Cinema Review: True Grit (2010)

There was a suggestion, back when the Coen brothers were in their "slump" of 2003-4, that the reason they'd apparently lost their mojo was that they were no longer working from their own imagination: Intolerable Cruelty was the first time they'd worked with an existing script, and The Ladykillers was a remake. As if they had a point to prove - that they could put their trademark Coen stamp even on material they didn't originate - their two most acclaimed movies since then have both been adapted from novels. Their version of Cormac McCarthy's No Country for Old Men was heralded as their masterpiece, and now they've turned to Charles Portis' True Grit to almost equal critical, and even greater commercial, success. Indeed, not only has Grit become the brothers' highest-grossing film, it has also become the most popular Western since Clint Eastwood lay down his spurs with Unforgiven.

Of course, Portis' novel is not alien to the silver screen - John Wayne rode off with his only Best Actor Oscar under Henry Hathaway's direction in the 1969 incarnation. The Coens have been keen to stress that this is not a remake, though; it is, instead, a new adaptation of the novel. Rooster Cogburn may be the story's most famous character - Jeff Bridges steps into the shoes previously occupied by Wayne - but the protagonist is clearly Mattie Ross, a 14-year-old girl who's hunting for her father's killer, and recruits Cogburn to that end. Despite being categorised as a supporting actress for the Academy voting system, newcomer Hailee Steinfeld carries the weight of the film on her shoulders, and never once stumbles under the strain. Her performance is mannered and rather stiff but it's clear that was the Coens' intent, and the way Steinfeld masters her writer-directors' arcane dialogue is most impressive.

Bridges, meanwhile, is his usual laconic self, given a few additional layers of alcoholism, unkemptness and untrustworthiness. It's remarkable how Bridges never seems like he's acting and never even looks like he's putting in much effort, but simply to give that impression must take the utmost professionalism and skill. There is a third member that makes a central triumvirate, Matt Damon's LaBoeuf, and while he's an entertaining presence, his character never quite seems to emerge as whole; his early bluster and boastfulness never quite develops into much of an arc. Humorously, though, at one point an injury gives him something of a speech impediment, forming quite a pair with the already rather unintelligible Cogburn. Subtitles would occasionally come in handy!

In truth, the film as a whole does promise slightly more than it delivers. The first act is superb, introducing us to the main characters with style and elegance. The typical Coen wit is never far from displaying itself either, be it of the blackly comedic kind (a scene of a triple hanging elicits a laugh) or through verbal repartee (Mattie's bartering with a local storekeeper). Once the elements are in place for the trek through the wilderness, however, proceedings become rather more conventional, barring the odd bit of trademark Coen absurdity, and a measured pace sorely misses the constant suspense of No Country. The banter between the frank Mattie and the rambling Cogburn remains a joy, though, and some tense set-pieces are extremely well handled. Finally, an unexpected epilogue provides a moving, wistful coda, ending the tale on a perfect note.



Summary
They've done neo-Western already; now the Coens have turned their considerable talents to the traditional sort, and deliver an excellent, character-driven entry in the enduring genre.