Gran Torino (2008)

In the introduction to Hitchcock Truffaut, the French critic cites Hitchcock’s rule of counterpoint between dialogue and image. Truffaut writes, “If we observe any [dinner or cocktail party], it is clear that the words exchanged between the guests are superficial formalities and quite meaningless, whereas the essential is elsewhere…The rule of counterpoint between dialogue and image achieves a dramatic effect by purely visual means. Hitchcock is almost unique in being able to film directly, that is without resorting to explanatory dialogue, such intimate emotions.” (I’m puzzled by the phrase almost unique.)

We see this technique in Gran Torino at the very very very beginning. Clint Eastwood, scowling, stands alone next to his wife’s casket at the front of a Catholic church. A man approaches and expresses condolence. Eastwood says, “Thanks for coming, Al.”

Then, the movie falls apart. I groan when Eastwood growls at the idiocies of youth—belly buttons and cell phones at funerals—pointed out to me by the camera as it cuts to another rude person or son or granddaughter fidgeting in a pew, waiting for the funeral to end. As if Eastwood’s anger needs provocation.

My problem with the film concerns this kind of heavy handedness, something I discuss as "in your face directorial decisions" in Rachel Getting Married. The film cares more about racisms than racism. The drum roll every time Eastwood touches a firearm.

So, here’s a thesis against heavy handedness: if something is constantly in your face, eventually you’ll want to push it away. With the alternative, subtlety, you never feel irritated at what’s in your face, because it’s never in your face. One could argue, that you could be irritated by what’s not in your face. But if there are enough subtleties, you’ll find something. So, you can never have enough subtlety. Viewers and readers building connections keeps fictions from falling apart.