Walt Kowalski is a retired Ford worker. He's American - of Polish descent - and fought in the Korean War. Walt Kowalski is a veteran, a survivor.
Walt is a grumpy, racist type. The Korean War left him with more than one wound. He hates Asians, and he doesn't care if the "yellow face" in front of him is Korean or not. And it's precisely Asians that are his new neighbors, whom he regards with suspicion and disdain. They are Hmong, an ethnic group from the regions of southern China and Southeast Asia. There are quite a few of them in the States.
We're in the United States of America, then, and Walt's neighborhood is a tough one. Since his wife passed away, he's been living alone. Nor does he have a good relationship with his own family. His children are two jerks, admirers of Japanese cars (one is even a dealer in cars from the Land of the Rising Sun, much to the father's displeasure) and eager to get him into a "hospitable" nursing home as soon as possible. The granddaughter can't wait to see him locked up, or dead, to get her hands on his old car, a '72 Ford Torino.
The Ford Torino is a car produced by Ford in the '70s solely for the stars and stripes market. It's Starsky and Hutch's car, to give you an idea.
Walt owns a 1972 one. He boasts of having built it himself and holds onto that car perhaps more than anything else in the world.
Walt Kowalski is sick and leads a miserable life. He has no one in the world and spends his days drinking canned beer on the porch. He can't be moved by a young priest, a mere "twenty-seven-year-old who gets excited holding the hands of god-fearing old ladies, promising them eternity", who, motivated by good intentions and bound by a promise made to Walt's wife, tries to engage in dialogue with him. Walt makes sure to clarify things: to him, the priest is "Mr. Kowalski".
It will be the Ford Torino that somehow acts as a pretext, a conduit that will lead Walt to overcome his suspicions and redeem himself.
Kowalski realizes he has much more in common with his Asian neighbors than with his closest relatives. This is how a strong bond forms between Walt and the two young Hmong, Sue and Thao. It is especially with Thao, a troubled and somewhat "slow" boy, that Kowalski establishes a special, fatherly relationship. He will try in every way to snatch the two young people from the difficult reality to which they are destined.
"Gran Torino" is a dramatic film with strong ideological and didactic content. At times violent, if it's true that for much of the film I could only think of Paul Charles Bronson Kersey in his guise as a vigilante.
Kowalski is Clint Eastwood. In a "confession," complete with the inevitable beer, face to face with the priest, he discusses the meaning of life and death. He knows very little about the former, much about the latter. He has sinned, killed in Korea, and failed to create a relationship with his sons. It's partly his fault too. Thus, redemption becomes the main theme of the film.
Redemption that goes hand in hand with the theme of integration and acceptance and understanding of others, because the America where the events take place is a multiethnic, multiracial country. At times degraded, and where there is degradation, social contrast can only be stronger.
Eastwood is not afraid to break the plot, to let the narration almost stop to take different and unexpected turns each time, he has no interest in telling an essential story for its own sake. He wants to portray a slice of life in his country, of how it changes and the more things change, the more they stay the same, but now and then you can also retrace your steps and realize you were wrong. Even if you are old, alone, and have nothing to lose.
Old? I apologize. In fact, the good old Clint is in splendid form. Just look into his eyes and see him light up yet another cigarette to understand that he's still the same, that time passes, but he still has something to say. And often, to do so, he doesn't even need to open his mouth. Prepare three crates, Piripero.
Make that four.
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