True Grit

Another excellent film from the Coen Brothers.

Before the start of True Grit, a quote from Proverbs 28:1 appears on the screen: “The wicked flee when no man pursueth.” This verse doesn’t just set the tone of Ethan and Joel Coen’s gritty Western; it also provides us with a lens to view it through. As do the words of the story’s heroine, who in an early scene muses: “You must pay for everything in this world. Nothing is free but the grace of God.” These two ideas combined exist purposefully as commentary. In fact, they’re almost necessary for the unfortunate moviegoers, and critics, who continue to misunderstand the Coen brothers, mistaking their work for hipster nihilism and missing its moral value altogether. As the “random” first scene in A Serious Man reminded us, their films are meant to be seen as parables.

Consequently, True Grit, based on the 1968 novel of the same name, doesn’t play like your average revenge flick, even though advertisements promise, “Retribution this Christmas.” Despite its simple storyline, the film offers profound insight into human nature and enlightens us on the harsh, and sometimes fatal, consequences of vengeance. It follows the spunky 14-year-old Mattie Ross, who believes herself to be a bearer of God’s justice and becomes bent on avenging her father’s murder. Joined by the drunken, eyepatch-wearing U.S. Marshal “Rooster” Cogburn (Jeff Bridges) and the haughty Texas Ranger La Boeuf (a mustached Matt Damon), Mattie sets off on a personal crusade after the killer, Tom Chaney (Josh Brolin).

Yet even though everything works out mostly as planned, the story doesn’t merely conclude with justice prevailing. Mattie's fall into a cave in the movie’s riveting climax represents her moral descent, and as we see in the film’s concluding moments, her thirst for revenge has its price. As necessary and gratifying as her justice may be, even Mattie can’t escape the truth of her previous words about justice and grace. In the final scene, she is shown as a grown woman, scarred because of her actions. Like Cogburn and La Boeuf, who carry around the weight of retribution, Mattie is portrayed as a tired soul calloused by her past. Physically, if not emotionally, she can never escape it.

While the humanity of the characters is fully present in the clever, unsentimental script, and is fully realized in Mattie’s dialogue, the performances hold it all together. As two cowboys worn down by killing, Jeff Bridges and Matt Damon are utterly convincing. Bridges’ Cogburn has taken to the bottle for his pain, and Damon’s La Boeuf tries to hide his vulnerability through pride. In many ways, the characters are sad: La Boeuf can’t be taken seriously, and Cogburn’s enemies mock him. They are, nevertheless, so flawed and pathetic that we can’t help but laugh. A stereotypical Texan, La Boeuf never stops talking about how everything is better in Texas, while Coburn’s grumpy attitude plays out in several memorable moments, like a time when Mattie talks to him outside an outhouse or a scene where he kicks two little Indian kids. Together, as they stubbornly try to take down Chaney their own separate ways, Cogburn and La Boeuf form a hilarious and unforgettable relationship that’s based as much on respect as it is exasperation, in the end, making their redemption all the better.

As the quirky humor demonstrates, True Grit is made effective and enlightening by its ability to entertain. Its moral implications are so subtly engrained into the story that they never make it feel didactic. That is genius of the Coen brothers. Their films have it all: smart scripts, remarkable dialogue, memorable characters, believable performances, stunning visuals but, most of all, depth. Not as dark or eccentric as prior works, True Grit may be the Coens’ most accessible film yet. It not only shows maturity and a continuous absorption in the divine, but the film confirms their true feelings about violence and just how misunderstood they are.

David Roark