GRAN TORINO's crucial scene arrives somewhere in the second act, when Clint Eastwood's defiantly prejudiced Walt Kowalski brings his unlikely Hmong protege, Thao (Bee Vang), down to neighborhood barbershop for a lesson in the good-natured hurling of racial epithets. We've already seen Walt throw it around with Martin (John Carroll Lynch), the Italian proprietor ("wop", "polack" and "dago" are uttered with brusque impunity), but it's uncertain as to whether Thao can hang with these titans of vituperation; he's much more sensitive, and, most importantly, of a generation that views the use of such language as an invitation to fisticuffs or worse.

It's a brilliant scene in theory, but a forced refutation of political correctness in execution. Though Eastwood and Lynch are a pleasure, the non-pro Vang is painfully miscast; he's probably a nice kid in real life, but he just has no business standing in front of a movie camera. Worse, there's no imagination in the banter; it's mostly the kind of stock invective bellowed out in working class bars all over the midwest. One could argue that this is the point of Nick Schenk's bare-bones screenplay, but Eastwood isn't after naturalism or docudrama. GRAN TORINO is a metaphor-laden eulogy for a way of life and a make of man; as such, it should be special, not common. It should also, like the titular auto, have a little muscle under the hood.

The film opens at the funeral for Walt's wife. While Walt literally growls at the disrespectful dress and behavior of his grandkids (piercings and BlackBerrys are flaunted; three decades ago, they'd be long-haired and glassy-eyed), his sons fret over their old man's welfare. It's woefully obvious where this is going: now that the civilizing influence in Walt's life is gone, best to consign the curmudgeon to a retirement community rather than leave him stranded in what has become a predominantly Vietnamese neighborhood. But the sons are patronizing and chubby; they're as instantly unlikable as the Black Widows in Clint's Philoe Beddoe cycle (that is, before they became good guys in the splendid third act of ANY WHICH WAY YOU CAN). So the audience has an instant rooting interest in Walt's staying put.

There is not, however, a rooting interest in Walt's abhorrence of his Hmong neighbors; though they participate in bizarre, vaguely spiritual ceremonies, they seem a decent enough people. Sure, some of the teenagers are reprobates (i.e. gun-toting kids who prowl the boulevard spoiling for a fight), but others, like the forthright Sue (Ahney Her), are simply, uncomplicatedly kids. As for Sue's younger brother Thao, he doesn't exactly land on Walt's good side when he gets caught trying to boost the retired auto worker's vintage 1972 Gran Torino as part of a gang initiation. But when said gang kicks Thao's ass onto Walt's lawn, the cranky Korean War veteran and his trusty service rifle are helplessly drawn into the young man's life. According to Hmong custom, Thao owes Walt. And while Walt would just as soon ignore the whole obligation, Sue reaches out because she sees compassion in the man who freely calls her and her people "gooks".

"Idealized" doesn't begin to cover the circumstances of GRAN TORINO. Without the worldly-wise Sue, Walt keeps to himself on his stoop, knocking back Pabst Blue Ribbon while the gang recruitment of Thao proceeds unabated. But Sue takes a liking to Walt because Schenk needs to get the character off the porch, and so begins the cultural exchange of ideas and lessons: Thao learns self-reliance, while Walt learns that gooks are people, too. It all goes according to MLK's dream until that pesky gang ramps up their recruitment methods. This is where Walt and his impressive assortment of firearms comes in. Kind of.

Walt may be good about finishing things, but he's haunted by all the killing he did in the war. It weighs on him. When Thao asks what it's like to take another man's life, he says, "We all got it comin', kid." Sorry, that's too eloquent for this script. He just bluntly states,"You don't want to know." In other words, he didn't like it. Feels he did too much of it. Intimates that he may be open to a kind of penance (though not the spiritual kind being offered by the Catholic priest charged by Walt's wife with keeping her husband out of trouble and/or despair). Telegraphs by a country freakin' mile that he probably won't go bullet-for-bullet with the Hmong gang that did not-nice things to Thao's family.

GRAN TORINO is tolerable for the first two acts when it's just Eastwood behaving like a physically intimidating Don Rickles. Actually, much of what Eastwood is trying to accomplish in terms of race relations can probably be gleaned from MR. WARMTH, John Landis's ode to the famed insult comedian. It's a kind of "What makes us different, makes us funny" philosophy. And because Walt accepts that he's an "ofay", there's no malice in his calling Martin the barber a "dago". Same goes for the "spooks" who try to rape Sue. Or maybe he really means that. In any event, he's reformed by the end, right? No, he still gets off a "zipperhead" remark at Thao's expense before the closing credits.

Accepting Walt for what he is, and knowing that he's a) morally on the side of right, and b) emblematic of a dying breed seems to be the main thrust of GRAN TORINO. Fair enough. But Schenk's screenplay is so clumsy with the foreshadowing that the outcome and its intended "resonance" are clear from the outset - and it only gets more insultingly obvious as Walt prepares for his final gesture. With anyone else in the lead, this wouldn't be worth anyone's time. But with Eastwood up there on the big screen, verily screaming that this is his swan song, it's something more. It's a legend's last tweak of his onscreen image.

Sadly, it's one tweak too many. There may be clanging echoes of the Dirty Harry movies in GRAN TORINO, but, tonally, it works best as an homage to his rowdier, redneck-y work, like the Beddoe pictures or HEARTBREAK RIDGE (performance-wise, Walt Kowalski is a close cousin to the gruff Gunnery Sergeant Tom Highway). While I love those films for what they are, next time I want to honor them, I'll pick up a case of Schlitz and watch them at home. Or go to a honkytonk and get my teeth knocked out. Either would be preferable to sitting through GRAN TORINO again.

Faithfully submitted,

Mr. Beaks