True Grit

[coyotegoth]

The first thing about the Coen brothers' adaptation of the Charles Portis novel True Grit that struck me is how little it feels like what we've come to consider "a Coen brothers movie." The Coens' second adaptation of a novel- No Country for Old Men was the first (not counting such unproduced projects as To the White Sea or the Ladykillers remake), this movie follows No Country in finding the Coens moving in the direction of narrative-driven movies: a girl (Hailee Steinfeld, a relative newcomer) wants revenge for her father's death; with the aid of Jeff Bridges's washed-up marshal Rooster Cogburn, she gets it, at no small cost to herself.

The movie is driven entirely around Jeff Bridges' performance as Cogburn; he actually manages to take the character further than John Wayne did in his Oscar winning 1969 turn (and in the sequel, with Katharine Hepburn(!)), and yet manages to transition smoothly from washed-up drunk to figure of vengeance, drawing down on his enemies as he gallops toward them like something out of a Johnny Cash song. Bridges is particularly good at Cogburn's caginess: sometimes he genuinely knows the answer's to the girl's innumerable questions and is withholding answers for his own reasons; sometimes he's simply bluffing his way through the situation; Bridges is always careful to let us know which. (The Coen brothers haven't completely given up on their twisted sense of humor, either: witness the fun Cogburn has in the scene where he offers to amputate the wounded tongue of Matt Damon's character.) There are innumerable other pelasures to be found in this movie, too: the scene in which Mattie makes a local businessman wish he had gone into another line of work; the pompous self-regard of Matt Damon's Texas ranger; the stark snowswept landscapes, looking like something out of McCabe & Mrs Miller. True Grit is a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, and a great deal of fun.