True Grit
2010
Dir. Joel & Ethan Coen
I have a weird relationship with the Coens. Not on a personal level. We don’t go around to each others houses for tea and neither have we had a history where one stole the others girlfriend (you can keep Francis McDormand, Joel). It’s their films. Sometimes I click with them first time, and sometimes I struggle. I have tried to like O Brother Where Art Thou? And have failed every time. Yet, at other times I have fallen head-over-heels in love with their work. Their last offering, Burn After Reading, fell into the first camp, while True Grit, I am extremely pleased to say, falls into the second.
As Coen Brothers films go, it could not be a more straight-forward example of story-telling. The narrative is, on first glance, nothing more than a straight forward revenge tale, albeit told from the perspective of a 14 year old girl. Look deeper though, and you soon find that it isn’t just that.
The Coens have produced a film which sticks to classic narrative form and yet is dashed with flourishes throughout which could have only come from their brush. While there is nothing new about the way the story progresses, there is something new to be found in the approach the brothers have to the material. No longer is the girl or the Texas Ranger a second fiddle player to the antics of Rooster Cogburn, but instead they are as important as each other. The story is not one persons alone, despite the narration indicating that it is, because with every story comes a variety of different experiences from all those involved. While the tale this time is definitely Mattie’s (instead of Rooster’s as in the original), the Coens understand that her tale is not just about her and it is this which helps raise the film above the usual Western fair.
It is a brief film, flying by at 110 minutes, but none of that time is wasted with laboured emotions or stifled dialogue. In fact, the dialogue almost seems as alive as the characters it comes from and is filled with some wonderful turns of phrase (“the man with the mustaches” sticks out clearly as one woman identifies the Sheriff early in the film).
The central trio work off each other brilliantly, with LeBeouf and Cogburn grinding on each other and yet respecting each other, even if they won’t admit it. Their bickering is a source of much amusement, as is the constant smart-talking by Mattie, but what isn’t said holds just as much power as what is. While other film-makers would make the mistake of having them all pat each other on the back when all is said and done, and remain bonded together forever, the Coens deliberately play against this and stop any such scene from happening by keeping them all apart once the adventure is over. It makes the time they spent together more poignant without ever having to say it.
This ability to convey much without stating it is as true of Bridges and Damon’s performances as well. Damon in particular fills LaBeouf’s pomposity and bravado marvellously, but is also able to instil a sense of humanity and honour which he never needs declare. He and Bridges work together so well that by the end of the film you know each respects the other but never says so and there is never any need to. The performance says it all.
Damon plays LaBeouf as a show-off, but one with a sense of insecurity buried just beneath the uniform he wears, while Bridges plays the crotchety, chisled old man who looks so craggy in face and soul that you can almost smell him.
Hattie Steinfield plays Mattie with strength, determination and a no-nonsense manner while holding onto the child-like inability to realise when you’re in too deep and need someone’s help. She is an incredibly strong actor, avoiding the pitfalls of many others of her age who can only veer from one single emotion to another.
Even though equal importance is placed on all three characters, Mattie Ross is the real hero of the piece and the Coens smartly give her the strength and intelligence that would be needed to survive in the type of world they create on screen. The town is filled with those who do not care for others unless it benefits them with a reward. Every time Mattie wants something she has to strike a deal and the Coens give her words strong enough to talk the Devil into setting himself on fire. The exchange with the horse-trader is one of the funniest scenes I have seen for quite some time. It’s almost the exact reverse, in terms of mood, to the discussion had in No Country For Old Men.
The dry sense of humour, which the Coens do so well, still sits as comfortably alongside the action and unique dialogue, as their familiar brutal violence. The moments are brief, but they still manage to shock. It might be a straight-forward genre film, but they have no qualms about putting their stamp on it.
More than that though, the Coens know the conventions of the genre. For long stretches there is little action on screen, but instead they carefully draw their characters together and bond them in a way that never seems trite. Then, when the story calls for it, the action feels all the more powerful because it comes just at the right moment and is delivered in just the right way. A charge across open land with unfair odds rises into a truly heroic moment as the music swells and the action becomes heart-lifting and thrilling.
Economy has always been the key with the Coens best work and they have such a sure sense of timing that rarely does a foot go wrong in the movie. The emotional core is strong throughout, and the final moments of the film cause a lump to rise in the throat, without ever sinking so low as to pile on emotion as thickly as Katie Price’s make-up.
The Coens understand layers, and how they build over scenes and time to create a rich, complete experience instead of simply slapping on the required clichés to elicit a response. Everything comes together because they spent the brief time the characters are on screen so well that a reaction is natural. It’s a tale of grand deeds and larger than life characters, but underneath all that grit, they are just as frail and accident-prone as the rest of us, and it is that emotional bond which, for me, struck the strongest chord.
