The True grit review- For the first two-thirds of their careers, the producing/directing/writing team of Ethan and Joel Coen stuck to original screenplays. (More or less: “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” claims to be based on “The Odyssey,” but isn't. “Miller's Crossing” claims not to be based on “The Glass Key,” and is.) But three of their last five features came from outside source material — someone else's screenplay (“Intolerable Cruelty”), a novel (“No Country for Old Men,” their biggest hit), and an earlier film (“The Ladykillers,” which they rebuilt pretty much from the ground up). “True Grit,” their latest, is technically a remake, but in this case they've returned faithfully to Charles Portis' wonderful novel, essentially undoing the changes wrought by Hollywood in Henry Hathaway's 1969 version.
This time around, Jeff Bridges takes on the role of Rooster Cogburn, the crotchety, drunken U.S. Marshal hired by ultra-plucky teenager Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld) to capture Tom Chaney (Josh Brolin), the varmint who murdered her father. Mattie is a mere 14, but she is smart and determined way beyond her years, insisting on accompanying Cogburn as he hunts Chaney and his gang's boss, Ned Pepper (Barry Pepper). Also attaching himself to the expedition is green Texas Ranger LaBoeuf (Matt Damon).
The original "Ladykillers," with Alec Guinness and Peter Sellers, may be a classic Ealing comedy, but it didn't come freighted with the kind of baggage “True Grit” carries. The 1969 version won John Wayne his only Best Actor Oscar; it was a perfect example of a star playing off 30 years of his own image, both spoofing and honoring it.
Bridges is a certified star, but John Wayne was John Wayne; the only living actor with the iconic heft to match him in this sort of role is Clint Eastwood, who has already directed his own revisionist Western vehicles, going back at least as far as "Bronco Billy' and culminating in "Unforgiven." Bridges's star persona has a lot more to do with the Dude (from “The Big Lebowski,” his previous Coen film) than with his occasional Western roles (“Bad Company,” “Wild Bill,” “Heaven's Gate,” and, stretching the definition, “Rancho Deluxe”).
In many ways, the 1969 “True Grit” has dated; it's from the last gasp period of a certain type of Old Hollywood filmmaking. In addition to Wayne, it has the advantage of an Elmer Bernstein score, which is excellent except for its over-reliance on the bland title song, crooned by Glen Campbell (who also played LaBoeuf).
The Coens' version benefits from Roger Deakins' beautiful cinematography and a much snappier pace. (It's about 20 minutes shorter, losing a lot of utterly unnecessary meandering in the middle.) The Coens also have a better touch for comedy than Hathaway; as is their practice, they give each minor character an eccentric comic manner.
Outside of the plusses and minuses of Bridges vs. Wayne, the new cast mostly fares better. Damon is a huge improvement over Campbell, a pop star in his first big film role. Both Steinfeld and the original's Kim Darby are perfect, but, unlike Darby, Steinfeld is actually the right age. (I was going to argue that Bridges is too young, but, amazingly, he's only a year or two younger than Wayne was at the time.) The biggest surprise is that Barry Pepper is every bit as good as Robert Duvall, whose 1969 performance was great.
Most welcome of all, however, is the Coens' fidelity to the Portis book. The old version did away with the most downbeat aspect of the ending, while, strangely enough, making another element more downbeat. In nearly every story decision, Portis and the Coens trump the original.
This time around, Jeff Bridges takes on the role of Rooster Cogburn, the crotchety, drunken U.S. Marshal hired by ultra-plucky teenager Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld) to capture Tom Chaney (Josh Brolin), the varmint who murdered her father. Mattie is a mere 14, but she is smart and determined way beyond her years, insisting on accompanying Cogburn as he hunts Chaney and his gang's boss, Ned Pepper (Barry Pepper). Also attaching himself to the expedition is green Texas Ranger LaBoeuf (Matt Damon).
The original "Ladykillers," with Alec Guinness and Peter Sellers, may be a classic Ealing comedy, but it didn't come freighted with the kind of baggage “True Grit” carries. The 1969 version won John Wayne his only Best Actor Oscar; it was a perfect example of a star playing off 30 years of his own image, both spoofing and honoring it.
Bridges is a certified star, but John Wayne was John Wayne; the only living actor with the iconic heft to match him in this sort of role is Clint Eastwood, who has already directed his own revisionist Western vehicles, going back at least as far as "Bronco Billy' and culminating in "Unforgiven." Bridges's star persona has a lot more to do with the Dude (from “The Big Lebowski,” his previous Coen film) than with his occasional Western roles (“Bad Company,” “Wild Bill,” “Heaven's Gate,” and, stretching the definition, “Rancho Deluxe”).
In many ways, the 1969 “True Grit” has dated; it's from the last gasp period of a certain type of Old Hollywood filmmaking. In addition to Wayne, it has the advantage of an Elmer Bernstein score, which is excellent except for its over-reliance on the bland title song, crooned by Glen Campbell (who also played LaBoeuf).
The Coens' version benefits from Roger Deakins' beautiful cinematography and a much snappier pace. (It's about 20 minutes shorter, losing a lot of utterly unnecessary meandering in the middle.) The Coens also have a better touch for comedy than Hathaway; as is their practice, they give each minor character an eccentric comic manner.
Outside of the plusses and minuses of Bridges vs. Wayne, the new cast mostly fares better. Damon is a huge improvement over Campbell, a pop star in his first big film role. Both Steinfeld and the original's Kim Darby are perfect, but, unlike Darby, Steinfeld is actually the right age. (I was going to argue that Bridges is too young, but, amazingly, he's only a year or two younger than Wayne was at the time.) The biggest surprise is that Barry Pepper is every bit as good as Robert Duvall, whose 1969 performance was great.
Most welcome of all, however, is the Coens' fidelity to the Portis book. The old version did away with the most downbeat aspect of the ending, while, strangely enough, making another element more downbeat. In nearly every story decision, Portis and the Coens trump the original.
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