This film by Clint Eastwood depicts an inner transformation, that of a grumpy retiree, riddled with guilt and prejudice. At first hostile to a young Vietnamese neighbor who had tried to steal his car, he ends up sacrificing his life to protect him.
Gran Torino is the name of a car. What is not nothing in American mythology! A symbol of triumphant capitalism, Walt Kowalski’s Gran Torino is gleaming, kept in the garage away from scratches and prying eyes, sacred. Walt worked at Ford factories, and this vehicle is a sign of his hard-won social mobility. His life is now frozen in memory of his professional career, his married life (the film opens with his wife’s funeral) and his military exploits in Korea.
Sadness, bitterness and prejudice
The man is withdrawn, unable to come out of his sadness, his bitterness, his prejudices and his guilt. One does not return unscathed from the countryside where killing one’s fellow man was a duty! Walt discourages goodwill: a priest seeking to comfort him or Asian neighbors sensitive to his loneliness. The company of his dog is enough for him. Besides, don’t we catch him growling like a mastiff?
In a multicultural America still plagued by the demons of racism, Walt, of Polish origin, portrays a completely believable character. He feels American enough to despise the Hmong Vietnamese in his neighborhood. Their culture is repugnant to him. Yet the Hmongs are not unsympathetic, and their culinary generosity will succeed in overcoming Walt’s prejudices. Confronted by the young Tao, who tries to steal his Gran Torino, Walt begins by refusing his excuses and testing his docility, before letting himself be touched by the good will of this timid teenager. This young Asian is reminiscent of a Korean soldier he once killed.
A “metanoia”
From then on, Walt’s behavior will change. Little by little, he becomes interested in these young Asians, whom he wants to educate in values that he has, it seems, failed to pass on to his offspring (his own son works at Toyota!) . He protects his young neighbor from the crude advances of thugs, introduces Tao to manual labor and, thanks to his connections, gets him a job.
The spiritual challenge of the film lies in this evolution, which takes the form of a “metanoia”. Concrete sign of this transformation: Walt chooses to submit to a process of sacramental penance that he had violently rejected at the beginning. And this “young virgin” of a priest who “knows nothing about death any more than about life” will collect the confession of the man who, at peace with himself, will offer his life to give the innocent a chance against the forces of Evil. What panache in the staging of this Christic sacrifice: Walt collapses, arms outstretched, murmuring a Hail Mary!
So Gran Torino, a cautionary tale? The omnipresent humor, in particular in the rawness of Walt’s words and the comedy of his facial expressions, makes it a great film that brings hope.
A heart of flesh
Clint Eastwood, composer, actor and director, occupies a prominent place in contemporary cinema. First a phlegmatic cowboy from Sergio Leone’s westerns, he then gave life to unforgettable humanist characters:
the photographer of On the road to Madison, the coach of Million Dollar Baby, movies he made himself. In Gran Torino, he embodies a man hardened by life who will reveal a heart of flesh under his shell. This movie will be
his swan song as an actor. He will then give up directing himself, continuing to produce subjects that often refer to tragic realities (Mystic River, Memoirs of our fathers, the Exchange…). Ethical questioning is omnipresent in his work, which is recognized worldwide and crowned with awards.
Michele Debidour is a graduate in theology and cinema, and chaired the ecumenical jury of Cannes. It introduces us to the spiritual message of a great film available on DVD and VOD and offers us through the seventh art a beautiful medium for meditating on the condition of man and transcendence.
This article is taken from the monthly Pray.
Your spiritual film of the weekend with the monthly Prier: Gran Torino, by Clint Eastwood