After reading a review of Gran Torino, a Clint Eastwood movie from 2008, that dismissed it as shallow in its exploration of racism, I’ve decided to explore some of the depth of the movie that was missed.  It was a great story about finding common ground, that takes a bit of twist at the end from the typical Clint Eastwood film.  My family (mixed race and culture) could appreciate the themes more than the average viewer—yet is a beautiful redemption story that all people can enjoy as well.

“Get off my lawn!'”

The story is about an angry old man who is not dealing well with change.  Walter ‘Walt’ Kowalski, a Polish-American retired auto worker, Korean War veteran, and recent widower—his beloved wife passing right before the start of the narrative.

In the opening frame, he fits a stereotype of an elderly homeowner defending their patch of turf from an encroaching world.  It seems every small town has one.  That guy who trims his front lawn with scissors and does not deal well with the trespasses of the younger generation, the snarling “get off my lawn” line from the movie became an instant meme.  

Why?  

It is just too familiar. 

The expression captures the essence of a fading dream.  The American middle class values property ownership.  A lawn, once a complete luxury and exclusively for wealthy estates, had become the mark of post-WW2 affluence.  Walt was the beneficiary of this period of economic growth.  He had lived a quintessential suburban life.  

But now it had become a nightmare.  It is not the same neighborhood anymore. The once tidy little homes, owned by people like him, had fallen into disrepair as a new group of immigrants took over.  The woman who he built a home with was gone.  His sons bought foreign brand vehicles and betrayed the legacy their father had built working at Ford.  The world Walt had known was falling apart and he was bitter.

That patch of land, other than the ghosts of his past, was all Walt really had left.  To set foot on it was to violate his sacred space.  It was a shrine.  And his 1972 Gran Torino in the garage likely represented the pinnacle of his productive career.  Since the Korean War ended in 1953, this would put this car purchase around two decades into civilian life with a young family and point when the future looked bright.  So he was clinging to what was left of his identity and willing to defend it with deadly force.

Demons of the Past

Early on we see Walt, the tough guy, who is playing a part.  His racist language is a part of the facade—a barrier he puts up—because the alternative is to be vulnerable—or a victim.  He is still haunted by his war experience, in the beginning using it as a threat, saying he could kill without remorse:

“Yeah? I blow a hole in your face and then I go in the house… and I sleep like a baby. You can count on that. We used to stack fucks like you five feet high in Korea… use ya for sandbags.”

However, later, when it comes to stopping the neighbor boy from taking revenge, we see the reality under the surface:

“You wanna know what it’s like to kill a man? Well, it’s goddamn awful, that’s what it is. The only thing worse is getting a medal… for killing some poor kid that wanted to just give up, that’s all. Yeah, some scared little gook just like you. I shot him in the face with that rifle you were holding in there a while ago. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about it, and you don’t want that on your soul.“

Just like today, where Russians are called “Orcs” and portrayed as subhuman by propagandists, racial and ethnic slurs were used against various Asian enemies of US policy in the region.  But for Walt, he knew better, he knew that it was not a demon at the receiving end of his rifle.  He had murdered a human child and he felt immense regret.  Note how he says “poor kid” rather than all of the racist terms he used freely throughout his conversations.  It is almost as if, up to this point, he had to reinforce the dehumanizing descriptions to keep ahead of his shame. The truth is Walt didn’t sleep like a baby. No, he was running his sins his entire life and exhausted.

Walt’s racism was part of his pretty much equal-opportunity disdain for other people, including the young parish priest, and his own family.  He was a broken and hurting man, who had driven away his children and was hiding his own terminal illness.  What he needed was some compassion, a safe place where he could finally let his guard down, and it was the persistent effort of a young Hmong neighbor that finally broke through his wall of insults.

Finding Common Ground

The review, that sparked my response, tried to overlay a “white savior” trope on the story and completely missed that it was Walt who was being saved!

*spoiler alert*

Yes, ultimately, Walt sacrificed himself for the sake of the Asian family next door.  But this only after Sue, played by an actual Hmong actress (some critics panned the amateurism, others praised), went above and beyond to disrupt his dismal world.  

She was his savior.

It was by her effort that he would face the demons of his past and could be at peace with his Creator.  It was a redemption story, a story of an old man who had lost his wife, lost his children, lost his religion and even lost his neighborhood, but finds life again by learning to love his enemies.

I can feel this character.  My own life didn’t go as planned.  I had to leave the religious culture where my hopes had been built.  I had a beautiful Asian woman who was patient with me while I was still lost in delusion and did not give up when times were difficult.  Now we have a blended-culture home.  Yes, my Filipino wife and son are different from me in many regards.  However, after seven years of knowing each other and now over a year of being married, our love has only continued to grow.  Some of my happiest moments were with her family in the Philippines and recently while visiting her relatives in Canada.

I am Walt.

My ‘Sue’ did save me.

The real story of Gran Torino is an old man who finds more common ground with those he had thought were strange than he does with his own children.  Once Walt had got past the superficial differences he realized he had more connection to these Hmong people than many who looked like him.  Unlike the war, he was now defending real people and not political ideologies.  He was fighting for the local community, against those within who are destroying it, and not gunning down random boys thrown into a conflict not truly their own.  The storyline is a comparison between perspectives and shows us what really matters in the end.

It is about relationships, not race.

It is about building bridges.

The ongoing dialogue between Walt and his priest demonstrates this.  The priest, who is of European descent based on appearance, is at first scoffed at by the grizzled military veteran for his youthfulness.  The baby-faced “Padre” is bluntly rejected by him: 

“I think you’re an overeducated 27-year-old virgin who likes to hold the hands of superstitious old ladies and promise them everlasting life.“

But, despite this insult, Father Janovich will not go away.  And eventually, with his persistence, he does earn the respect of Walt.  The bond, built over a few beers, culminates with Confession and Walt is finally able to have the guilt that had plagued him since Korea absolved.  Now he is free and at peace, ready for a last act that goes contrary to expectations and confirms the redemptive arc.  

It was faith that saved Walt, both that of the young woman who withheld judgment and didn’t allow his wall of nastiness to stop her and finally of the persistent outreach of the Church.  And it is only because of this concerted effort that we get to see the protagonist do what is right. By the end of the film, Walt has overcome those demons driving his anti-social behavior and also has gained a son worthy of his prized Gran Torino.

Now To Review the Reviewer…

Why did the critic miss the obvious?

The reviewer who inspired me to write my own was projecting their own worldview onto the script. Eastwood is a rare conservative Hollywood producer.  In fact, so conservative he spoke at a Republican National Convention and gave a mock interview with an empty chair, used to represent Obama, and he calls Biden “a grin with a body behind it.”  Perhaps it is this that the review is responding to?  But I think it goes a bit deeper than that.

The Marxist left sees the world as being a zero-sum game, or that for some people to gain others must lose, and thus everything is a competition for power.  But, not only this, but everything is divided up into strictly bounded categories based on their skin color, financial status, or sexual classification.  If someone cooperates across these lines then they are an “Uncle Tom” or traitor.  So the themes of Gran Torino just do not compute.  Asians are collaborators. Walt is an irredeemable privileged white man, he needs to be canceled—not humanized.

So, since we can’t have everyone come out as a winner, the only thing the woke reviewer has left is to hallucinate something color-coded and negative.  Thus they see a movie that tells us to reach across lines of age, culture, and race as just another “white savior” trope.  It is bizarre, such a narrow and distorted perspective, to entirely miss everything and then to insert what is not actually there.  Yes, Walt saves, but in the context of others saving him, and that’s not even the point.  The point of is that color (or age) doesn’t matter, finding our common ground and community does.

Gran Torino isn’t a perfect movie.  It may go a bit overboard with ethnic slurs at times.  But, then again, the comedic relief of the barber and Walt exchanging these insults as terms of endearment is also great commentary.  Why do we let words be “violence” when the same utterances can be laughed at in another context? It is because these words have the power we give them.  What this is suggesting is that we can go further when we reframe the conversation. 

The left wants to believe that our behavior is determined by what others have done to us—Eastwood says we can be free to live above their rules.

Politics may be all about power, in-group and out-group, but love overcomes all.