Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Now I've Seen Everything Dept.: Clint Eastwood Part 2

Second Acts

Bird, Clint Eastwood's heart-felt biographic film of jazz-legend Charley Parker begins with the erstwhile Scott Fitzgerald quote: "There are no second acts in American lives." The life and career of Clint Eastwood belies that dubious observation—everyone gets a second act if they live long enough, something even Fitzgerald might have acknowledged if he had. And though one may quibble that Eastwood has stayed as a constant in "the entertainment industry," his gradual emergence from actor to star to director represents a shift from interpreter to genuine artist. Once Eastwood became "an actor of a certain...maturity" (always said in his interviews with a rueful smile), the stunt-work of his action-star years were no longer possible and he would turn his attention to what was going on behind the camera. At the same time, the star of so many gritty shoot-'em-up's displayed a depth of thinking about the films of his past and their underlying themes that belied his tough-talking portrayals over the years. The Second Act of Eastwood's career would be spent re-appraising the first.

"Vanessa in the Garden" ("Amazing Stories", (1986) An episode of Steven Spielberg's anthology series featuring performances by Harvey Keitel, Sondra Locke and Beau Bridges. The story (with a teleplay by Spielberg) features Keitel as a painter, deep in grief over the loss of his wife (Locke). Fearing that he'll lose her image forever in his mind, he paints an oil of her sitting in their garden...and discovers her sitting there, as a ghost, ephemeral and untouchable. He makes more and more paintings of Vanessa, everywhere in his house, making her appear everywhere he is. Soon, he has so many paintings that his agent (Bridges) suggests a gallery show, which the painter does not attend—he has painted a last painting of himself and Vanessa together, and has disappeared. Sweet, tender valentine of a piece (with a score by Georges Delerue) that moves at a somewhat glacial pace—as so many of the "Amazing Stories" episodes did—trying to stretch an idea fragment over an entire half-hour.

Heartbreak Ridge (1986) It's a bit hard to determine exactly what Eastwood was going for with this one. It might have been an attempt to make his version of a rollicking service comedy of the type perfected by John Ford. There are the slap-stick fist-fights, sure, but I doubt Ford would have envisioned Mario Van Peebles' hip-hop Marine (with...electric guitar?). It might be a somewhat straighter version of Stripeswith its goof-ball Marines (this got the cooperation of the Marine Corps?*) and Eastwood is a "rebel" in the system. On the civilian front, Eastwood's Sgt. Tom Highway (get it?) is trying to win back his wife (Marsha Mason) by reading women's magazines to speak the lingo of the "sensitive male." It ends up with a fight during the invasion of Grenada, where Highway's methods save the day and the young recruits stand prepared to defend our country (God help us!) I hope the Corps got its recruiting numbers up during its release, but one wonders how many wash-outs it brought in. All around, a bad exercise that few should be proud of.

Bird (1988) Eastwood's love of jazz is evident in every frame and decibel of Bird, his film about the short, turbulent career of Charley Parker. Eastwood and writer Joel Oliansky worked with Parker's common-law wife Chan fleshing out the screenplay and gaining access to a treasure trove of Parker recordings. Special attention was paid to the music: Parker's solos were isolated in recordings and new stereo arrangements were added to beef up the sound. Red Rodney (played by Michael Zelniker in the film) was still alive to play on the tracks and serves as the Parker student that Eastwood sees himself as. Forest Whitaker, who was only playing supporting roles at the time, infuses Parker with a roller-coaster energy that carries the film (garnering a Best Actor award at Cannes) and Diane Venora is brilliant as Parker's long-suffering wife. Jazz experts complain that not enough attention is paid to Parker's recording sessions—the only record of his playing, besides the live recordings—but that's a little "inside" and, frankly, recording sessions are boring. The drama is in Parker's life and, although revered for his music, didn't get any respect as a performer while he was alive, especially in club circles. That's the tragedy, beyond the story of prejudice that Parker endured. Eastwood won the Golden Globe for "Best Director" for Bird.

White Hunter Black Heart (1990) Bird inspired Eastwood to set his sights higher, but it's poor box-office warned him that people wanted to see Eastwood the star and not the director. White Hunter, Black Heart allowed him to have it both ways—an interesting script by industry veterans and a part for him where he didn't have to be "Clint Eastwood." How much of the story is true is hard to say. But Peter Viertel's script, based on his roman à clef (and adapted with directors James Bridges and Burt Kennedy) of a director—not unlike John Huston—who goes to Africa to make a movie— not unlike The African Queen—who delays production and looking through his camera view-finder to accomplish his own personal goal of shooting and killing an elephant—the reason he wanted to make his picture in Africa in the first place. Huston was dead by this point, and his longevity might have been why the script hadn't been filmed yet. Eastwood made sure he had daughter Anjelica Huston's blessings before he took it on.

Eastwood himself plays "
John Wilson" with a fair approximation of Huston's smokey, honey-magnolia voice, and the loping way Huston would walk and talk while looking back at you. Nice effort, but you never completely lose the impression that it's Eastwood doing a Huston imitation (seventeen years before Daniel Day-Lewis got an Oscar for doing the same shtick in There Will Be Blood). It's a pretty damning film as the preoccupied Wilson goes through the motions of movie-prep, while his writer questions his motives. Eastwood makes good use of Jeff Fahey as the Viertel character and impersonations of Bogart, Bacall and Katherine Hepburn. It's not the most engaging film, but as a commentary on "man's man machismo," it's notable. And it's fun to watch the approximations to the film-world counter-parts.

Life Magazine pictre of Huston on location in Africa.

The Rookie (1990) Easily Eastwood's worst movie, but even then, it's interesting. Eastwood's police films set the mark for action back in the day, and was now seeing his genre usurped by the bloody "Lethal Weapon" movies of Richard Donner. So, The Rookie takes that formula—old cop, new cop—and does a graduation ceremony on it. Eastwood, who'd done so many of his own stunts—including the strenuous climbing of The Eiger Sanction—was getting a bit long in the tooth for the elaborate foot-work called for. So Eastwood's cranky Lt. Nick Pulovski spends substantial time tied up and kidnapped by the Latino smuggling operation led by Raul Julia and Sonia Bragashe's the best thing in it—and fresh cop Charlie Sheen has to do the heavy lifting, fighting and bleeding. Sheen had been aping the Eastwood persona since his debut in Ferris Bueller's Day Off and has the same skill at dead-pan comedy. There's no clash of styles at all. Eastwood probably made it just for the last scene, where his character gets to put his feet up on his desk and relax while the "new kid" hits the streets. Eastwood, the actor, was looking at retirement.
"You Take it From Here, Kid" Eastwood hands off the stunt-work and takes the desk-job.

Unforgiven (1992) I remember sitting in the theater watching Unforgiven, and thinking early on that it was a special movie. By the time of the "We all got it comin', kid" scene, it was apparent that it a classic, not only a classic western, but a classic movie.

Reformed gun-fighter
William Munny (Eastwood) isn't making a go of it. His wife, who'd inspired him to stop drinking and start farming, died and left him with two kids he can't support. When he hears of a $1000 reward put up by a group of prostitutes for the disfiguring of one of their own in the town of Big Whiskey, Wyoming, he resists returning to his murderous ways, but makes the trip with the so-called Schofield Kid (Jaimz Woolvett) and an outlaw-partner from the old days, Ned Logan (Morgan Freeman). The journey will cost them all, and Munny will face down Big Whiskey's sadistic sheriff "Little Bill" Daggett (Gene Hackman). When he does, he will fight terror with terror, and disappear into the night.

Eastwood had been holding onto
David Webb People's script for years, waiting for a time when he could make it right. When he released it in 1992, this feminist, violent anti-western (at a time when westerns were "dead" at the box-office) made audiences and critics sit up and take notice. Here is Eastwood calling into question the very myth of the West, its male-dominated romanticism, the Manifest Destiny of carving out a new civilization, but only if you were a man, and not a civilized one, at that. The taming of the west is only done at the point of the lash, used without conscience or hesitation. And it is also Eastwood calling a raspy "bull-shit" on his own intimidating screen persona, pushing it within a blade's edge of ridiculousness, with the last of those room-clearing shoot-outs, but this one is a messy affair of using The Big Threat and a man's inclinations to cowardice.
Unforgiven garnered Eastwood his first Oscars for Best Director and Best Picture.** Hard to argue with that, and hard to ignore. He also composed the soft elegaic theme that bookends the film. Eastwood has said that it would be his last western, and he has made good on that statement. Nothing more to say, really. Unforgiven is dedicated to his directors Sergio Leone and Don Siegel.

A Perfect World (1993) A minor film written by
John Lee Hancock, but given a higher profile as it was Eastwood's first movie since Unforgiven, and it featured box office star Kevin Costner. He plays one of two escaped felons pursued by Texas Rangers, represented by Eastwood and a criminologist played by Laura Dern. Early in the proceedings, Costner's "Butch" Haynes grabs an 8 year old boy (T.J. Lowther) as a hostage and the two form a bond as they're two kids robbed of childhoods: the boy, Phillip Perry is being raised by his strict Jehovah's Witness mother, and Haynes by his life in prison. For the boy, it's his first taste of a kind of freedom, which Haynes is only too happy to provide, but he also begins to care for the child's welfare. There is some Costner grand-standing, but the scenes between him and the boy are sensitively allowed to grow into something approximating a family, as the boy learns to be a kid and the criminal to be responsible. Meanwhile, Eastwood's Ranger has to deal with gung-ho searchers and the press, making everybody look a little ineffectual.

The Bridges of Madison County (1995) Something of a miracle, really. Eastwood and scenarist
Richard LaGravenese manage to take Robert James Waller's soppily narcissistic best-seller and turn it into a good movie.  

First off, they concentrate on the kids and their shock and consternation that Mom had the temerity (and the bad taste!) to have an affair, which provides good moments of comedy and perspective. Then, Eastwood had the great good sense to cast Meryl Streep in the woman's role: her Italian Iowan house-wife is ungainly and goose-like with an earthy Anna Magnani quality, and Eastwood, looking scraggly and snaggle-toothed, brings something to his wolfish photographer role he never before attempted—casualness. And a vulnerability without a hint of comedy. Reportedly, the producers wanted younger actors in the roles, but neither Streep or Eastwood are afraid to show the lines in their faces or the grey in their hair. And Eastwood's light directorial touch and appreciation of Streep's gifts come through in every frame. 

The book is garbage. The movie made from it is astoundingly good and heartfelt.

The two lovers separate for the last time, through ever-increasing veneers of transparent glass and rain. Eastwood displaying sentimentality and cruelty simultaneously, while Streep must endure her inner life in the context of her responsibilities. Eastwood wrote the music for the scene as well. Amazing work, this.
(Warner Bros., who are doing a sweep of their copyrighted material from the internet—for their 100th Anniversary—
has removed the crucial scene after this where Streep makes the choice to stay with her husband...brilliantly directed)

Absolute Power (1997) Retiring thief Luther Whitney (Eastwood) has good luck mostly, but then he knocks over a high-society place that, it turns out, belongs to the mistress of the President of the United States (Gene Hackman), and witnesses a drunken brawl that turns into murder at President Allen Richmond's hands. The script (by William Goldman, coming out before knowledge of Bill Clinton's White House infidelities) speaks of privilege and entitlement and the moral vacuum of Washington, D.C., which is the only thing making the story rise above its pulpish origins as a cat-and-mouse chase between one wily thief and the entire United States government (personified by agents Scott Glenn, Dennis Haysbert and Ed Harris and Chief of Staff Judy Davis). The coffee-counter discussion between Eastwood and Harris is one of those scenes where two actors have a good time sizing each other up while filming. Early appearance by Laura Linney as Whitney's daughter, an attorney, who ends up as bait for both sides. Eastwood would use her again.

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (1997) Eastwood takes on another best-seller, this time chronicling the Jim Williams trials in Savannah, Georgia, with another script by John Lee Hancock. The cast is colorful (with some of the actual denizens playing themselves), as John Cusack plays a character like author John Berendt, who befriends and becomes witness to a society-page murder that rocks the entire town. At the swanky traditional ball of Williams (Kevin Spacey), the bon vivant's latest boy-toy (Jude Law) shows up not as the life of the party, but "The Death." The town becomes divided, as sides are taken and a series of decidedly unconventional trials (four of them, in fact, for the very same murder) take place. It's a juicy story, though a bit convoluted, and Eastwood clearly relishes the quirky characters (especially The Lady Chablis) more than the minutiae of the story. The film also stars Jack Thompson, Irma P. Hall, Kim Hunter, Geoffrey Lewis and Eastwood's daughter, Allison. It is the first film since Bird that Eastwood does not appear in. 

True Crime (1999) Eastwood tells two parallel stories along a single time-line: one, of the last day of a death-row inmate (Isaiah Washington) and the preparations he and the state must make in the 24 hours before his execution, and the other, of the crusty reporter-in-recovery (Eastwood) who follows his instincts that the guy is innocent. But he has until 12:01 am to prove it. Despite the manipulation of the set-up, it does turn into a nail-biter, as it becomes readily apparent that in the count-down to the inmate's zero-hour, the concerns of the state—even the protesters outside—have nothing to do with the man's innocence. Everyone is focused on the minutiae of ritual and protocol, in their own manacled lock-step with the Dead Man Walking. The film is loaded with great actors given "bits"—Eastwood gives James Woods a lot of latitude to stretch and their scenes together are a loopy highlight. But, also on hand are Diane Venora, Frances Fisher (and Eastwood's daughter by her), Denis Learyperfecting his slow burn, Bernard Hill, Michael McKean, the great Michael Jeter and cameos by William Windom and a young up-and-comer named Lucy "Alexis" Liu.

Space Cowboys (2000) One wonders what drove Eastwood to take on this project (probably inspired by grounded "Original 7" astronaut Deke Slayton finally making it into space aboard a joint Russian U.S. space-flight and John Glenn's flight at age 77) with fellow Korean War vet James Garner, new kids Donald Sutherland and James Cromwell, and youngsters Tommy Lee Jones, William Devane, and Marcia Gay Harden (look fast enough and you can see Jon Hamm—this was his first movie).*** A Russian space weapon has gone rogue in orbit, and it's up to four washed out test-pilots (who are well past their expiration date) to secretly fix the problem quickly and quietly before the shitski hits the fan. A lot of the effects work is extraordinarily complicated, with a lot of elaborate CGI work by ILM and Wonderworks ("Mythbusters" Adam Savage built some of the models)—the actors are on wires before a green-screen, but it's a bit of a throw-away movie, a Kelly's Heroes in orbit, except for a final image that still haunts to this day. In a flash-back sequence, Eastwood is portrayed by Britisher Toby Stephens (son of Maggie Smith and Robert Stephens), who nails Eastwood's snarl perfectly.

Blood Work (2002) Pulp-thriller featuring Eastwood as an FBI profiler who suffers a near fatal heart attack chasing down a serial killer ("The Code Killer"). Years later and two months in recovery from a heart transplant, he's approached to crack a cold case—the murder of the woman whose heart is beating in his chest.

Hey, no pressure.

It's a minor paperback thriller by
Michael Connolly turned into a minor mystery film—it has one of those clever little puzzle clues that lets you know who the killer is— but Eastwood fills it full of good character actors like Paul Rodriguez as the detective most irritated with Eastwood's meddling, Anjelica Huston as his hand-wringing oncologist and Jeff Daniels as his marina neighbor who serves as the sounding board for all the exposition about serial killers. Still, the heart issues are a neat little gambit to keep the "mature" Eastwood from having to do a lot of stunts. Poor Jeff Daniels gets the brunt of it. Diverting, but a bit anemic.

Mystic River (2003) Dennis Lehane's brutal examination of revenge-at-all-costs makes a compelling film about three boy-hood friends (Sean Penn, Tim Robbins, Kevin Bacon) for whom life makes uneasy paths. The film is positively searing, so much so that I still have friends who despise the movie and its subject matter.**** As the subject is the vulnerability of children in a predatory society, it's hard to blame them. Boston hood Jimmy Markum (Penn) has his world turned upside down when his daughter is murdered, and the investigators (Bacon and Laurence Fishburne) can't seem to find the killer. As the cops continue their investigation, Markum begins to suspect his friend Dave Boyle (Robbins), who is still marked by a childhood kidnapping and brutalization by pedophiles, and for whom the attack on Jimmy's daughter re-opens old wounds, creating doubts in the mind of his weak-willed wife (Marcia Gay Harden), while Jimmy's wife (an extraordinary Laura Linney) has her own issues. Penn has one scene of grief that is alarming in its theatricality, but then his performance settles down into an internal seething, cold and calculating. Both he and Robbins won Oscars for their work and Harden was nominated for Best Supporting Actress (and Linney should have if not for the brevity of her part). The movie was nominated for Best Picture and Eastwood for best director; its the first film for which he wrote the entire score—it's a bit bombastic, but then, so are some of the performances. The final shots are chilling as the principals silently acknowledge how they are locked into their roles.

"Piano Blues" (Episode of "Martin Scorsese Presents: The Blues," 2003) Eastwood gives himself the easiest job of the Scorsese-produced study of the Blues form. The director merely sets up shop at the Clint Eastwood scoring stage (at Warner Brothers Studios) and sits on the piano bench with some legendary blues keyboardists (like Ray Charles and Dave Brubeck) and just shakes his head and smiles. 

Once they stop playing, Eastwood asks some pretty pointed questions, both as a long-time devotee and an appreciative fan, but mostly he just sits and watches and beams ...and, most importantly, stays out of the way of the music. For all the pyrotechnics of the other episodes of the series that took away from the Art it was examining, Eastwood, the fan from his earliest days as a teenager, might've had the right idea.

Million Dollar Baby (2004) F.X. Toole's stories of desperate people risking their lives, literally trying to fight their way to rise above it, gets its first portrayal on-screen with this multi-Oscar award winner (including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actress Hilary Swank—her second—and Best Supporting Actor Morgan Freeman—his second—Eastwood was nominated for Best Actor, but lost to Jamie Foxx for Ray, quite understandably). It received a lot of criticism for its surprising story, which critics were generally pretty good about not revealing. But, really, how can you criticize something that feels original enough to hit you so hard it knocks the air out of you? A tough movie that doesn't shadow box around its subject and subverts the standard sports "feel good" cliches, post-Rocky, Million Dollar Baby was the underdog film no one wanted to make, and ended up taking the gold. Maybe it is a "feel good" story, after all.

Flags of Our Fathers (2006)  Not so much the story of the Battle of Iwo Jima (although that is extensively portrayed), as the fall-out from that battle and its iconic and inspirational record of the Marines raising the flag (actually the second American flag) on Mt. Suribachi. Soldier Ira Hayes' story had been told before (in Delbert Mann's The Outsider), but Eastwood completes the tale of the other surviving soldiers who were pulled out of service to tour the country as press-agents for the war and sell war-bonds for the financially strapped effort. At the time of the Iraq War, the trading on dewey-eyed patriotism (best seen through distorting tears in one's eyes) to "sell" a prolonged fight seemed especially pointed, and showed that not much changes in the duplicity of governments and their ability to manipulate, not even in the manufactured rocket's red glare of "A Good War."

Flags of Our Fathers was roundly criticized by Spike Lee for not showing the black soldiers fighting on Iwo Jima, thereby proving 1) he hadn't seen the movie and 2) he was missing the point. Lee was oddly silent on the issue for Eastwood's next movie that came out only a few months later.

Letters from Iwo Jima (aka 硫黄島からの手紙) (2006) During the production of Flags of Our Fathers, Eastwood suddenly had the urge to tell the story of the battle from the other side—a somewhat radical idea for an American production company—and based the story on "'Gyokusai sōshikikan' no etegami" ("Pictures Letters from the Commander-in-Chief") the collected letters home from General Tadamichi Kuribayashi, telling the main story-line from his perspective (portrayed by Ken Watanabe), but also presenting back-stories for most of the main characters. Presented almost entirely in Japanese, with a strictly Japanese cast, it won numerous Best Film in a Foreign Language Awards, and was No. 1 at the Japanese Box Office for five weeks, a testament to its attention to detail. It did far better in international markets than in the States, but it topped many critics' lists of that year. It's a great film, detailing the desperation of soldiers in a "must-win" battle

Changeling (2008) As per its title, Changeling starts as one thing and turns into another. The story of a single mother (Angelina Jolie) in 1920's Los Angeles, whose son goes missing, she becomes a cause celebre and, to her horror, finds that the Los Angeles police have conspired to use her as a PR tool by bringing her a kid, any kid, to make it look like they've solved the case. When she protests, the cops try to silence her by locking her in a mental institution. And then, it gets very interesting. Eastwood's feminist take on oppression and fighting authority also contains a forgotten incident so horrific an entire California town changed its name to avoid being tarred with it. Jolie is great in this, at her tigerish best, and John Malkovich is kept under proper restraint, but it's the secondary characters in the drama who give the most amazing performances. Moody and harsh, it's the best of Eastwood's pulp-textured films. 

Gran Torino (2008) I talked about this one in the first part of this series. Trashed by many critics as being racist and too simplistic, this is Eastwood's obvious final bow to his audience, featuring the perfect period to his long acting career. Racist? Right, he said sarcastically through his gritted teeth. Eastwood fills the picture with Hmong non-actors merely for their authenticity, and manages to get better performances than most directors combing the neighborhoods for "color." His Walt Kowalski is over the top, but Walt Kowalski is all bluff, like Will Munny at the end of Unforgivenhe talks real big and real scary, and that does the trick 95% of the time. That last 5% is the tough nut, though, and Kowalski, with enough reason to make a sacrifice, faces down a semi-circle of guns as so many Eastwood characters have in the past. He still manages to come out triumphant with his goals met, but there's no place for a post-carnage glib quip ironic sign-off for Eastwood's acting career. 

Invictus (2009) A rare Eastwood "prestige" project, made as a vehicle for friend Morgan Freeman to fulfill a personal goal of playing Nelson Mandela. But two things have occurred to me since the movie premiered: 1) It would appear to be another in the "whitey-saves-the-day" series of movies (like, say Avatar), except that it's a true story and that that is the point. It's a united effort among the races, rugby players, fans and bodyguards, to put differences aside for a common goal; 2) is that Eastwood's direction of the rugby match is fascinating, as it's not a fast-moving game, but a slow, inexorable pile-on of players pushing each other slowly, inexorably to their goals. Nice metaphor, that. And I still contend that Eastwood's interest is a bit more with the story of Mandela's bodyguards, who previously had been political enemies, who form a bond watching Mandela's back...and each other's.

Hereafter (2010)  Okay, if you're going to take a broad overview of Eastwood's career, this might be the last movie you'd expect him to make. But the 80 year old director of such films as Breezy and The Bridges of Madison County seems like a natural fit for a story of faith, hope and charity despite the constant presence—and reminder—of Death. Peter Morgan's precise multi-lingual script is a triangular story of Fates waiting to mingle, that the three people involved have been touched by the near-occasion of death, and each are subconsciously fulfilling mutual needs for a satisfying ending. Still, the movie's a bit of a tease, what with its frightfully effective opening sequence depicting a killer tsunami, Matt Damon's reluctant psychic who just hates talking to the dead, and the fleeting presentations of enticing glimpses into The White Light. But, it is not death that Hereafter is most concerned with, it is Life, and living a good one, knowing it will end. It is a story of turning your back on "The Undiscovered Country" to appreciate what you know...and appreciate that there is just as much unknown here, as there. Deceptively simple, but very, very deep.

J. Edgar (2013) A bio-pic of, for-all-intents-and-purposes, the FBI's first "president-for-life," J. Edgar Hoover (played by Leonardo DiCaprio), who quickly rose in the ranks of the bureau, and championed it as the nation's expert in investigation and forensics, with himself as its top-cop. Most movie biographies flit from highlight to highlight, but Eastwood's (with a sympathetic script by Milk scribe Dustin Lance Black) jumps from irony to irony. Structured around Hoover dictating his reminiscences to a revolving door of Bureau ghost-writers (who are never seen again once they question anything about Hoover's account), it traces his boyhood with a domineering mother (played by Dame Judi Dench), his terror of women, attraction toward men (if they're well-groomed, of course), suspicion of anarchists, gangsters and Communists (and ultimately anybody), and his investigative fetish that led him to hold secrets on any person of power or prominence.  J. Edgar goes for the party line of his being a closeted gay man hoarding the secrets of others, in fear of his own, but takes a decidedly empathetic view of the man, at times seeming like a kind of Citizen Kane, showing the weak side of the powerful, and even suggesting that Hoover might be a hero for not playing ball with the Nixon administration in their "dirty tricks" tactics. It is strangely compelling told this way, only hampered by some terrible make-up encasing Armie Hammer's performance of Hoover's long-time companion, Clyde Tolson. 

Jersey Boys (2014) Eastwood does a musical. In fact, the hit musical from Broadway that may be the best of the so-called "jukebox musicals." Well, why not? He's done all sorts of different genres, he's a music lover, and his action choreography makes him a natural for staging musical numbers for maximum effect. And he didn't have to do much adaptation work—just plunk the first-person narratives of the Four Seasons into the real world and the streets where they first practiced their sound. It's rather a melancholy story—all too typical of music groups—where the inspiration and love for the art and performance can't last through the bruising of egos and the grappling for attention as success comes their way. Eastwood keeps the pace up (although sometimes the editing in dialogue scenes is a little too emphatic) and cuts loose during the music sequences. The best part? The curtain call, where the entire cast (the entire cast) gets into the act for a rousing singing-dancing version of "December 1963." And when it ends, Eastwood holds the cast on their last gesture...eerily. Here it is.

American Sniper (2014) Eastwood doesn't shirk from the moral quandary that swirls around American Sniper like so much gun-smoke. We watch Navy S.E.A.L. sniper Chris Kyle (Bradley Cooper) on an Iraqi rooftop, endlessly watching, over-seeing a street that will soon see a column of his fellow SEAL's. Any warm body is a potential adversary, a potential target, and he must meet surprise with surprise, stealth against stealth. But, when the targets become a mother and child passing an RPG, he must act. And when a stray child bends to pick up the RPG later, he will hiss between shallow breaths "Don't do it...don't do it." It doesn't get more elemental or brutal or savage than that. It is act or don't act, and in the choice is the consequence that must be lived with in the aftermath.

The story of Chris Kyle is a story about duty and conscience and their conflicts, and missed opportunities no matter how good one's aim. That the story is an all-encompassing tragedy must have appealed to the cynic in Eastwood and the patriot, as well.

Sully (2016) So, we come full circle in Clint Eastwood's career—he goes from becoming a star in a westernized version of Kurosawa's Yojimbo to making his own version of Kurosawa's RashomonSully, the story of the story of The Miracle on the Hudson. We're first presented the nightmare scenario—the flight of US Airways Flight 1549 suffers an engine failure when it is hit by birds; there is damage assessment, attempts at resuscitation, the gathering of information and opinions and Captain Chesley Sullenberger (Tom Hanks) decides he's going to attempt a landing at the closest airport that his glide-path will take him on. It is a disaster, waking Sullenberger up from the nightmare scenario that prevents his sleep. Over the next hour and a half, we'll see those minutes tick by from every conceivable angle and light: speculation, simulation, expert opinion and the less expert public opinion. We'll also see it as reality, the true events of Sullenberger's "ditching" in the Hudson river, as Sullenberger goes over the events in his mind and has them thrust on him, as he prepares, mentally, for the NTSB hearing on the event. The tidings aren't good: the airline and the insurance company want a body to hang, someone to blame, and computerized analysis determines that Sullenberger needn't have made so dramatic a landing.

The film takes on a "John Henry" air as man must go against computer and the nano-second by nanosecond record of his actions. It is Rashomon in style, but it is a damning indictment of metrics versus humans and Society's obsession with endlessly analyzing and dissecting to the point of nothing, and the damage that it can make to the greater good. "Sully," (ironically) couldn't be more appropriate of a title.

The 15:17 to Paris (2018)
The 2015 terrorist attack of the Thalys train to Paris (never heard of it? This story of this movie is probably the reason why) was one of those instances where disaster was avoided by good people doing good things in the face of adversity without the need of first responders. The movie was put in fast turn-around when the story was published with three actors playing the roles. Then, Eastwood—sensing the relationship between the lead characters would be tough to pull off, cast the real trio of Americans to portray themselves (there is a rumor that Eastwood even tried to cast the terrorist, who was, understandably on trial). Stunt casting? Maybe. But, if anything, the real guys underplay their roles and seem more natural (naturally!) than the way these things get portrayed in action movies. Maybe Eastwood just liked these guys—Spencer Stone, Anthony Sadler, and Alek Skarlatos, all of 23 at the time of the attack—and couldn't see any reason not to cast them, as he had young Hmong actors in Gran Torino, and the many local residents he'd employ in so many of his movies. Besides, these weren't "made-up" characters, they were real people. Why not? And although derided by critics for their performances, the guys aren't bad at all—just not artful. The performances I had trouble with are the kids portraying the guys as children (and they were actors). But, then, I don't pretend to be a professional critic. The film died at the box-office, but has emerged as a curiosity of the "it- isn't-as-bad-as-I'd-heard" variety.

The Mule (2018) Based on the New York Times article "The Sinaloa Cartel's 90-Year Old Drug Mule," The Mule tells the story of Earl Stone (played by Eastwood) who, to make ends meet after his business as a commercial horticulturist fails, ends up being a drug runner for a drug cartel. It's easy money, work he can do, and, as long as no questions are asked, he's fine with it all, and actually enjoys the fact that he's a bit of an "odd duck" in the dangerous trade and, because of his age and demeanor, manages to allay any suspicion. He's good at the job, but a failure as a family-man, disappointing all those close to him, giving more attention to strangers. Running parallel with Stone's story is an FBI investigation led by agents played by Bradley Cooper and Michael Peña. 

Eastwood's direction is simple, efficient, and not showy—as it usually is—and the performances are good throughout, with Dianne Wiest and Alison Eastwood being the stand-outs. Cooper and Peña are not given much to do other than act professional. It's Eastwood's show and a cautionary tale on the price of selfishness, hubris, and getting rick too quick—and of stubbornness without conscience.

Richard Jewell (2019) The story of the Atlanta Olympics Bombing and the fall-out that ensued when the security guard who found the bomb was then accused of planting it and— thanks to the pressures of high-stakes journalism—had what little reputation he had besmirched makes for an interesting parable in this day of 24 hour journalism, where the first drafts of history are dispensed without so much as a fact-check beyond the proverbial two sources. It rings a little hollow as a critique when it's speculated that a reporter slept with their source in exchange for information, but it sure does score points for being skeptical of authority as the too-respectful Jewell (played heartbreakingly by Paul Walter Hauser) is led astray and almost railroaded by his impetus to "do the right thing." Hauser is great in this, but Kathy Bates (playing Jewell's anguished mother) and the ever-reliable Sam Rockwell come off best in the acting honors.

Cry Macho
91 year old Eastwood directs and stars in a project that had been floating around Hollywood since the 1970's—and was only bought by Hollywood when the author turned it into a best-selling novel. He plays a washed-up bronc-buster and rodeo star given an assignment by his dead-beat boss—who's also a dead-beat Dad—to go across the Mexican border and bring back the man's son from his estranged wife. Both parents are wrecks at parenting, but the guy's owed, so plans are made only to find that the kid has skipped home and is living on the streets, making a living stealing cars and cock-fighting his ornery rooster, Macho.

It is slow and stately—probably because the movie is in danger of breaking a hip—but, as a coming-of-age story (for both the adult and the pre-teen) it has a tentative grace and its heart firmly in the right place.
And if this is Eastwood's last film—as actor or director—one couldn't quibble with the last shot being his final image: Eastwood dancing in a smokey twilight with his Mexican paramour as the image turns to black.

Now I've Seen Everything Dept.: Clint Eastwood Part 1

* It did, initially. First, the Army refused co-operation, then the Marines stepped in. But upon seeing a first cut of the film, withdrew their support.

** well as a well-deserved and long overdue second Oscar for Best Supporting Performance to Gene Hackman who, eyeing retirement from acting, initially rejected the part, thinking the movie too violent. He would start a long string of overlooked performers who would win awards in Eastwood movies, including Morgan Freeman, Sean Penn and Tim Robbins. But Hackman is terrific in this role. One line has always stood out for me. Staring up at the barrel of Munny's rifle pointed at his neck, Dagget blurts out: "I don't deserve this... to die like this. I was building a house." Which is why I chuckle every time I hear Hackman deliver the Lowe's Home Improvement tag-line—"Let's build something together."

*** The initial team of oldster astronauts was Eastwood, Jones, Sean Connery (in the Sutherland role) and Jack Nicholson (in the Garner part). That would have been...wild.

**** They aren't alone. Premiere Magazine (RIP) named Mystic River one of its "20 Most Overrated Movies of All Time."

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