Reading The Elements of Style again, I'm pretty ashamed to admit that, although I was enlightened and motivated last time I read it, I'm still a grammar moron. How many times do I have to read over the guidelines before I realize where to put a comma? I'm one of those lazy, willy nilly comma people. I guess it sounds good here, wait, would a period be better? No, comma. Maybe a semicolon, those look cool. I either over-do it, or I don't use enough. I'm extreme like that.
The present participle versus gerund case is still confusing and illuminating as ever. I love how much meaning each word has and what they mean together, but I feel I still make stupid mistakes and misuse everything.
Do you mind me asking a question? vs. Do you mind my asking a question?
Awesome.
Another biggie is being concise. I think because we've been trained to milk every sentence to try to reach the page requirement, we students have become vague and wordy. Sometimes I get stuck trying to convey an idea in a whole paragraph, when it only requires a sentence or two. When a preface for an English SIP has a seven-to-ten page requirement, the natural result is seven pages of long, repetitive paragraphs.
My success story from reading this last time is I have been a stickler about when to use persuade and convince. I usually stop halfway through, "He was trying to convince me" and replace it with persuade. So, I guess I'm making strides toward better grammar, one rule at a time.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Oscar Wilde is in my five
When I first started reading "The Critic as Artist," I wasn't appreciating what Wilde had to say, and instead getting bogged down by the long blocky paragraphs. But, when, I read without that feeling of judgement and irritation, my love for Oscar Wilde was renewed. What a happy ending.
Specifically, I love what he's saying in the beginning about the critic and the creator being one and the critic having the particular difficult job of setting the standard. Sometimes while I'm writing reviews I feel like, in order to give accurate feedback, I need to have a broader knowledge of the type of movie I'm writing about. For instance, I have those friends who know everything about music, or everything about movies and directors and can give such a specific assessment based on the director's other works and the actors' roles through the last ten years that when I try to rebut anything they say, it sound's like a third grader during show-and-tell. Once I had a discussion about the first three Star Wars movies (Phantom Menace, etc.) my friend went on and on about the script and the acting and all I had to say was, "But, the colors were really vibrant. Yeah, I really liked all the colors."
Next, I agree with his ideas about the artist and how the artist shouldn't be too concerned with the meaning of her piece, "The longer I study, Ernest, the more clearly I see that the beauty of the visible arts is, as the beauty of music, impressive primarily, and that it may be marred, and indeed often is so, by any excess of intellectual intention on the part of the artist." When someone writes or paints something with the intention of making it deep and meaningful or abstract, it often comes out as flat and bland. Once I was speaking with an author about a piece of short fiction she wrote, and I said, rather stupidly, "I love the character of the father, the details you tell us about him seem so random, yet paint such a specific and coherent picture of him." And the author then started arguing with me about the word "random" and how everything she wrote in the piece she wrote on purpose. After having spoken with other writers and having written some myself, I think anyone who sits down and writes every detail consciously to paint a picture is compromising the integrity of the piece and questioning the intellect of the reader.
The last point I like about Wilde is about the personality of the critic being part of the critique. Ernest: I would have said that personality would have been a disturbing element.
Gilbert: No; it is an element of revelation. If you wish to understand others you must intensify with your own individualism.
It made me think back to the reviews I've been reading and the kind I like the most is when I get a sense of the author as they're assessing the piece. Oscar Wilde also said that art is a reflection of the viewer and not of life itself, and it's always more interesting to read about people and what they enjoy than a robotic, lifeless review. Well, not always, but if the writer is talented, then yes.
Very lastly, as a senior, this line is saving my soul right now: Each of the professions means a prejudice. The necessity for a career forces everyone to take sides.
Specifically, I love what he's saying in the beginning about the critic and the creator being one and the critic having the particular difficult job of setting the standard. Sometimes while I'm writing reviews I feel like, in order to give accurate feedback, I need to have a broader knowledge of the type of movie I'm writing about. For instance, I have those friends who know everything about music, or everything about movies and directors and can give such a specific assessment based on the director's other works and the actors' roles through the last ten years that when I try to rebut anything they say, it sound's like a third grader during show-and-tell. Once I had a discussion about the first three Star Wars movies (Phantom Menace, etc.) my friend went on and on about the script and the acting and all I had to say was, "But, the colors were really vibrant. Yeah, I really liked all the colors."
Next, I agree with his ideas about the artist and how the artist shouldn't be too concerned with the meaning of her piece, "The longer I study, Ernest, the more clearly I see that the beauty of the visible arts is, as the beauty of music, impressive primarily, and that it may be marred, and indeed often is so, by any excess of intellectual intention on the part of the artist." When someone writes or paints something with the intention of making it deep and meaningful or abstract, it often comes out as flat and bland. Once I was speaking with an author about a piece of short fiction she wrote, and I said, rather stupidly, "I love the character of the father, the details you tell us about him seem so random, yet paint such a specific and coherent picture of him." And the author then started arguing with me about the word "random" and how everything she wrote in the piece she wrote on purpose. After having spoken with other writers and having written some myself, I think anyone who sits down and writes every detail consciously to paint a picture is compromising the integrity of the piece and questioning the intellect of the reader.
The last point I like about Wilde is about the personality of the critic being part of the critique. Ernest: I would have said that personality would have been a disturbing element.
Gilbert: No; it is an element of revelation. If you wish to understand others you must intensify with your own individualism.
It made me think back to the reviews I've been reading and the kind I like the most is when I get a sense of the author as they're assessing the piece. Oscar Wilde also said that art is a reflection of the viewer and not of life itself, and it's always more interesting to read about people and what they enjoy than a robotic, lifeless review. Well, not always, but if the writer is talented, then yes.
Very lastly, as a senior, this line is saving my soul right now: Each of the professions means a prejudice. The necessity for a career forces everyone to take sides.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Review 3
American Ideals exposed in Taxi to the Dark Side
Marni Newell
1/26/09
Lack of concrete directions, convenient oversights, and an extra dosage of self-justification occurs at all levels of the American bureaucracy in “Taxi to the Dark Side.” The documentary by Alex Gibney details modern American torture through the story of one small-town Afghani taxi driver, Dilawar, who was falsely accused of terrorism and tortured at the hands of American soldiers.
As told by his family in the start of the documentary, Dilawar grew up on a farm and planned to bring the “meat and potatoes” back to his family through his work in the city as a taxi driver. Before he could bring back anything, however, Dilawar and his passengers were accused of acts of terrorism dealing with rockets. The details of their crime are, even to the soldiers who abused him, murky at best. This doesn’t stop the soldiers at Bagram Air Base from following orders, which include hours of forced standing, sleep deprivation, demoralization, and beating the prisoners—as long as it is below the waist and using their knees.
By the time Dilawar died, he looked, according to coroners, as if he had been “pulpified.” And, as the documentary continues, it becomes apparent that he was not the only one to receive this treatment nor that those were the only techniques the soldiers used.
The soldiers interviewed in the documentary sit in a dark room with a single light shining on the side of their face, allowing the shadows to symbolize their violent, seemingly inhuman alter ego. But, as their soft-spoken justifications and admissions of guilt continue, they seem more a tool of the wrong-headed Bush Administration than individual murderers. In this way, Gibney succeeds in conveying the drama of the subject matter without compromising the weight of their hellacious deeds or making scapegoats of the soldiers. Through a delicate balance of shocking inhumanity at the soldier and administration level, Gibney shows the blame is not easily placed. One soldier describes Afghani’s as “very frail people” and he was “surprised it took [Dilawar] that long to die,” and later, Gibney shows a hand-written note by Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld asking why the prisoners only have to stand for four hours when he stands at his desk eight-to-ten hours a day.
By the middle of the documentary, it’s hard to tell which is more disgusting, the actual torture, or the self-justification of the soldiers and administration about the torture. In one of the most shocking lines of the film, a soldier who had tortured men at Bagram says, “If I had to do it again, I’d probably say no.” Probably?
One might breathe a sigh of relief with recent decisions by the Obama Administration to close Guantanamo Bay and redefine the treatment guidelines of suspected terrorists in Afghanistan and Iraq, but those who’ve seen Alex Gibney’s “Taxi to the Dark Side” know the ambiguous workings of the government and bureaucracy are rarely conclusive, and sometimes not even in conjunction with the Geneva Convention. Most of the time, politicians seem to be arguing the definition of “torture,” than actually protecting human rights. Through careful editing Gibney allows “Taxi to the Dark Side” to be both illuminating and horrifying but stops before it becomes too accusatory, letting the message resonate without smothering.
Marni Newell
1/26/09
Lack of concrete directions, convenient oversights, and an extra dosage of self-justification occurs at all levels of the American bureaucracy in “Taxi to the Dark Side.” The documentary by Alex Gibney details modern American torture through the story of one small-town Afghani taxi driver, Dilawar, who was falsely accused of terrorism and tortured at the hands of American soldiers.
As told by his family in the start of the documentary, Dilawar grew up on a farm and planned to bring the “meat and potatoes” back to his family through his work in the city as a taxi driver. Before he could bring back anything, however, Dilawar and his passengers were accused of acts of terrorism dealing with rockets. The details of their crime are, even to the soldiers who abused him, murky at best. This doesn’t stop the soldiers at Bagram Air Base from following orders, which include hours of forced standing, sleep deprivation, demoralization, and beating the prisoners—as long as it is below the waist and using their knees.
By the time Dilawar died, he looked, according to coroners, as if he had been “pulpified.” And, as the documentary continues, it becomes apparent that he was not the only one to receive this treatment nor that those were the only techniques the soldiers used.
The soldiers interviewed in the documentary sit in a dark room with a single light shining on the side of their face, allowing the shadows to symbolize their violent, seemingly inhuman alter ego. But, as their soft-spoken justifications and admissions of guilt continue, they seem more a tool of the wrong-headed Bush Administration than individual murderers. In this way, Gibney succeeds in conveying the drama of the subject matter without compromising the weight of their hellacious deeds or making scapegoats of the soldiers. Through a delicate balance of shocking inhumanity at the soldier and administration level, Gibney shows the blame is not easily placed. One soldier describes Afghani’s as “very frail people” and he was “surprised it took [Dilawar] that long to die,” and later, Gibney shows a hand-written note by Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld asking why the prisoners only have to stand for four hours when he stands at his desk eight-to-ten hours a day.
By the middle of the documentary, it’s hard to tell which is more disgusting, the actual torture, or the self-justification of the soldiers and administration about the torture. In one of the most shocking lines of the film, a soldier who had tortured men at Bagram says, “If I had to do it again, I’d probably say no.” Probably?
One might breathe a sigh of relief with recent decisions by the Obama Administration to close Guantanamo Bay and redefine the treatment guidelines of suspected terrorists in Afghanistan and Iraq, but those who’ve seen Alex Gibney’s “Taxi to the Dark Side” know the ambiguous workings of the government and bureaucracy are rarely conclusive, and sometimes not even in conjunction with the Geneva Convention. Most of the time, politicians seem to be arguing the definition of “torture,” than actually protecting human rights. Through careful editing Gibney allows “Taxi to the Dark Side” to be both illuminating and horrifying but stops before it becomes too accusatory, letting the message resonate without smothering.
Monday, January 19, 2009
History Repeats itself in Live from Baghdad
History Repeats itself: Life from Baghdad Review
Marni Newell
19 Jan 2009
It’s hard to imagine, but once CNN was only an amateur emerging station waiting for its big break into televised news credibility. The station found that break in the Gulf War, which provided a perfect news station equivalent to cotillion, all CNN needed was a charming, sensitive producer and his hard-as-nails date. “Live from Baghdad” provides both with Michael Keaton and Helena Bonham Carter in the lead roles, and an added bonus of a quirky tech staff and slew of reporters played by if not high profile, then at least recognizable faces: Bruce McGill, Lili Taylor, and John Carroll Lynch.
“Live from Baghdad” tells the true story of producer Robert Wiener’s (Keaton) journey to Baghdad during the Gulf War to make a name for himself and his news station, CNN. Weiner, accompanied by co-producer Ingrid Formanek (Bonham Carter) and their hodge-podge crew maintain their sense of humor and direction in the mystical and dangerous country of Iraq, where men are watching their every move and stopping them before they tell too much. Weiner and his crew find creative and sometimes tense-but-funny ways to side-step the country’s censorship laws along with charming their way into good humor with its censorship authorities. “Live from Baghdad” succeeds in portraying bravery and ruthless reporting as well as the regret, humor, and frustrating mistakes that go along with it.
Written by Weiner himself, the script has honest emotions sometimes masked by too-perfect lines: when asked if Weiner wants Formanek to accompany him to Iraq because they’re having an affair, Weiner says, “I want her head, not her ass. She keeps me honest.” The charged relationship between Weiner and Formanek can be distracting and heavy-handed, Weiner speaks of his wife and family maybe three times but entire scenes are dedicated to Weiner’s awkward advances to Formanek and her equally-awkward reactions. The portrayal of confusion, danger, and constant fear of death almost excuse these scenes, but they’re too numerous and intense to be believable enough.
Weiner gives every character his or her own personality and conflict, and the actors do well to follow their written personalities within the precious few moments they have to show it. Keaton’s acting is appropriate for Weiner’s charm balanced with just the right amount of inner turmoil, and Bonham Carter really does keep him honest with a gritty portrayal of a woman who’s been everywhere and seen it all. Meanwhile, the budding relationship between sound tech Judy Parker (Taylor) and cameraman Mark Biello (Joshua Leonard) always appears to lighten the mood with humor and a little bit of cutesy courtship.
The cinematography shows but doesn’t tell, the angles and lighting are always both effective and artistic, and only once or twice did it seem fabricated, which probably only showed the available technology at the time. The score wasn’t overbearing and helped set the mood: in a tumult of colors and street noises and shouting, the light music in the background gave the “Ok” to chuckle, or asked for serious consideration.Even almost two decades later, the panic and confusion portrayed in “Live from Baghdad” feels relevant, especially when CNN leads the way in reporting the conflicts in Iraq and exposing the bitter truth of all sides of the situation. It proves the age-old adage that history really does repeat itself
Marni Newell
19 Jan 2009
It’s hard to imagine, but once CNN was only an amateur emerging station waiting for its big break into televised news credibility. The station found that break in the Gulf War, which provided a perfect news station equivalent to cotillion, all CNN needed was a charming, sensitive producer and his hard-as-nails date. “Live from Baghdad” provides both with Michael Keaton and Helena Bonham Carter in the lead roles, and an added bonus of a quirky tech staff and slew of reporters played by if not high profile, then at least recognizable faces: Bruce McGill, Lili Taylor, and John Carroll Lynch.
“Live from Baghdad” tells the true story of producer Robert Wiener’s (Keaton) journey to Baghdad during the Gulf War to make a name for himself and his news station, CNN. Weiner, accompanied by co-producer Ingrid Formanek (Bonham Carter) and their hodge-podge crew maintain their sense of humor and direction in the mystical and dangerous country of Iraq, where men are watching their every move and stopping them before they tell too much. Weiner and his crew find creative and sometimes tense-but-funny ways to side-step the country’s censorship laws along with charming their way into good humor with its censorship authorities. “Live from Baghdad” succeeds in portraying bravery and ruthless reporting as well as the regret, humor, and frustrating mistakes that go along with it.
Written by Weiner himself, the script has honest emotions sometimes masked by too-perfect lines: when asked if Weiner wants Formanek to accompany him to Iraq because they’re having an affair, Weiner says, “I want her head, not her ass. She keeps me honest.” The charged relationship between Weiner and Formanek can be distracting and heavy-handed, Weiner speaks of his wife and family maybe three times but entire scenes are dedicated to Weiner’s awkward advances to Formanek and her equally-awkward reactions. The portrayal of confusion, danger, and constant fear of death almost excuse these scenes, but they’re too numerous and intense to be believable enough.
Weiner gives every character his or her own personality and conflict, and the actors do well to follow their written personalities within the precious few moments they have to show it. Keaton’s acting is appropriate for Weiner’s charm balanced with just the right amount of inner turmoil, and Bonham Carter really does keep him honest with a gritty portrayal of a woman who’s been everywhere and seen it all. Meanwhile, the budding relationship between sound tech Judy Parker (Taylor) and cameraman Mark Biello (Joshua Leonard) always appears to lighten the mood with humor and a little bit of cutesy courtship.
The cinematography shows but doesn’t tell, the angles and lighting are always both effective and artistic, and only once or twice did it seem fabricated, which probably only showed the available technology at the time. The score wasn’t overbearing and helped set the mood: in a tumult of colors and street noises and shouting, the light music in the background gave the “Ok” to chuckle, or asked for serious consideration.Even almost two decades later, the panic and confusion portrayed in “Live from Baghdad” feels relevant, especially when CNN leads the way in reporting the conflicts in Iraq and exposing the bitter truth of all sides of the situation. It proves the age-old adage that history really does repeat itself
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Thesis.
The thesis in my Gran Torino review is the following at the end of paragraph two:
"Although Eastwood is convincing in his rendition of nearly every middle class white racist grandpa in the country, the symbolism is thinly veiled, the cinematography is almost cartoonish at times, and the acting always falls short of realistic."
How I would revise my entire piece is I would take out all of the personal pronouns that I used quite often. I would also clarify some of the jokes I tried to pull off that actually just turned out vague, and I would ease up on Grandpa Kowalski, I talked only briefly about the merits of this film, I think. Maybe just a little more of the positive so the readers don't think I was just having a good time trashing the film (you got me).
"Although Eastwood is convincing in his rendition of nearly every middle class white racist grandpa in the country, the symbolism is thinly veiled, the cinematography is almost cartoonish at times, and the acting always falls short of realistic."
How I would revise my entire piece is I would take out all of the personal pronouns that I used quite often. I would also clarify some of the jokes I tried to pull off that actually just turned out vague, and I would ease up on Grandpa Kowalski, I talked only briefly about the merits of this film, I think. Maybe just a little more of the positive so the readers don't think I was just having a good time trashing the film (you got me).
Monday, January 12, 2009
Marni's Critical Defense Article
Here's the link to a review of Happy-Go-Lucky which is playing at the Little Theater on Oakland: http://movies.nytimes.com/2008/10/10/movies/10happ.html
Manhola Dargis gives Mike Leigh’s “Happy-Go-Lucky” a positive review, and keeps the reader convinced by including the specific reasons why it isn’t perfect and how it’s not always consistent. As Dargis goes through the particulars of “Happy-Go-Lucky,” he gives a positive and a negative aspect to the film saying, “much depends on whether you wear rose-colored specs.” The review is so back-and-forth about the movie, that I’m almost unsure that Dargis liked it, but by the last two paragraphs, it’s settled. Dargis is almost warning the audience that there are some optimistic and bubbly characters and situations that could get annoying, but in the end, everybody is struggling with the reality of happiness and not just floating along untouched.
The first “but” that made me think Dargis liked the film came at the end of the second paragraph with an actual “but”: “Nobody mounts a soapbox and whistles, “The Internationale” in Happy-Go-Lucky, but the film is so tuned to the pulse of communal life, to the rhythms of how people work, play and struggle together, it captures the larger picture along with the smaller.” Dargis mainly seems thrown by Leigh, who seems to only have written darker and more moody films in the past, but Happy-Go-Lucky has it’s moments and the characters are tested enough and fail enough that Dargis is reassured.
Manhola Dargis gives Mike Leigh’s “Happy-Go-Lucky” a positive review, and keeps the reader convinced by including the specific reasons why it isn’t perfect and how it’s not always consistent. As Dargis goes through the particulars of “Happy-Go-Lucky,” he gives a positive and a negative aspect to the film saying, “much depends on whether you wear rose-colored specs.” The review is so back-and-forth about the movie, that I’m almost unsure that Dargis liked it, but by the last two paragraphs, it’s settled. Dargis is almost warning the audience that there are some optimistic and bubbly characters and situations that could get annoying, but in the end, everybody is struggling with the reality of happiness and not just floating along untouched.
The first “but” that made me think Dargis liked the film came at the end of the second paragraph with an actual “but”: “Nobody mounts a soapbox and whistles, “The Internationale” in Happy-Go-Lucky, but the film is so tuned to the pulse of communal life, to the rhythms of how people work, play and struggle together, it captures the larger picture along with the smaller.” Dargis mainly seems thrown by Leigh, who seems to only have written darker and more moody films in the past, but Happy-Go-Lucky has it’s moments and the characters are tested enough and fail enough that Dargis is reassured.
Gran Torino: A closer look at angry, racist grandpas
By Marni Newell
In one of the most believable scenes in Clint Eastwood’s newest film, “Gran Torino”, Walt Kowalski (Eastwood) sits on his porch accompanied by his dog, Daisey, and a cooler full of Pabst Blue Ribbon and grumbles about his neighbors. Like most grandfathers who served in the military during a conflict and now spend their time at the bar or the VFW, Kowalski balances his time between his passionate racism and sense of elitism while maintaining his yard and 1972 Gran Torino. In this sense, Eastwood pulls on the heartstrings (and brings out the guilt) of grandchildren everywhere, which gives enjoying this film a deeper conflict: we all want Grandpa’s movie to pull through.
Statistically, “Gran Torino” is the leading film in box offices everywhere, allowing me more leeway emotionally (that is, with less guilt) in giving an honest review. Although Eastwood is convincing in his rendition of nearly every middle class white racist grandpa in the country, the symbolism is thinly veiled, the cinematography is almost cartoonish at times, and the acting always falls short of realistic.
This may have to do with the authentic Hmong actors, all of which, excepting Duoa Muoa (Fong, aka “Spider”) are newbies to the craft. It doesn’t explain, however, nearly every other actor in the film, leading me to blame the script for being too simple for the dramatic shots and lofty message. After all, Ahney Her (Sue Lor) is believable as the spunky older sister who will never take flak, even when her safety is compromised, but her insults are grade school-esque: she retaliates to a come-on from a gang member with, “Mentally, I’m too old for you” and ends multiple snarky comments with the signifier, “stupid.”
Not to mention the overt racism of Kowalski’s character who teeters between appreciating the Hmong culture and showing off his extensive knowledge of anti-Asian slurs, leaving the audience in a perpetual hesitant chuckle. For Kowalski, tough love is the only love, but even the most racist of love is never enough to be convincing.
As far as the films deeper meaning goes, I was either being distracted by the young persistent priest’s (Christopher Carley) ability to position himself in half-shadows and maintain an uncomfortably large ego even with Grandpa Kowalski’s constant atheism, or I was being bludgeoned in the head by Biblical symbolism and parallels to Jesus. On second, thought, they’re the same thing.
The one commonality between all of the characters in Gran Torino was their keen ability to portray typical middle class Americans, only more exaggerated. Kowalski’s oldest son Mitch (Brian Haley) and his wife Karen (Geraldine Hughs) are too ignorant of how to act respectfully and logically around the grumbling Walt, and never seem to notice when his growls get louder until they’re being kicked out of his house, claiming their kids are more sensible than they are for refusing to visit Grandpa Walt on his birthday in the first place (another forcefully spoon-fed theme).
In the end, thirty-something racial slurs and countless hours of Eastwood’s disapproving growl later, the movie ends. But it doesn’t end without drama and tears, another kick-in-the-face symbolic moment and a shot of the Gran Torino accompanied by Eastwood’s gravelly rendition of the song, “Gran Torino.” Other than a sense of guilt for buying Grandpa a jitterbug phone instead of a new lawn mower for his birthday, Gran Torino leaves you feeling cheated out of a more involved and complex story and a convincing cast.
In one of the most believable scenes in Clint Eastwood’s newest film, “Gran Torino”, Walt Kowalski (Eastwood) sits on his porch accompanied by his dog, Daisey, and a cooler full of Pabst Blue Ribbon and grumbles about his neighbors. Like most grandfathers who served in the military during a conflict and now spend their time at the bar or the VFW, Kowalski balances his time between his passionate racism and sense of elitism while maintaining his yard and 1972 Gran Torino. In this sense, Eastwood pulls on the heartstrings (and brings out the guilt) of grandchildren everywhere, which gives enjoying this film a deeper conflict: we all want Grandpa’s movie to pull through.
Statistically, “Gran Torino” is the leading film in box offices everywhere, allowing me more leeway emotionally (that is, with less guilt) in giving an honest review. Although Eastwood is convincing in his rendition of nearly every middle class white racist grandpa in the country, the symbolism is thinly veiled, the cinematography is almost cartoonish at times, and the acting always falls short of realistic.
This may have to do with the authentic Hmong actors, all of which, excepting Duoa Muoa (Fong, aka “Spider”) are newbies to the craft. It doesn’t explain, however, nearly every other actor in the film, leading me to blame the script for being too simple for the dramatic shots and lofty message. After all, Ahney Her (Sue Lor) is believable as the spunky older sister who will never take flak, even when her safety is compromised, but her insults are grade school-esque: she retaliates to a come-on from a gang member with, “Mentally, I’m too old for you” and ends multiple snarky comments with the signifier, “stupid.”
Not to mention the overt racism of Kowalski’s character who teeters between appreciating the Hmong culture and showing off his extensive knowledge of anti-Asian slurs, leaving the audience in a perpetual hesitant chuckle. For Kowalski, tough love is the only love, but even the most racist of love is never enough to be convincing.
As far as the films deeper meaning goes, I was either being distracted by the young persistent priest’s (Christopher Carley) ability to position himself in half-shadows and maintain an uncomfortably large ego even with Grandpa Kowalski’s constant atheism, or I was being bludgeoned in the head by Biblical symbolism and parallels to Jesus. On second, thought, they’re the same thing.
The one commonality between all of the characters in Gran Torino was their keen ability to portray typical middle class Americans, only more exaggerated. Kowalski’s oldest son Mitch (Brian Haley) and his wife Karen (Geraldine Hughs) are too ignorant of how to act respectfully and logically around the grumbling Walt, and never seem to notice when his growls get louder until they’re being kicked out of his house, claiming their kids are more sensible than they are for refusing to visit Grandpa Walt on his birthday in the first place (another forcefully spoon-fed theme).
In the end, thirty-something racial slurs and countless hours of Eastwood’s disapproving growl later, the movie ends. But it doesn’t end without drama and tears, another kick-in-the-face symbolic moment and a shot of the Gran Torino accompanied by Eastwood’s gravelly rendition of the song, “Gran Torino.” Other than a sense of guilt for buying Grandpa a jitterbug phone instead of a new lawn mower for his birthday, Gran Torino leaves you feeling cheated out of a more involved and complex story and a convincing cast.
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