I finish things. In Hollywood, there's following convention, defying convention, and
then there's Clint Eastwood, who created his own set of conventions,
and is now shredding them to pieces in the last decade of a career
spanning more than 50 years.
I'm required to say this whenever I
review an Eastwood film. That said, Gran Torino probably ranks in the
bottom half of Eastwood's past six or seven films, which is sort of
like saying Oprah isn't quite the richest woman in the world. And while
I've been tempted to conclude that his directorial outings fare better
without him in front of the camera, this film is Exhibit A in the case
to prove me wrong.
