learns the subtleties and qualities of Chinese culture. So you could argue that the hollowness of some of the characters is a deliberate device. But not his sons, nor the priest, nor Kowalski’s barber.

Eastwood produced, directed and acted in this film. But that clearly was not enough. He also wrote the feem toon, sang the feem toon – or at least the closing credits soundtrack.

The dialogue is unconvincing throughout. But full marks to the writers for intrusively plugging Pabst beer and having Eastwood mention beef jerky (is there a film of his without such a reference?) For me this was more like turkey.