Blogorium Review: True Grit

There are so many elements that come into play when considering Joel and Ethan Coen's True Grit, some of which I'm simply not certain how to address: the Cap'n has not, for instance, read Charles Portis' novel, on which the Coens claim they based their version exclusively. I have seen Henry Hathaway's 1969 adaptation of the same novel, which is the point of entry for most people who are familiar with the title and is the basis of comparison for most. It would be the basis of comparison on which I would draw, had I not written a piece about the debate surrounding "remake" and "re-adaptation" within the critical community.

As it is, I don't feel that it would be fair to simply explain the differences between Hathaway's version and the Coens' version without having the Portis novel as a point of reference in adapting. That being said, both cinematic versions of True Grit have so many overlapping similarities that I find it hard to mention parts of one without recalling its counterpart immediately. There are points of deviation, specifically dealing with the fates of certain characters, the end of the film, and most importantly, the tone, which I will address later in the review. What I can say is that I very much enjoyed 2010's True Grit, almost certainly more than 1969's. It's a very well made film, an entertaining story that mostly balances the humor with graphic violence and provides fine performances from Jeff Bridges, Matt Damon, Josh Brolin, Barry Pepper, and (most importantly) Hailee Steinfeld as Mattie Ross.

Very briefly, the film is about Mattie Ross (Steinfeld), the daughter of Frank Ross, who was murdered by Tom Chaney (Brolin) in a drunken fit of rage. When Chaney fled, Mattie traveled to Fort Smith, Arkansas, to seek justice for his murder. Instead, she finds indifference and hires U.S. Marshall Reuben "Rooster" Cogburn (Bridges) to track Chaney into Chocktaw territory. Accompanied by Texas Ranger LeBeouf (Damon), who is tracking Chaney in the hopes of claiming a reward for his capture, they set off to find Ned Pepper (Pepper) and his gang, where Tom is hiding out.

It seems that for every idiosyncratic film the Coen brothers make, they manage to tap into the cultural zeitgeist at least as often, typically without moving far from their own interests. Despite some critics suggestions otherwise - or their inability to remember - Raising Arizona, Fargo, O Brother Where Art Thou, and No Country for Old Men all seeped into the "broader" audiences in varying degrees. True Grit certainly seems to be the next addition to the list, capturing the masses in a way that Burn After Reading or A Serious Man - as fascinating as both films are - did not in the mean time. I hesitate to attribute this to the presence of Steven Spielberg - whose "Executive Producer" credit caught me off-guard when it appeared at the end - because True Grit does not stray far from their fascination in playing around in someone else's genre. If No Country for Old Men is a neo-noir Western, then True Grit is their direct attempt at a Western, packed with their love of antiquated mores, attitudes, and ironic detachment.

That Joel and Ethan Coen side-step the "remake" question by claiming "re-adaptation" allows them to detach themselves further from direct comparisons. It's much easier to remake The Ladykillers - a film more people have heard of than seen - than to tread into the fandom of John Wayne, who remains a cultural icon for the generation most likely to recognize True Grit. That being said, either the Portis novel isn't terribly different from both adaptations, or Hathaway's True Grit casts such a long shadow that it's nearly impossible to see both without making mental comparisons.

The immediate change I noticed - and one of the only ones I want to mention - was that the goofy, slightly slapstick nature of the Hathaway version of True Grit is missing here. The jovial sense of camaraderie between Cogburn, LeBeouf, and Ross never develops in the Bridges / Damon / Steinfeld dynamic, partially because the precocious naivete of Mattie Ross is downplayed in favor of a determined young woman desperate to assert herself, one who refuses to admit she's in well over her head. It also helps that Steinfeld is actually 14 in True Grit, whereas Kim Darby was 22 when she played Mattie Ross, a tidbit that when coupled with her strange gender-neutral appearance kept Darby's Ross from connecting with audiences.

Jeff Bridges is less cartoonish as "Rooster" Cogburn, thanks to two major shifts: instead of being introduced bringing in prisoners as a heroic gesture (as Wayne is), Cogburn and Mattie's first conversation takes place while he's in the outhouse, in a demeaning position of strength. By never demonstrating it, Cogburn's prowess at catching criminals becomes another tall tale told by others, like the braggart LeBeouf's position on Texas Rangers. The drunken escapades of Cogburn, played for chuckles in Hathway's True Grit, are pathetic rather than clownish in the Coens' adaptation, generating uncomfortable laughter.

Speaking of uncomfortable laughter, it raises one of the serious points with which I struggle with Joel and Ethan Coen's True Grit: there are moments of what can only be described as flagrant racism that are designed and executed for laughs, and at least with the audience I saw True Grit with, they got them. (It's fair to point out that they audience was fairly diverse, a testament to the Coens' ability to draw people of every background into their films).

Both jokes that drew the biggest laughs involved Native Americans as the butt of the joke: during the "hanging" scene, two criminals finish their speeches about why they're being hung and whether they deserved it or not, but when the "Injun" begins to speak, they immediately place the bag over his head and hang drop the platform. Big laughs. Later, Cogburn and Ross ride up on a trading post where two Native American children are irritating a horse. Cogburn lets the horse got, then kicks the boy off of a high porch, then looks at the girl and kicks her off two. We cut to their faces, watching Mattie while Rooster is inside, and as he comes out, he kicks the boy off of the porch again. Huge laughs. You could argue that he's abusing them because of their abuse of the horse, but considering what Cogburn does to a horse later, and the fact that no white character is the subject of the same kind of casual cruelty, that there's a deliberate choice here.

I don't quite know what to make of it yet: is it simply the Coen brothers' ironic detachment commenting to the racist attitude of whites towards natives in the South? Does that extend to the way that the "Little Blackie" scene changes when instead of telling the horse dealer that's what Mattie is naming her pony, she instead tells a stable boy who "isn't allowed" to say her name because of the color of his skin? I'm genuinely uncertain of how audiences are meant to process these moments, but the general reaction in the theatre tonight was to laugh.

Laughter didn't necessarily continue into the film's periodically graphic violence, far beyond what I expected from a PG-13 rating. The scene in the Old Cabin alone would earn most movies an R - in the span of 45 seconds, a character's fingers are cut off, he's stabbed, and then the man who stabbed him is shot in the cheek, spraying blood against the wall and on Cogburn's face. While we don't see it, the description of what happens to LeBeouf's tongue after being dragged around by Pepper's gang is also pretty harsh, and that's not mentioning the deteriorated corpses that pop up sporadically during the film. Coupled with a less goofy tone, it's surprising that True Grit snuck away with a PG-13 - unless one considers that the Hathaway version originally had a "M" rating but is now considered a G film with little altered content.

I don't mean for the comedy and the rating to dissuade you from seeing True Grit: it's a fine film that is distinctly a Coen brothers production, from the casting of the smaller characters to Roger Deakins' fantastic cinematography to Carter Burwell's score (which, while repetitive, is reminiscent of Miller's Crossing). It may not (yet) demonstrate the same dense layering of themes as 2009's A Serious Man, but that by no means situates True Grit as a "lesser" or "watered down" Coen film, as some have suggested. It's different, hard to classify, and inextricably linked to a predecessor Joel and Ethan Coen desperately wish were not the case. Also, if you're deciding between the two Jeff Bridges films this holiday season - this is a no brainer: run, don't walk, to True Grit.