The 1967 movie version of Charles Portis' novel, True Grit, is an excellent movie that captures the spirit of John Wayne in his epic portrayal of U.S. Marshal Rooster Cogburn. But for all intents and purposes, the novel was really about the growth of a young woman, Mattie Ross, who narrates the written version and again stars in the Coen Brothers' 2010 remake. Sure, Cogburn is still a polarizing figure of great proportions, but this time around, Ross seems to get her due.
Mattie (Hailee Steinfeld) plays a male role in this late 19th century Western. She's observant, good with "figures," independent, stubborn, and naive enough to believe that men are men, and criminals will be punished. She's so sure of what she believes that she presses on after the murder of her father by "the coward Tom Chaney" (Josh Brolin) until she gets the law's attention in the persona of Cogburn. Mattie knows her stuff: she knows the Bible better than the landlady, bartering better than the businessman who previously took her father to the cleaners, and herself better than anyone else in town knows themselves.
But Mattie can't bring back her father, and she can't capture his killer without help.
If this wasn't a Western, it would go a number of ways, which might involve forgiveness, Mattie's death, or a plethora of ways that wouldn't make sense. Instead, Mattie calmly watches a public hanging (the Coens can't help but augment the joy that the mob takes in the deaths of the criminals) and steadfastly pushes through the Old Testament "eye for an eye" justice that she's been raised with. This is frontier justice, and it's clear that without justice, there can be no peace. Mattie has to make things right because her family can't, her mother and brother are too weak, and she has to see to it that her father's memory is redeemed by the payment of blood.
Those of you who have seen Coen movies before know that this is right up their alley. It's no surprise that the level of violence here is higher than the 1967 version, but it's still dampened by the PG-13 rating. It's as if the Coens did a 1960s Western their way—same spirit and all, and a pleasant matinee afternoon for the whole family. They have in mind that the villains will pay but that the heroes will be marked by their effort, refusing to give in under the weight or pressure to give up but still scarred by the sacrifice to make it right again.
All of this leads me to say that Cogburn is a Christ-figure... in the wilderness. In town, he merely appears as a man, just like all of the other men, bent by the concerns of his job and undeterred by the twenty-three men that he's killed. But in the wilderness, it's his code which sets him apart, whether it's rescuing LeBoeuf (Matt Damon) or taking a bullet intended for someone else, risking his life for a fourteen-year-old girl or doing a job without being paid his wages. Some might argue just as articulately that it's Mattie who changes Rooster or who reminds him why he is a marshal in the first place; the dialogue isn't such that we are proselytized to much, but the outcomes for the characters remains the same.
Rooster changes for the better or exhibits a better self; Mattie becomes a self-sufficient woman in community but recognizes her own limitations; justice is served. It's classic Western material, and enough to make me think that this doesn't replace Wayne's Grit but it does make for a different version of the same story.
Jacob Sahms
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