Cinema 2011 #17: True Grit

True Grit started out as a 1968 Old West serial by the writer Charles Portis, and provides the bones from which Joel and Ethan Coen, the chieftains of American quirk, flesh out their latest slice of murky Americana. It tells the tail of Mattie Ross, a quick-witted and resourceful 14 year-old out to bring her father’s murderer to justice. To do this, she retains the services of a one-eyed, gun-totin’, whiskey swiggin’, crotchety rogue of a US Marshall, Rooster Cogburn, and a tawdry Texan Ranger by the name of LaBoeuf. The role of Cogburn gave John Wayne the only Oscar of his career in 1970, and his work is generally the main reason why the previous version is fondly remembered some 40 years on. This time round, however, the Dude himself, Jeff Bridges, dons the eye patch and the Coens claim their film is a sharper rendition of the source material, Truer Grit if you will.

The performances are uniformly excellent, with Bridges suitably disgruntled as Cogburn, playing him as a grouchy old boozer, but one who can instantly become a brutal and efficient killer. Cogburn is a dogged Marshall, serving justice as he sees fit. Heading towards the end of his career, he is at times completely ridiculous, and yet capable of showing there’s plenty of life in the old dog yet.

His standout scene comes early on, with Cogburn on the stand and under oath, but still his own master, defying objections and answering the cross-examiner’s loaded question of how many men he’s shot while serving under his badge with an irritated, “Shot? Or killed?”. But while the role really offers up some choice lines and bawdy banter, occasionally Bridges’ thick drawl and drunken slurs make his barbs entirely incomprehensible - and that’s coming from someone who teaches inner city and immigrant urchins to speak French, so I know a thing or two about deciphering the indecipherable.

Matt Damon continues to show himself to be the most versatile actor in Hollywood, lending the brazen LaBoeuf shades of humanity and sleaziness. Josh Brolin also makes a serious impact with his sparse screen time, and bit-player Barry Pepper gets to utter the immortal “I call that bold talk for a one-eyed fat man!” with great gusto.

But the outstanding performance goes to Hailee Steinfeld, making her feature film debut. At 14-years herself, this Californian is naturally at ease with Mattie’s steadfast morals and razor sharp wit. Watching her negotiate with a horse trader some 50 years her senior is a comedic highlight, with Steinfeld a commanding and dominating screen presence in every scene. She also conveys an increasingly anxious feeling that she may be treading outside of her depth as the film progresses, and the dangers become very real. Her role has earned her an nomination for Best Supporting Actress at the Academy Awards later this month, and this is a blatant example of ageism; Mattie is not only the lead female of the film, she is the film.

So with such high praise why do I feel a little disappointed?

The problem with a film like True Grit is that it comes from pedigree. Joel and Ethan Coen, over the past 25 years, have consistently proven themselves to be champions of unconventional story telling and oddball eccentricity; the whimsical character names, the peculiar end credit job titles, the outlandish pseudonyms. But behind each of these affectations lies actual talent, the ability to produce films of magisterial originality, meshing genres, making the macabre comical, the dramatic thrilling, the serious lively, and so on. No film better sums up the Coens than their other Western, granted set about a century after True Grit, No Country for Old Men. This turns the tension up to 11 and keeps it firmly there, taking what could have been a Pantomime villain, a pudding-bowl coiffed killer named “Sugar”, and creating a terrifying assassin who never gives up. It is a film that stays with you for days.

True Grit is very good, but it’s not the epic masterpiece filmmaking the critics would have you believe. The first half is an enjoyable character driven piece, the middle a beautifully shot road trip, but the ending is rushed and contrived. I have no doubt that you will enjoy it, but in five years time, I think it’ll mostly make up a nice Coens’ Box Set.

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