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Ahney Her as Sue

This is all very literal in Gran Torino. Walt's priest persistently pursues him throughout the film, gradually establishing a trust that allows him to talk to Walt about things like life, death, morality, confession. It's unclear how much the priest actually changes Walt's stubborn mind about anything (Walt seems pretty ambivalent about church and God), but it is nice to see a clergy figure who plays a loving, vital role in reaching out to a troubled character. In the end, the two of them learn from each other, as they tread the unfair and frequently painful path of life together, for a time.

The film—foul-mouthed and offensive though it may be—has deeply religious overtones. It opens and closes in a church, features themes of sacrifice, love, and redemption, and wrestles with complicated moral choices in a strikingly direct way. It is certainly a thematic cousin of Mystic River and Million Dollar Baby, going into similarly gray areas (quite literally, with Eastwood collaborator Tom Stern's characteristically shadowy cinematography) without being extremely didactic or heavy-handed. In the end, though, Gran Torino comes down in a decidedly sunnier, more certain place than any of Eastwood's other recent films.

Thao is threatened by Hmong gang members

This is not to say that Gran Torino is a happy film. It is resolutely not. But it celebrates life and honor in the same beautiful way that Letters from Iwo Jima and Flags of Our Fathers did a few years ago. And like those films, Gran Torino is also a nostalgic elegy. It laments the passing of time and coming of mortality with the tenderness of a Japanese master like Ozu. Eastwood, like the character he portrays, is reflecting on his life, taking stock of his values and priorities as the sun begins to set. There are pains that cannot be resolved ("I'm soiled," he tells Thao), but there is still value in living—still things he can teach and be taught. But, like the industry that was his life's work and legacy (in the symbol of the Gran Torino), Walt also knows that his time is nearly up.

Gran Torino is not a perfect film, and sometimes feels a tad overwritten and wordy (freshman screenwriter Nick Schenk's extreme, racially-charged language occasionally borders on parody), but it is a film that fits our current cultural milieu like a glove. I'd hesitate to say that the film is a metaphor for the death of the American auto industry, but it's certainly a metaphor for a changed America. We are not a homogenous, white-picket-fence nation anymore. Old industries are dying, new ones rising up, neighborhoods shifting and communities re-aligning. Some things are the same, though: there is still hate and violence, just as there is love, determination, and hard work.

Gran Torino is about pressing on, living life with resolve, and making sure there is some continuity. As Walt discovers, we can lament change all we want, but ultimately what's gone is gone. What's important is what we leave behind—our successes, failures, and '72 Detroit-made muscle cars.

Talk About It

1. What do you think of the ending of the film? What are the lasting images from the film's final five minutes and what are their significances to you?
   
   
2. Walt and his priest have an interesting relationship. Do you think the priest made any impact in Walt's life? How so?
   
   
3. What does community look like in the film? Contrast how Walt interacts with the family next door as opposed to his own family.
   
   

The Family Corner

Gran Torino is rated R for language. The language is extreme, and full of pretty much every racial and derogatory name you can imagine for a variety of ethnic groups. There are also some scenes of violence, an implied rape, and some disturbing scenes of coughing up blood.

Photos © Copyright Warner Brothers

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