Eastwood, now and Hereafter

re: note 1 -- I was going to leave you a comment asking if you liked "Quiz Show," but looked it up first, and learned that it was directed by Robert Redford. So, uh, presented without interpretation.

Watching the trailer, I felt very underwhelmed by what was being presented to me. Yes, I understand the trailer isn't an indicator of a film's quality, but it felt like a re-hash of "Babel"'s narrative structure combined with the typical tropes of a is-there-or-isn't-there-an-afterlife production: the disillusioned medium; the senseless, tragic loss of a close relative (to a car accident -- to further accentuate how senseless it is); the near-death experience. The trailer actually seemed to be straining to make something engaging out of the material: one part in mind is when one of the twins hangs up a phone and then runs off screen. It just felt like a stretch.

I haven't seen any of Eastwood's films save "Gran Torino" (which I also felt was underwhelming), and I don't necessarily care to see any of them either (except "Unforgiven", from all I've heard about it). I don't know what Eastwood is doing with any of them, if he even is doing anything with them outside of what's needed as a competent director.

I'm surprised by your lack of understanding of his movies. There are common threads: family neglect (bad parents, or bad sons and daughters), the importance of honor and doing the right thing... In many films he offers role models, often in an "I don't want to do this but I must do it" way. In "Gran Torino" he's teaching a kid how to be a man, in "Invictus" it's all about reconciliation by example (Mandela hires white bodyguards)...

There are recurring themes in his films which we can assume he personally cares about: "Mystic River" and "Changeling" are about protecting our children, "True Crime" and "Absolute Power" seem to be regular thrillers but are thinly disguised attacks against what he sees as flaws in the system, "Blood Work" and "Gran Torino" show a former tough guy (played by Eastwood in both cases) facing the decay of old age... How can you say he's not a personal filmmaker? Should he film the same movie again and again? (Though in a way he's doing it... I find just funny how he always uses the same -inappropriate- music over and over.)

I don't know if it has or hasn't, but it got me to thinking: I'm not sure I could identify a Clint Eastwood movie on sight. Is there an identifiable Eastwood directorial vision, apart from a certain willfully "classical" gloss applied to a professional reserve that sometimes borders on indifference? Is he like a William Wyler or a Robert Wise, a journeyman whose sensibility is identifiable primarily through the combined talents of his collaborators? Who is Clint Eastwood, the director?

This and your footnote show some strong preconceived notions. One is that the 'auteur' stuff is true, and that if a director isn't easily identifiable by the style of his films, something is wrong with him somehow, or he's less of an artist than the identifiable by style director. You want to know what the director's vision is? It's what you see on the screen. Movie to movie. Choice of material is one thing that can help reveal it, but it's still in most cases merely a choice of someone else's material. What is Orson Welles's vision? I like Welles but all his so-called vision consists of is a few stylistic eccentricities and a pet preoccupation or two. That seems rather shallow for a vision, doesn't it?

Ultimately any filmmaker who wants to express a meaningful, complete vision, would have to both write and direct his own stuff. All of it. Like Woody Allen. Otherwise it's always a fully collaborative effort, no matter how distinct you find a particular director's 'vision' to be. Saying Hitch, for instance, had a particular vision, is little better than saying someone who makes mix tapes (CDs, now) that are all of a certain identifiable style is expressing a certain vision. Few of the auteurs write the source material, few write the adaptations, and none (save, again, Allen) act in their films.

By the way - bland old non-artist William Wyler, that workmanlike bore whose films you wouldn't be able to identify as Wyler films without having IMDb handy, directed one of the best films I've ever seen - a practically forgotten movie from 1936 called Dodsworth. And maybe that's the point. Directors like these are just going out there swinging every time, trying to make the best movies they can. Perhaps they're more concerned with making good movies, that please viewers, critics, and studios, than they are with merely expressing themselves and sharing their sublime 'visions'. Perhaps they're good enough and professional enough to recognize that theirs is a collaborative art, in which there are many artists involved, but just as many craftsmen. And perhaps they think of themselves as among the latter. And guess what, there's nothing wrong with that. So quit being a snob.

"Hereafter" is about an empath: Eastwood. He has the ability to look into a script and find whatever's honest or human about it. In this case, there's not much there (Morgan's script is thoughtful but shallow, imho), but it gives Eastwood a lot of leeway to play around with the mood. It's certainly very somber, but there is an honest, searching quality to it that I think is intermittently relatable. A lot of the time we're just looking into someone's face, open to suggestion, full of questions. Sure, the twins are obviously only there for their symbolic value (the living one always recalls the dead one), but you were never a little touched by their story? Even when one of the psychics tells the boy in all seriousness to look for his lost brother in the mirror? Eastwood will rarely distract you with any big ideas or artistic flourishes; he presents you with something, and either you accept it (buy it?) or you don't, but it's almost always grounded in a relatable human reality.

I think I could tell an Eastwood movie in about five minutes: contrast between light and shadow, patience with actors, stylized camera movements that are supposed to move the scene along rather than communicate anything specific, transitions between intimate closeups and breezy medium/wide shots. His main idea is that we try to assert our will on the world around us, but he's never trying to tell us anything, he's just trying to tell his story, or whatever he finds interesting about it, and maybe we'll see what he sees. "Gran Torino" might've been a mess on paper (I have no idea what the writer was thinking) but it comes off, onscreen, an honest account of a man, and a way of thinking, best left behind. I never have much trouble identifying Eastwood's point of view. It's all there onscreen. Maybe you're overcomplicating things?

"Hereafter" isn't one of his best movies because it's mostly mood, not supported by story or character. I think a better movie by an older director dealing with death and psychics (this year) is "You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger," because there's more balance to the material, it's shorter, and because it's funnier, you feel that it's more worthwhile. I could understand some people wishing for death if their life was as somber as this particular Eastwood movie (I felt the same way about "Letters," to be honest). But that's intentional, part of the tension. It's just that my favourite thing about Eastwood is his vitality, which "Herefater" doesn't underline, except for that opener (surprised no complaints about the CGI, by the way).

What do you think of "White Hunter Black Heart"? My personal favourite Eastwood movie, an unsentimental, myth-destroying Hollywood movie and no-nonsense depiction of a respected artist. He gives you the good and the bad (light and shadow?). And Eastwood does a much better Huston than Daniel Day-Lewis.

In my ongoing adventures to connect everything with everything, here is a statement similar to your first paragraphs about the state of entertainment and "conservatism."

http://johnkstuff.blogspot.com/2009/04/age-of-extreme-conservatism-pt-2.html

What do you (or anyone) think?

I think the appreciation for Eastwood you say eludes you, Jim (and I admit it eludes me too) has something to do with his adherence and/or use of formula. Because it eludes me I can't really comment further, but I have a suspicion that some people look at these films, with their somewhat heavy-handed, movie-ish dialog, tried-and-true plot formulas and a classic Hollywood absence of aesthetics and they see a purist. Though all of those qualities (or detriments, depending on the view) make up an aesthetic in and of themselves.

Very well said, Jim. I'm kinda with you on Eastwood's direction and to be honest with you, I think I want to like his films more than I do because I like him so much (seems like someone you could enjoy having a great conversation with). It's hard for me to separate the art from the icon, I suppose, which is not fair but it is what it is.

Now...time for a Soderbergh overview, Jim. His films, imho, being of the really good/great to ehh/wretched variety. What do you think?

I have a hard time pinning down Eastwood's directorial personality. Maybe because, as of late, he doesn't have as much of a distinct vision as he does a simple management of the production, as you mentioned hearing from other directors. It seems that a lot of the time (at least in this particular film) Eastwood is directing like a producer: concerned with audience comfort and easy routes to emotional satisfaction.

I saw Hereafter last night, and while many people are praising it for its gentle observation of the effect of needing to know what waits for us afterwards, I think that the story arcs and landings are paved with such a predetermined efficiency that you begin to notice the heavy manipulation tactics. He and Morgan appear to be doing everything in their power to ensure the audience gets gratifying emotional nourishment. Characters in the film are sketchy but given all the familiar audience tugging tropes. The narrative structure is essentially a criss crossing travelogue of pain and suffering (Ex. Crash and Babel)that will converge eventually. I also noticed the framing of the accident scene with the twin boy, hovering crane shot, and little done to distinguish the scene other then to reengage our memory of scenes in other films meant to pull the same reaction from us.

The Tsunami sequence also bothered me because, while it's true there were impressive visual effects at work, it looked like a sequence that belonged in a big budget disaster film instead of a supernatural drama. Was Eastwood calculating commercial prospects when designing the scene? Looking for t.v. spot hooks? Was it necessary to exploit a very real and upsetting event still fresh in people's minds for the sake of essentially giving a main character the entrance to her segment and showcasing "cool" looking effects work? (such as Remember Me did a few months ago with 9/11) I don't believe so.

All in all, looking at Eastwood's recent films (Invictus, Gran Torino, Hereafter, Million Dollar Baby) it seems to me that he has been on autopilot, trying to wring out his audience with the simplest and easiest methods available. His heart has not been in it. I believe if he settles down for a few years, and actually devotes some time to finding a script not molding with cliches, and attempts to coordinate it some fresh cinematic ideas, instead of the passive and uninterested tone he's been giving off lately, we may just see another Letters to Iwo Jima..

I said it about "Gran Torino" and I have to say it again here: One of the worst movies of the year and certainly one of the worst I've seen in several years.

And what upsets me is when I come home and see that several critics I admire, including Ebert, give this movie a pass or go beyond and call it "a great film."

Jim, you mentioned the deluge of cliches that came at you like the insultingly unnecessary tsunami that opened what was a ridiculously unnecessary film, and for all those hackneyed moments I sat in shock at how a good screenwriter like Peter Morgan could have thought these were original or deep ideas.

For "Hereafter" to take 2 and 1/2 hours to deliver a meditation on death that was as superficial and trite as it was upsets me more than sitting through a couple hours of incomprehensible plots like "The A Team." As my mother said after she saw "Hereafter": "'Five People You Meet in Heaven' was more deep than that."

I do sound indignant however, and the truth is that I laughed through a lot of it. And not in a snobbish, inconsiderate way, but genuine laughter that occupies my mind when watching a movie that takes itself too seriously. I could go on and on listing the cliches (I knew he was going to get hit by a car as soon as he walked out of the house), but it's Eastwood's weakness for irrelevancy that is more wondering to me. (Spoiler alert) Why did they kiss at the end? What events that led up to that moment invested any reason as to why they would fall in love? Or even connect?

I sat at work wondering how the film could have been more interesting. I thought: What if Damon's character was a phony psychic like a John Edward type that is living a post televised fame. It could have been a meditation on how a director, making films past what was once greatness, continues to deliver ostensibly meaningful products and the few followers that still believe in his greatness kneel at his feet, praising his talents and force themselves to find confirmation in their belief.

What does it all mean? The film boiled, or I should say simmered, down to what we all know to be true: "We're all looking for answers."

Ugh, please, I'll put myself in the hereafter.

Beats me if Eastwood will be remembered as an auteur, but you know how he composes the music for all of his movies? That gives me the impression that he's TRYING to be remembered as one. Though he doesn't write the screenplays for his movies, I think that, like Robert Rodriguez, he makes himself into a one-man-band of sorts in hopes that future generations will validate him as a great filmmaker.

I love many of Eastwood's movies, but if I hesitate to mention him as one of my contemporary favorites it may be because I still prefer him as an actor. With the exception of Welles (and, I guess Chaplin), I can't think of very many actor/directors who didn't direct themselves in movies just to enhance their own image--which I sort of think Eastwood did with The Bridges of Madison County and Gran Torino. And the fact that he also sometimes subcumbs to Hollywood product and could make something as AWFUL as Space Cowboys proves that he doesn't always take art very seriously. But there's also the argument that he's just doing what John Huston used to do: balance the greater films in his career with shrugged-off assignments. And Huston sometimes directed himself, too.

I mean, I'm with you on Unforgiven. It's a masterpiece. And he directed himself in that--but maybe the reason why his recent output doesn't amaze me as much, visually, is because of his choice of cinematography. In all of his 21st century films he's hired Tom Stern as his cinematographer, and for some reason Stern loves to go for those blue/white/black shades that, yes, Christopher Nolan and Wally Pfister love to use. I HATE this kind of cinematography. It's a cheap way to win Oscars.

But with the exception of Space Coyboys, I've enjoyed most of what I've seen from Eastwood's recent output. I liked Blood Work. I liked Million Dollar Baby (the fact that both Ebert and Rosenbaum thought it was the year's best film certainly says something about it as a powerfull film--minus the occasional flaws in Haggis' script). I thought Letters from Iwo Jima was his best since Unforgiven. And hey, I even like Hereafter. Your review here has toned down the initial love I had for it when I saw it on Saturday night; you're right, after all, that Morgan's screenplay doesn't have much of a center. But I got too involved to think too rationally. Again, there's that argument that Eastwood is sort of a modern Huston. I don't quite agree with that argument, but there's no good reason why I shouldn't. It's a valid one.

Why does Mystic River get so much of a backlash these days? I don't think it's a masterpiece, exactly, but how come it gets so much post-Academy hate? Nobody I know who dislikes Mystic River has ever been able to explain to me what it is about the movie they detest. Also, why do people dislike Dennis Lehane? Not that I think he's a great writer of prose, but he *does* tell pretty good stories at least (and I think it's absurd for people to say that Scorsese's Shutter Island turned gold out of the work of an inferior author--the movie was made precisely because of the way Lehane told that story in his book). So, again, what's wrong with Mystic River and Eastwood/Lehane/Brian Helgeland, etc.? Sorry for the sudden rant, I just had to get that off my chest, see.

Eastwood is definitely best as an actor and director when he's in Lord Byron mode, and Matt Damon doesn't have too many Byronic qualities. It makes me wonder how different the movie would have been had Eastwood played George.

If Eastwood spent his life working at a factory rather than Hollywood, he'd probably be spending his days building birdhouses and rocking chairs in his basement to keep himself busy. But, because of who he is, and where he comes from, he builds films instead. I don't think it's all that mysterious.

For me, two things define an Eastwood film for the past 15 years or so:

1. Plink-plink music by Eastwood on the piano. This was done beautifully in Unforgiven. I guess it worked so well then he hasn't seen the need to change it.
His son, Kyle has a similar style, but tends to use more instruments. Personally I wish they'd change the record.

2. Many of them, post-Unforgiven (and even including Unforgiven) can be seen as a kind of cry from the heart from Clint to his children...
Million Dollar Baby: "I wasn't there, but I had to do it anyways."
Flags of Our Fathers: The tacked-on ending was more hokey than that in Schindler's List (although I liked the rest of it very much).
Gran Torino: "I messed up with my kids, but maybe the grandkids won't be so hard on me when they see me do *this* instead."
I had to turn off Changeling -mainly because I found Angelina's lips too distracting in a period movie. And I can't remember much detail about Mystic River other than Sean Penn's oscar emotion face.
But I do seem to recall at least part of both involving a parent seeking forgiveness from (even more than justice/retribution on behalf of) their children.

I've considered watching each again (and the rest) to better expand on this theory, but frankly I'd rather spend that time re-watching Unforgiven.

I'm not afraid to bash Clint Eastwood, even though I liked Hereafter. I consider it more the product of an excellent script by Peter Morgan and some very good performances by the cast (let’s be fair, Eastwood does let his actors get on with it).

Remember, Peter Morgan delivered the script of Frost/Nixon to another overrated director who is merely competent and that film turned out fine. It's saying something when even Ron Howard can't ruin your script. Look at all the others he has.

In preparation for an article on Clint Eastwood the overrated director, I've recently looked at some of his earlier directorial efforts from the 1970's like Play Misty For Me and The Eiger Sanction (among others) and I don't really see ANY growth in style, pacing, structure or choice of material. Eastwood is not a bad director, but he's not an especially good one.

So, while Unforgiven is well made, it’s important to remember that Eastwood's usual caliber of work means films like Absolute Power, Flags Of Our Fathers, Changeling, Blood Work, Gran Torino, Heartbreak Ridge, Firefox, Bronco Billy, Honkytonk Man, Space Cowboys, True Crime, The Bridges Of Madison County to name but a few.

And I include Letters From Iwo Jima, Bird, Million Dollar Baby and White Hunter, Black Heart on this list of mediocrities as well.

And how could ANYONE screw up the book Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evil, especially when you have John Cusack, Kevin Spacey and Jude Law in the cast?

John Huston said in Chinatown something like (I'm paraphrasing), "politicians, old whores and ugly buildings all get respect if they last long enough".

That, more than anything else explains Eastwood's relatively recent critical hosannas. He's lasted. He's popular. He's well liked by the public and in Hollywood, he plays the game and he's made bazillions of dollars for lots and lots of people for decades.

What do you think Hollywood is going to do? NOT honor him?

My favorite Eastwood film, (except for the parts Eastwood is in) is A Perfect World. And there are many others I like. That said however, the fact that Eastwood often stars in his films is why so many of them are big box office draws, and why he continues to get the opportunity to direct.

Hollywood will let anyone direct who makes them oodles of money. If Hitler had made Avatar, even with that whole Holocaust thing on his resume, he would be forgiven and pushed into Avatar 2: Blue Cats With Hypertelorism, or whatever it may be titled.

One other point, I see you described Hereafter as a "network narrative" and used Crash and Babel as examples. Isn't the growing term accepted by critics for these kind of pajumbled narratives shaking out to be "hyperlink films".

As a film lecturer at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, I want to do a lecture on this (sort of) new genre and I want to be sure I have the name right. I like network narrative, but hyperlink film really does describe a film like Run Lola Run or Pulp Fiction.

I too have sometimes felt that Eastwood doesn't really have a strong authorial voice. He seems (almost perversely) proud of the fact that he follows screenplays to the letter, and never seems to develop his own stories. I don't see him as having an overarching aesthetic, or personal stamp, that he puts on his work... it's more that he finds stories that he enjoys and tries to tell them as best as he can. As a result, the quality of his work as director is heavily reliant on the quality of the screenplays he chooses (as opposed to filmmakers who change/improve/reinterpret their source), and his choices are sometimes spotty.

Yet, when he gets a strong screenplay, he can knock it out of the park. His style can, at best, feel unadorned and almost relaxed. Sounds like that translated to tedium in Hereafter (haven't seen it yet), but it adds a lot to films like Unforgiven, Gran Torino, Blood Work, White Hunter Black Heart, Play Misty For Me. Even when working with amped up genre movie material, his unhurried style gives me a chance to wade into and enjoy the subtext, performances, cinematography, etc.

If there's been common theme in many of his films (at least, the one's he has directed AND starred in), it's been a self-awareness and commentary on his screen persona. It's true of the films I listed above, especially Gran Torino, which struck me, in addition to being a surprisingly funny comedy, as being a shrewd deconstruction of his Dirty Harry persona and some of the buried social and racial themes in those films.

I'm not really looking forward to Hereafter, and your comments here don't give me much hope, but I'll probably give Eastwood the benefit of the doubt and at least catch up with in on home video.

I dunno, maybe there's something to be said for somebody who deliberately avoids putting a personal signature on a work of art, even if that's not really the approach or the aesthetic that I prefer, not by a long shot.

There seem to be very few directors that offer a truly unique and distinct vision when they make a film. Directors like Christopher Nolan and Clint Eastwood are generally proficient and capable, reliably making "good" movies, but I never get the sense that their movies couldn't have been directed by nearly anyone else and had similar if not identical results. Perhaps this is a symptom of what Herzog decried as a lack of new imagery; it's nigh impossible to offer a personal film when you're merely treading through the familiar because there's never any revelation, never any insight, merely what is expected and already known.

Somehow Eastwood has won the title of auteur, or some kind of artistic genius who presents controversial material to wide-ranging audiences.

But, like you, Jim, I find Eastwood to be uneven, at best, and at worst, boring. In the past decade (I admit, I haven't seen all his films of the last 10 years (notably two I want to see, Flags and Letter)), I have seen Eastwood produce scenes that are simply brilliant. The Lady Macbeth scene of Mystic River, for example, or the Jay Baruchel scenes of Million Dollar Baby stand out. But too often, what Eastwood starts as a film about compelling subject matter eventually turn schmaltzy and lazy. His movies are consistently good enough, but never do I feel they are the masterpieces they are often hailed.

The Changeling was good. But not particularly inspired. And it's visual style was simply atrocious. Gran Torino made, in my opinion, the exact opposite commentary on racism in the US that it (hopefully) intended. I couldn't even get myself to see Invictus, which looked trite and uninspired. (that was what we got from Morgan Freeman finally playing Mandela?). Hereafter looks awful. Sappy, conventional, bland. Of course, I have not seen it. Maybe its brilliant.

For my money, one has to go all the way back to Perfect World to get a truly compelling Eastwood film.

I haven't kept up with recent Eastwood movies but I think he's a storyteller. Which in my book is a good thing. No ideology, no philosophy, no social or psychological theories, no attempt to wrap the world up in some crappy intellectual system. Just the world as it strikes him at any given moment. Loose, vague, inconsistent and not particularly pretty.

The fact that an Eastwood worldview can't be pinned down should be considered as a practical response to a world that doesn't make much sense to us. The best any of us can do is search for meaning, with little hope of finding it. It's the search that's interesting; those who claim to have arrived are just bores. If you want 'blinding insight' or a 'brilliant coherent vision', check out some gurus. There are lots of them out there offering you just that. Some of them even offer very cheap rates.

Having said that, I'm not a believer in the hereafter, and generally despise those who claim to be psychics, so I won't be rushing out to see Eastwood's latest movie. I just don't think that's a subject that could result in a worthwhile movie. As they say in computer science, garbage in garbage out.

Re your other comments, I've come to dislike the word masterpiece. Film critics dispense the term with as much abandon as if it was confetti but I have to confess I find the movie Unforgiven a little bit special so I couldn't quibble with your description of it as a masterpiece. One really great movie is more than most directors can manage, so well done Mr Eastwood.

Thank you so much for this post, because I'm proud to say that I can offer you what you wanted to know!

I have a friend, a newly minted film professor (with PhD) in Chicago, who has a very idiosyncratic taste in movies, swears allegiance to only three of today's Hollywood directors: Clint Eastwood, M. Night Shyamalan, and Michael Mann. He is a staunch formalist and auteurist. I wish that he could be here to discuss/debate this topic in detail with you, because he once told me that he always found something valuable and interesting in all of Eastwood's movies, even the weak ones. For example, he absolutely loved the widely-panned Changeling because he interpreted it as a metatextual meditation on revenge narratives/fantasies in classical Hollywood cinema. As evidence, consider the many shots that are blatantly composed with frames, i.e., doorways, windows, etc. He also mentioned that the movie makes a point of stating that Christine's son was on his way to the movies when he was kidnapped.

After seeing Gran Torino, and with the above interpretation of Changeling in mind, I was able to form a coherent interpretation of Eastwood's entire body of directorial work. I presented it to my friend, and he liked it very much, so in his absence, I will do my best to make the case that Eastwood is indeed an auteur and one of Hollywood's most distinctive at that. Eastwood is best understood as a director who is always trying to explore and complicate his image as a Hollywood icon. No other director does this, partly because very few have reached and indefinitely maintained a similar level of stardom before succeeding in a prolific and well-regarded directing career. The only other one that immediately comes to mind is Mel Gibson, who might be viewed as the anti-Eastwood. Ron Howard bears mentioning, but honestly people don't remember him so much for his roles, and his recognition as director has long overshadowed his place in popular culture as an actor.

Perhaps the closest comparison/parallel is Steven Spielberg, who has spent the last two decades (and more) obviously, deliberately, and self-admittedly making adult dramas that are a sharp contrast to, almost as if in repudiation of, the inner-child-friendly spectacles that defined his earlier work in the popular imagination. But unlike Eastwood, Spielberg's concern is, more than anything, about a very public struggle with maturity (in which case, Hook might be his most revealingly personal piece yet, otherwise it might be A.I.) and a need to be taken seriously as an artist, to be accepted as a Great Director™. (By all accounts, he made The Color Purple specifically to win Oscars.)

Arguably Spielberg's biggest achievement, besides inventing the summer blockbuster and thereby paving his way to becoming a mogul, was to make himself into a household name, which allowed directors other than Hitchcock to become real selling points to the masses. (Consider Shyamalan, whom Time Magazine once declared "the next Spielberg." He has indeed considered Spielberg an idol and insists on loudly branding his name on everything that he touches. No one else does it to the extent that he does.) Yet even today, no director has as much popular recognition as a star; most people still go to the movies to see their favorite actors, or to see adaptations of their favorite works from other media. Directors are just relegated to secondary appeal.

The fact that the cashier made a point of mentioning that Eastwood doesn't act in Hereafter is revealing. No one expects Ron Howard to act in any of his movies. And even before his public image collapsed, no one was under the impression that Mel Gibson might be spotted in his movies, post-Braveheart. How about Shyamalan? He gives himself more or less prominent roles in most of his movies, but nobody cares.

My point is that Eastwood is still recognized as much, and probably more, as an actor than as a director among the public, even as he has directed in more productions than he's acted, in the last decade. That's not his fault, of course. Instead, I posit that he's always been keenly aware of his public image and the fact his reputation as a director has always played second fiddle to his inescapable reputation as a star. And let's face it: He's always been seen as an actor of limited range, such that, with little exception, his roles are generally classic Clint Eastwood™ roles, even when he directs himself. Thus, his movies are all about giving the public a more nuanced understanding of himself, beyond what made him such an iconic star.

Eastwood's early directorial efforts can be seen as reworkings of the kinds of movies that originally made his name. The Outlaw Josey Wales could be considered an early example of story that added nuance to his original screen persona: Eastwood's gunslinger roles were all solitary figures, but as Josey Wales, he finds himself with an increasingly large band of companions, even though he prefers to remain alone. His grudging acceptance of these new followers and friends is one of his defining and most memorable character traits.

Paint Your Wagon is worth mentioning briefly because even though Eastwood did not direct it, it helps illustrate what the public expected from him: In the Simpsons episode, "All Singing, All Dancing," Homer rents a copy of it, hoping for a violent, action-filled, good time. Homer is shocked, as people tend to be today, to discover that it's a musical. Noteworthy is the fact that, in the episode, Eastwood's character is shown to wear the serape that he wore in The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly but did not wear in the actual Paint Your Wagon movie.

Eastwood's early ouvre also included particularly idiosyncratic works like Play Misty for Me (his directorial debut), which concerns an obsessed female fan of the protagonist (played by Eastwood), interestingly enough; Breezy, something of a precursor to The Bridges of Madison County and (prophetically?) featuring a May-December romance; Honkytonk Man, starring Eastwood as aspiring Western singer (remember Paint Your Wagon?); Bird, a biopic about Charlie Parker and clearly Eastwood's public profession of his love of jazz and African Americans; White Hunter Black Heart, in which Eastwood plays a Hollywood Golden Age director, based on John Huston, who goes to Africa to helm a production but instead becomes obsessed with hunting elephants. Also notable is Bronco Billy, which sees Eastwood playing a fake cowboy, of all things.

Critics seem to consider Unforgiven to be a dividing line or milestone of sorts, probably because it remains his most highly regarded movie. But in many ways it was also the first culmination and critical examination of his own iconography, neatly suggesting the beginning of his latter-day career. Eastwood portrays a long-retired but legendary gunslinger who is drawn out of hiding for one last job, to avenge a prostitute who was mutilated. While several of his movies up to then had made his age a prominent aspect of the characters that he played, what was distinctive about Unforgiven was that he was an old man who had grown sick and tired of the violence with which he was closely associated and which thrilled his followers and fans. This is apt description of not only the protagonist, William Munny, but also Eastwood himself, and Unforgiven is widely considered to be an important statement of anti-violence.

Absolute Power and True Crime are interesting mirror examples of Eastwood exploring different sides of the law: Rather than the cop and vigilante roles in which he was typecast, the former sees Eastwood as a thief, while the latter shows Eastwood as journalist fighting for the life of a death row inmate. Blood Work was his return to the role of lawman, but this time his character was struggling against his failing heart. Mystic River is a meditation on crime, violence, and justice from a more common man perspective, apart from law enforcement. Space Cowboys is one more example of a story that foregrounds Eastwood's age, as he becomes part of a team of old men who save the world, but the most interesting and ironic aspect of it (besides having the word "cowboys" in the title) is the obvious interplay between the baggage of the past (represented by old Soviet satellite and the Cold War nukes) and visions of the future (represented by the space setting, which has always signified forward-thinking).

Like many Hollywood actors, but unlike the vast majority of Hollywood directors, Eastwood has been rather outspoken and active about his politics. He is known to be a conservative, but of the libertarian sort. He briefly served as mayor of a small town, has made statements about Hillary Clinton, endorsed John McCain, and supported President Obama and deposed governor Gray Davis. He publicly criticized Michael Moore. He has also taken stands on hot-button issues, and this why I'm mentioning all of this: Eastwood has always been anti-war, even when he's supported various Republican politicians. This is would seem incongruous for a man whom people would expect to be classically conservative, seeing that he's a white elderly male, a red-blooded American symbol, a man's man. He's the grittier version of what John Wayne represented. (Wayne was also much less conservative than his image suggested.)

Thus, his politics strongly illuminate his World War II companion pieces of Flags of Our Fathers and Letters from Iwo Jima, which both attempt to overtly undermine and complicate the two-sided mythology of one of the most iconic battles of the war. Unsurprisingly, these movies not only provide a rare platform for Eastwood to express his political views, but also reinforce his demystification tendencies as I've argued all along. But anti-war statements are not the only political expressions in which Eastwood has indulged. As Bird, White Hunter Black Heart, and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil subtly suggested, he has also been concerned with civil and human rights issues. This helps explain both Gran Torino and Invictus, but more interesting to me is his attitude toward women, both in his private life and in his work.

Eastwood has long been known as a notorious and prolific womanizer and proud of it. In addition to the many affairs and flings that he's had with woman both famous and unknown, which have produced numerous children (some of whom were aborted), he has been involved with far younger women since the late '80s, including Frances Fisher and Dina Ruiz, who is just over half his age. Eastwood married Ruiz in 1996 and had a daughter that year. These details no doubt raise eyebrows. While his movies are heavily male-oriented, he does not generally portray women the way that one would expect from a "serial womanizer." Thus, particularly worth considering are his latter-day movies The Bridges of Madison County, Million Dollar Baby, and Changeling.

Bridges was only the second "chick flick" that he directed, and it shows Eastwood not as tough guy, but as a soulful and tender romantic, a photographer rather than champion of justice. Nonetheless, his character manages to make a married woman (the protagonist) fall in love and almost run away with him. What this might reflect about Eastwood's opinion and image of himself, I will not speculate here. Needsless to say, it's yet another intriguing twist on his public persona. Million Dollar Baby is not simply a boxing movie; it's a female boxing movie. Sure, the female isn't the true protagonist, but it displays an aged Eastwood character relating to a strong woman who is neither the object of romantic nor sexual pursuit. Eastwood has stated that his marriage to Dina Ruiz has brought a stronger and tighter sense of family to his life and implicitly ended his womanizing ways. Changeling sees Eastwood in full-on feminist mode, a would-be repudiation of 50 years of almost unrelenting testosterone-driven work both in front of and behind the camera.

As I mentioned at the beginning, Gran Torino is the movie that inspired me to look at Eastwood's career in the way that I've explained. It's all there, really, all of the major themes in his work, from issues of race and a portrayal of a strong female, to the anti-violence and self-conscious critique of his screen persona. (Also worth mentioning is the fact that Eastwood rarely concerns himself with particularly bourgeois narratives, and Gran Torino is no different. By contrast, most other Hollywood directors have the bourgeois as their default mode.) It's a movie that's not only a spiritual successor to Unforgiven, but also a movie that no one else could've made. I would thus argue that it is the quintessential Eastwood movie, even if it might be far from the best.

Hereafter is a movie whose thematic and formal relationship with the rest of Eastwood's filmography and life will be endlessly debated, because it seems particularly out of character. The simplistic interpretation is that he's exploring his own concerns about mortality, now that he's nearing the end of his years. Indeed, it is too simplistic and generic to be satisfying, so I won't dwell on it, or any other such interpretations any further. Instead, I want to share what I noticed as I was watching mindfully, trying to see what interesting aspects that this disappointingly weak movie might offer, as my friend would certainly suggest. My take is that it's all about perspectives.

Remember the opening scenes. After getting out of bed in the morning, Marie walks out of hotel to buy some souvenirs from street merchants. As she approaches and then chats with a young girl, the camera jumps quickly between nearly ten different angles, which seems totally unnecessary. This technique is not repeated in any other scenes. When the tsunami hits carries Marie away, the camera stays tightly focused on her, with her head in the center of the frame. The viewer thus gets a strong sense of the perspective of the victim herself. We really feel like we're being swept downstream, as she is. The other thing that I noticed is that all (or almost all) of the entire movie is shot with one or more wide-angle lens(es), which distort straight lines at the edges of the frame, create a greater sense of depth, and causes more of the image to appear in sharp or (only slight fuzzy) focus. There is no shot that I can recall that can definitely be attributed to a longer lens. This is certainly an unusual cinematographic choice, and it reminds me of A History of Violence, which Cronenberg has stated was shot almost exclusively with a single 27mm wide-angle lens, a conscious choice intended to reinforce his themes. And of course, at the narrative level, Hereafter is about three different perspectives on death from the characters who are living.

Do I have a more coherent, insightful interpretation of the movie? No, and I frankly don't care to think about it any further. But what I'm saying is that even in seemingly generic or detached efforts like this, Eastwood does still manage to convey something, so that it's not totally anonymous. The charge that his direction lacks a distinctive style is all too easy and simplistic. "Understated" and "restrained" may not be the best words to describe it, although they are accurate. A better word is "classical," and that Eastwood has stated that he strives for classical, "traditional" filmmaking. In the 2004 Oscar campaign for Mystic River, he emphasized idea that its "only special effect" was the power of its actors, a clear swipe agaist The Return of the King.

This helps explain his famously non-intrusive approach: He expects actors to know their parts thoroughly and only captures one or two takes per set-up; he rarely asks for script rewrites; production values are unfussy and not flashy; cinematography is austere. The detachment that you sense is not because he doesn't care about what he's making or how he's making it; it's not because he's on "auto-pilot." An alernative view is that it's a carefully-calculated, carefully-modulated attempt to return to the "invisible" filmmaking of Golden Age Hollywood. Note that all of Eastwood's recent movies feature a classy, silver rendition of the Warner Bros. logo; I don't know of its use on any other director's movies. Its appearance before the opening frames set a certain mood, seem to suggest that a grandfatherly figure (such as Eastwood himself) is getting ready to tell a story from the good ol' days. It's almost as if he's adopted his own version of the Dogme95 spirit, but going in a very different direction.

And hey, no one else gives EVERYTHING such a grim, desaturated look these days.

I felt "Hereafter" was a very calm movie, I feel that about a lot of Eastwood's films, which is why I like going to them. I like that the film remains straight forward, Eastwood simply cuts from George's story, to Marie's, to the boy's until they ultimately intersect. There isn't anything fancy to any of this, ulike "Babel" which I think stressed the coincidence factor far too much.

After watching "Hereafter", I felt the urge to watch "Million Dollar Baby", which I like very much. It was the first time I watched it in years, and I found the same sombre tone to that as well. Again I found it a calm film that doesn't seem to be in any hurry to get to its destination, I liked hanging out with the characters and the growing relationship between Eastwood and Hilary Swank. I remember what A.O. Scott said about "Million Dollar Baby" and Eastwood's direction saying "It was like a jazz muscician playing an old standard." That makes sense to me when I watch an Eastwood film, he's a cover artist, and he's able to make good copies of old standards.

I think Eastwood has directed quite a few masterpieces, although in each case they are films he also starred in ("Unforgiven," "Gran Torino," "The Outlaw Josey Wales"), so I do think his best work is when he directs himself as an actor. But other than a couple that I consider duds ("Firefox," "Space Cowboys"), his films are usually impressive. He also tends to get great work from his actors. I don't think Kevin Costner has ever been as impressive as he was in "A Perfect World." However, as much as I admire Eastwood's films, I think the fact that he's CLINT EASTWOOD, iconic screen legend, as well as a producer/director, places him in a very unique place among filmmakers. Back in the '70s, I believe he was the only star who had the right to veto studio decisions. That is, if Warner Bros. said no to a project, he could overrule them. And even when he wasn't the director or the credited producer, everyone was working for his company, Malpaso. With that much power, I think he would have to be considered the auteur even of the films he did not direct. Therefore, to grasp his vision, I think you have to look at his entire body of work.

Dear Mr Eastwood. Please could your next film be a western. An actual western. With horses, dust, and guns, and really pissed off people driven against all the odds to do the decent thing in a sort of morally ambiguous way. I guess what I'm saying is, much as you look like you're going to carry on forever, I'd really hate your last film to be some daft old hotchpotch or star vehicle which noone really likes or dislikes, but rather is just a bit bored by. You like westerns and you're good at them, so please, go on, just one more.

Thank you for writing about A Perfect World (a movie other contributors here have overlooked). When I think about the bare bones of the plot of this movie, it becomes clear to me that Eastwood is simply, first and foremost, a storyteller.

In this he differs from tools hired by producers to masquerade as directors, and from ego-driven auteurs more interested in showing off their own personal vision and technique.

Who in the world could imagine a "big" director making a movie about a little boy from a Jehovah's Witness family who is kidnapped by an escaped convict? And yet, this movie works magnificently, because all Eastwood is interested in, apparently, is telling a story.

And what are the stories about? I think the best stories he's chosen to tell involve characters who are shades of gray, stuck in the tragedy of a world that prefers black and white. But all this refers, mainly, to what the screenwriter has placed on paper. Eastwood apparently chooses to tell simply the stories that interest him. Perhaps the overarching theme of his work could be: The Black, the White, and the Gray.

What places Eastwood in the pantheon of American directors? I am reminded of what Spencer Tracy once said when asked the secret of great acting. He responded, simply, "Memorize your lines." Perhaps Eastwood's directorial style could be similarly boiled down to a succinct: Put the camera in the right place.

So what you seem to be asking for is some sort of stylized repetition (Or what people such as yourself like to call the "auteur theory")? Myself? I like a director who lets his talent and passion serve the film and not try to let the film clinch with his or her own personal style. Maybe that's why some of Scorsese's films turn out to be such bloody disasters, such as 'New York, New York' and 'Gangs of New York'. Also, for some strange reason I feel that one of the reasons for this article may have to do with Richard Schickel (Eastwood biographer and sycophant) bashing Robert Altman, who was referenced Above. One of your directorial idols and one of mine too.

There's really something to be said for a director who gets out of the way and lets the cast and crew do their jobs, but I wonder how much better "Mystic River" would have been if the director told the actors to stop chewing scenery and service the story.

Interesting view, Jim. I would agree that aesthetically, Eastwood does not really set himself apart as an auteur, although I recently read that he composes musical scores for some of his films, which is noteworthy in this regard.

But as other people pointed out, he is a distinct, poignant storyteller. With years of maturation, he seems to have a sensible grasp of all themes involving life and death. I do not believe that an "auteur" must be a director who envelopes his or her work with a distinctive visual/aural style. The very lack of attention that Eastwood draws to his unassuming style could be considered style in itself (think Ozu's lack of active camera movement). He shows and tells stories of powerful emotional depth through simple but effective characterization and conversation.

You may never know an Eastwood film when you see a trailer for one, but I argue that you will walk out of the film with the afterthought that it was 'definitively Eastwood'. That's the eerie beauty of Eastwood; he is a wise old man who can tell a good story without no outright directorial style, all the while instilling in viewers that they saw something distinctly Eastwoodian. It's the power of pure storytelling, regardless of the author: Eastwood commands tone.

One thing I don't like about Eastwood films: ever notice how stereotypically he portrays unloving and uncaring relatives of the protagonist? For example, the mother in "Million Dollar Baby" or the granddaughter in "Gran Torino". He paints them with too broad/harsh a stroke, making them all too glib with the protagonist and all the more unlikable for viewers (intentionally so). I suppose it helps establish the low moral fiber of such characters as quickly as possible. It's contrived and forced (like Margaret's mother in "Million Dollar Baby" coming to visit her now-quadriplegic daughter while wearing a Goofy hat from Disneyland). Other than that, keep on keeping on Eastwood.

Hey, all you folks who keep wondering whether Clint Eastwood is an "auteur" or not, the answer is yes, he is an "auteur", but so what?

Ron Howard is another. So is Michael Bay. This does not mean they are any good.

Conversely, Woody Allen, Orson Welles, Terrence Malick, John Huston, Akira Kurosawa and Sergio Leone, to name but a few of my favorite filmmakers are NOT auteurs for one very simple reason; they write their own scripts!

If you write or co-write your own scripts, you are NOT an auteur. The appellation auteur is reserved for director only. That's fine with me. My favorite filmmakers are basically story tellers and if it ain't on the page, it ain't on the stage, even in a Malick movie.

John Huston said it best, directing is just an extension of the writing process. And I value those who can write more than those who can direct.

Look on the IMDB at the credits for directors only and they are usually quite long. But check out the list of credits for writers only, even the best only have a few titles.

If you think I'm wrong, go ahead, try and write a movie, from scratch. Almost any idiot can stage one, once it's written on paper.

When I think of Eastwood as a director, I think of a man who enjoys giving his actors space. In the literal sense, he usually locates them firmly in their environment, establishing clear geographical space and letting them move through it, or at least exist in it. No "intensified continuity" here. He also doesn't always gives his stars the prominent foreground space in wider shots.

One scene that sticks out for me in the movie is the first cooking class. Shot on an angle facing the class, we see Damon standing at the back with an unnamed older man up front. Bryce Dallas Howard walks in and the teacher matches her up with a partner. The older man delivers a wonderful silent performance as he clearly hopes the young lady will be matched with him - alas she heads to the back of the class w/Damon for their impending meet cute.

Examples like this (I remember spotting several in Gran Torino but I can't remember now!) are one way Eastwood has of going beyond the "transparent" mode of storytelling he's usually credited with. To use an old term, he seeks out privileged moments at certain times, little touches that may even undercut or distract from the star power of his front line names. Except when he's working with shameless Oscar-baiters like Hillary Swank.

He also likes crane shots. Which you also mentioned.

As for "Hereafter," it's a film that provides the vague impression of being "about something" without having anything in particular to say about it. Death makes people want a connection, but they should seek it with the living, not the dead. Fair enough, but to portray that in such a literal way with this "network narrative" structure that forces its three disparate characters into a contrived meeting is so trite that it doesn't even work as a spoon-fed catharsis. The comparisons with "Crash" and "Babel" are only superficial, but I had a similar reaction at the ending of all three (or at least with "Crash" - I've already forgotten how "Babel" ends): "Oh come on! Come on! Have some pride!" This is "Movie of the Week" material and I think the perhaps sarcastic mention above of "Five People You Meet in Heaven" as being more profound is fairly apt.

Visually, Eastwood doesn't have much to offer either. You've already made an uncomplimentary reference to the film's depiction of what might be the hereafter - the stereotypical white light with shadowy figures. I thought "The Lovely Bones" depiction of running perpetually through fog or white space was unimaginative, but this is even duller. Perhaps if we read this generously, Eastwood isn't trying to provide his own vision of the hereafter, but simply recreating the culturally-shared generic one. Maybe. But then I also look at the very clunky montage of "fake psychics" (redundant, I know) that he offers as counterpoint to Damon's real deal, and I think that lack of inspiration/imagination is the real culprit. I'm not accusing Eastwood of coasting - I think that's an unfair charge. I just felt that he spent all of his energy providing an empathetic rendering of his characters rather than in telling the story in an interesting way. Being saddled with a thoroughly uninteresting screenplay is part of the problem too.

Since Fei (above) says that most of Eastwood's recent directorial work is a repudiation of his past, and his star-persona, can his next film be a repudiation of the repudiation?

He should make something like "The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly II: This Time it's Personal", which gleefully celebrates the anti-hero's violence and has no character arc or self-reflection whatsoever.

When I think about it, Clint Eastwood is maybe the only filmmaker, aside from Scorsese, who can make a movie that I can convince my father to go see with me simply by mentioning that it's an Eastwood (or Scorsese) film. I'm certain my father thinks Eastwood and remembers his roles as an actor, whereas I know him primarily as a director. But whatever -- we still go to his films, and usually come out of the theater agreeing on our thoughts and impressions of the film we just saw. That's good enough for me.

I like Eastwood's films, in general, so I'm not bashing him. I didn't really get into him as a director until after Unforgiven (I'm only 28 and grew up thinking of him mostly as an actor). I loved Million Dollar Baby and liked Mystic River...it's at least possible that I liked them for the same reasons you don't. However, it was at some point after that that I realized that his films only *appear* subtle and meditative. See, that quality is what I liked about his work at first. That sense of "drabness" - that somber quality you mention - at first I took it as subtlety. But I realized at some point, that what Eastwood's defining characteristic (in terms of tone at least) is - stay with me here - heavy-handed subtlety. Characters that barely speak (oh but they speak loudly with their actions! GET IT?!?), have "seen the world for what it truly is," etc...

His protagonists often seem, to me, to be various embodiments of Eastwood's own projected persona.

I still like his work to some degree, but I no longer mistake them for being subtle and nuanced.

I was always a big fan of "workmanlike" directors when I was younger--directors who knew their trade, didn't fuss, got the job done sure-handedly. But that was when I was looking back, into the studio system, with its ego-crushing production cycles, its (relative) lack of pretenstion, and its engaged professionals at every level.

Hawks or Siegel? I still kinda love them. But Eastwood in the age of hype and veneration? I still kinda admire him, but I have no interest in seeing anymore of his films. With the way he works, I think he'd have to settle more comfortably into genre subjects for me to start liking his economy and mood again.

If a director doesn't have a particularly strong vision or signature style, maybe the best he can hope for is to be invisible.

His insistence on shooting scripts down to their every dot and comma does present its own problems. I haven't seen hereafter, but I remember much of the dialogue in Gran Torino being expository and redundant. It could have and should have been excised.

That might go beyond stubborn faithfulness to the script and into the territory of underconfidence as a director. There was plenty of storytelling purely in the visuals of Gran Torino, but perhaps Clint felt that they didn't get the message across strongly enough. That's the best explanation I can think of for why the characters are so chatty and on-the-nose about everything.

One of my biggest problems with Eastwood is his shocking inability to NOT telegraph every single idea or emotion he wants to say well in advance.

Eastwood also has little faith that audiences will ever be able to make dramatic connections for themselves. There is a scene in Magnum Force I want to mention, now I know Eastwood did not direct that one, but it proves my point and has been echoed in many other films Eastwood HAS directed.

If you remember, the story line for Magnum Force follows some nasty motorcycle cops who have become vigilantes, killing suspects they think are evil. They think Dirty Harry Callahan would like to join them, but he doesn't, which puts his life at risk. It’s not a bad film all things considered.

The scene I still remember with frightening fidelity has a completely stereotypical 1970’s black pimp in a gaudy “Pimp-Mobile” being pulled over by one of the nasty motorcycle cops for a minor traffic violation and when the black pimp tries to bribe the cop, the cop shoots him point blank in the face.

The audience cheered at this both times I saw it in the theatre, but why? Why would they cheer the murder of an erstwhile innocent man?

Because the previous scene showed the same black pimp murdering one of his prostitutes. Not only that, he killed her by forcing drain cleaner down her throat, which is, I guess, the standard way pimps kill their hookers; or at least that's how they do it in San Francisco.

The point is, only by making the black pimp such a totally horrific character BEFORE he's murdered unjustly (and he was murdered unjustly, no matter what else he may have done) can Eastwood make any kind of pretense at being on the side of so-called decent people.

That kind of “make the guy you want the villain totally irredeemable” so the heroes faults seem minor in comparison is one solid constant in the work of Clint Eastwood. It IS what makes him a recognizable auteur and what will forever keep him from entering the pantheon of great film directors.

Because that kind of story sensibility is trite, facile and predictable and Eastwood can’t help himself. It even happens in films that Eastwood didn’t direct, but only starred in because there are very few directors who have ever worked with Eastwood who ever had the ability to stand up to his relentless blandness and countermand his directing from the wings.

Check out the unofficial "Eastwood Rule" the DGA has. Supposedly, he makes Kevin Costner's constant meddling seem benign.

I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall on the set for A Perfect World (my favorite Eastwood directed film). Both Kevin and Clint had recently won Best Director Oscars, maybe they tempered each other the way volatile elements like sodium and chlorine can chemically combine to make the necessary table salt we need to live.

I'm sure I'm cruising for a contradiction, but I doubt if Clint Eastwood's films would be such an event were it not for his stature and status as an actor. He's directed some fine films, and some real clunkers, but there's almost always something else in his films that defines them, rather than the "Directed by Clint Eastwood" tag. I think of many of his films as "Clint Eastwood" films chiefly because he also acted in them (A Perfect World, Absolute Power, Play Misty for Me). But Changeling is "Angelina Jolie's 1930s period piece," Iwo Jima is "that movie told from the Japanese POV," Mystic River is "that hammy procedural" (what was with the overracting? I've never seen Kevin Bacon better, or Tim Robbins or Marcia Gay Harden worse).

Actually, most of the journeyman directors that come to mind are also actors: Sean Penn, Ben Affleck, Ron Howard. And I wonder how David Mamet would fare if he were directing a movie not based on his own script. I have a feeling it would be a lot less Mametian.

Jim,

I've been a reader of your blog for a couple years but have never commented. I'm interested about your near-death experience that you mentioned. I feel like I had a similar one (and I'm an orthodox Christian) the first time I ever smoked pot.

I had this terrifying feeling of my soul being sucked out of the top of my head but it wasn't going anywhere, just to . . . "nothingness". It made me very scared that God doesn't exist. This all happened while I was leaning over the kitchen sink, puking, and calling to my friends, "I am so high, I am so high, I am so high."

What happened to you?

There seems to be one scene that perhaps is an iconic Eastwood scene.

He'll film a scene in a car at night and have the streetlights kind of reveal and hide the faces of characters at a key point in the film, which Roger describes in his review of "Million Dollar Baby."

He also does this exact same thing with the lighting at a key moment in the film "Bird", a film about Charlie Parker and his drug addiction.

It probably worked better in "Bird", not least because of Forest Whitaker's performance.

So, perhaps he is trying to create some iconic scenes.

He seems to like to shoot in darkness, and I suppose you could say that "Million Dollar Baby" utilizes this lighting method throughout, but not just inside the car.

Another thing he seems to do as of lately at least, he does is kind of use humor a lot, as a kind of comic relief, or what have you; at least that's what it seemed to be in "Gran Torino" and "Million Dollar Baby", which I think explains the caricatures of the family in MDB; I think he was trying to make us laugh, as well as with the "simple" character and the priest.

I haven't seen "Changeling" but I'm willing to bet there were was this same kind of comic relief sprinkled throughout it alternating with the seriousness.

It is true that we love to build up our icons only to tear them down. Not that I find Jim's words to reflect this sentiment, but there has been a considerable Eastwood backlash as of late. Like a championship team that has won too many titles, the media, ever-longing for an underdog, begins to resent the success. Thus, much is now written about Eastwood's old man cinema, his strict adherence to the text and his penchant for unabashed melodrama.

I think Jim raises a fair question in what defines an Eastwood film, though. I've often seen him in the John Ford tradition with his knowing economy and spare technique. Eastwood is the only director working in that tradition today and it is a welcome reprieve from the bombast and spectacle in modern cinema. It is not something to be ridiculed but celebrated as a sharp contrast to the self-referential, overwrought, pop culture saturation that runs wild through the medium.

Eastwood seems heavily influenced by his mentor Don Siegel's invisible craft and less by Sergio Leone, the other father he acknowledges in his Unforgiven dedication. What I admire incessently about him is his longhand approach to filmmaking, allowing silence and grace to settle onscreen with minimal intrusion. Whereas filmmakers like Martin Scorsese and Oliver Stone attempt to embrace the modern generation's style via busy, ADD shot selections, desperately trying to to stay relevant, Eastwood soundly rejects trends. He never aims to be fashionable, even when his more recent works are anchored by fashionable personalities.

Filmmakng being a collaborative medium, Eastwood's films are synonymous with Jack Green's cinematography and the late Henry Bumstead's production design. He keeps it simple and intimate, stripping much of the artifice from the medium while others opt for a more is less approach.

What comes to mind when contemplating Eastwood as director? I think of the scene in Bridges of Madison County with a truck hesitating at a stoplight in the rain, or the delicate use of ellipses to convey the unspeakable (child abuse) in the opening scenes of Mystic River, and the death of Charlie Parker in Bird with its effective use of montage.

But one also recognizes Eastwood's pop icon status and his ability to present his own image as memorably. Whether it be William Munny's rumination on killing a man, Dirty Harry making our day, or a rousing sequence in Blood Work with a post transplant Terry McCaleb facing off against a Ford with a shotgun, Eastwood's screen image is pure Americana like baseball or jazz. His screen image the most enduring and iconic in history.

I would much rather hear about the negative impact of Tarantino's mixtapes, Scorsese's descent into overwrought mediocrity or Almodovar's amplified soap operas than criticism of Eastwood and his stand alone adherence to old Hollywood craftsmanship. I may not love all of his films, or even like them all, but he gets me out to the theater every time.

Great subject matter, but I think a point is being missed here. Eastwood's films are a throwback to the classic film making of the 40's and 50's, hell even the 60's. I'll take an Eastwood film any day over the film school hacks who feel if a scene lasts longer than a second then the movie is too slow.
Yes, some Eastwood films could be considered "leisurely" so could the films of Lean and dare I say it, Kubrick. And finally, I agree the main problem with an Eastwood film is his choice(s) of composer. Eastwood has made it known he's not a fan of film music composers. Eastwood can write a pretty melody but he doesn't have the chops to write a full score.

I agree with Tony's comment, except that I think a comparison to Anthony Mann would be more apt than John Ford. Darker, more psychological.

Eastwood's movies are similar and I think John B does a great job of describing some people (including myself) feel about Eastwood.

I think this is the way he was taught to make films. We all know Seigel and Leone, but the other filmmakers he adores are Wise and Huston. They were also economical in their own way and made movie after movie after movie. He picks the script because he likes it. But he isn't going to change it because he isn't a writer, he's the director. He's not a micromanager and therefore some touches will inevitably vary based on who he works with. This collaboration effect may make the effort seem disengaged, as you've complained, but really it matters how much everyone is invested in make the picture.

Yes, there are recurrent themes running though out his movies, but one thread through most is ambiguity. He is comfortable within it. Outside of a duty to those around you, he rarely judges good or bad and thinks of most people as a mix of both. Cinematically, he half covers faces in shadows and guesses that you'll be smart enough to figure what is going on. His world is a physical world (I guess that even in hereafter the focus will larger be on this world and not the next) and a complex world. In this way he is still very much a child of the 60's and 70's cinema, but this vision is cycled through the bye gone era of production.

As for the score, the reason why he doesn't like most film composers is that they create something to manipulate the audience into an emotion that the drama couldn't accomplish. I think this goes back to Eastwoods matra: The drama is there and uncover it and it will carry itself.

I have not seen the movie (so obviously this comment seems to dance around the prompt, but I will continue); I will tell you what I feel about Clint Eastwood. Do I care for his movies and do I feel a dramatic emotion when I watch them? Yes and no, I find them to be interesting stories held up by the performances from the actors he allots to the roles, but I also believe that there is solidity to his work and deserves, in ways, respect. Mystic River and Million Dollar Baby were both powerful stories with enough pathos to choke even the most cynical or jovial viewer, but is the directing the reason why or is it the acting? Obviously the acting is wonderful and extremely well-realized, but the directing had some wide, saddening shots, and an overall dark blue-wash effect... not exactly impressing. Honestly, I don't see any directorial vision; I don't see anything that makes me feel like I had the complete package. I see a very enjoyable showcase of character and story, but no WOW factor that made me feel like I had been slapped in the face with style and flare; I never feel like I have seen art, just a moving life-story. But is that truly a problem; are we just being fooled by Eastwood's blueprint to his artistry? In theatre, just creating the story, making us believe it, and letting us enjoy it, is achievement enough and is deserving of accolade--no need for flash and trash. Maybe we are just being greedy and we want an interesting angle or a cool wash of special effect, but we don't see the true beauty of a story. I think maybe Eastwood has created a long list of truth in his work and, in the end he has showcase his performers and his story; this may be the best a director can do. Regardless, he is a strong director; whether or not we particularly enjoy the style is our favorite, is up for deliberation. Granted, I am just a High School Theatre student, but I think that all in all, he deserves to be commended for his work, for his life, for what legacy he has created; it truly is powerful. I am still a complete Eastwood fan. He is a marvel and he deserves credit for it, regardless of my opinion.

Hey, Jim -

I realize all of us here have our Eastwood preferences and considered failures, so there will never be a consensus on any given forum. However, I'd really like to know why you consider Mystic River to be a "terrible" film.

I still remember the showing I attended and not a cell phone was ringing nor a whisper was heard. A full house captivated by what was unfolding onscreen from start to finish. I may not go to the movies as often as you, but I do go often, and this is very rare.

Now, I do have some friends that find fault with the film and there is some critical backlash covering their same gripes. Namely, a sense that the acting is histrionic (with Sean Penn's meltdown upon learning of his daughter's fate being singled out), the awkward framing device used in presenting Bacon's ex-wife, or some of the story contrivances found in the novel. And yet I've still never heard its critics refer to the film as terrible.

While I do concede some of these points, I find them few and far between in what is a rich, morally complex and fascinating tale. No easy answers to be found and ending on just the right note of ambiguity.

A movie this wounded and still, directed with such a steady hand and showcasing great local flavor, Mystic River is criminally overlooked in favor of more bombastic, twist-laden Boston fare such as The Departed or Gone Baby Gone.

Anyway, if you wouldn't mind sharing your views for those of us who can't fathom your having such a negative experience watching it. It's like someone just told me The Beatles were trash.

Roger Ebert said (paraphrase) that Schindler's List was Spielberg's best film because Spielberg the director was completely absent in every frame of it.

Well, it sounds like a well considered dislike for the film. I wasn't aware that you wrote so extensively about it. I'll have to review the archives.

Yes, the Robin Wright Penn close ups (news to me- I didn't know it was her) are badly handled. He took a chance with composition here and it didn't work. The character is wholly unnecessary, anyway. I agree with you. But, the emotional gravity in this film transcended some of the narrative baggage for me. Namely, the convenience of a rogue child molester that leads to a gross misunderstanding. I thought you might highlight that one. More importantly, the characters here were complex and challenging in palpable ways, leaving the audience without a moral compass as the story unfolded.

Laura Linney's character rang true for me because, generally in the movies, the wife of a criminal is either painfully ignorant or willfully so. So I never found Lady MacBeth in reading her character - more like a well mannered socialite that utters a bigoted phrase at dinner and forever changes your perception of them. In a candid moment, her ugliness bubbles to the surface to reveal she has no fear or hesitation in attaining self-preservation. She entered into this marriage with her eyes open. At a crucial moment when Penn was conflicted, she put this into words and gave him strength. It was unsettling, but not out of character.

In the case of Marcia Gay Harden and Tim Robbins, gentleness is exposed as weakness. Their sad sack love story doomed by a small boy's nightmare, with Harden's blind trust in friendship complementing Robbins' similar openness in getting into that car. Sadly, the villains continue to prevail.

I really loved the hand gesture by Bacon and found it neither flip nor cocky. It was a peculiar move that can be read several ways. I sensed that Bacon's initial sympathy for Penn had devolved into judgment as the story progressed and an unspoken belief that Penn's sins and failings may have contributed to his own daughter's death. It may have meant this will all catch up with you, or you know that I know and this isn't over. But for me, it was similar to the ending chosen for Zodiac where a glance between a newspaperman and a suspect resolved for characters what it could not do in narrative.

I prefer the word untidy to sloppy but soundly reject the notion that this film is slick. The Departed is slick. The Kids are All Right is slick. This felt like a wounded animal on screen. Mystic River is a Joni Mitchell record, a memorial to the undead. It may suffer from a few wrong turns, but it's the kind of spare, sobering drama made for adults that I search for and rarely find.

But I respect your opinion.

I think David Fincher/The Social Network provides a very nice contrast to Eastwood/Hereafter when it comes to what makes a great director. Here are two films written by fairly prominent screenwriters (Sorkin, Morgan) which, by most accounts, the directors filmed essentially as written. Fincher's film manages an exciting, stylistically assured and altogether very personal piece filled with Fincher's own dark vision of ambition and technology. Can anyone imagine The Social Network being remotely as good (or as unique) in the hands of Sorkin, who apparently wanted to direct initially, or in the hands of Rob Reiner, who directed Sorkin's other famous script "A Few Good Men"? Fincher never writes his own material yet all of his films are clearly the work of a director with personal vision and great ideas about what a film can and should be. Eastwood's picture, on the other hand, would probably turn out essentially the same in the hands of any schmaltzy, earnest big Hollywood director of today. The film could just as easily have been made by the other invisible stylist actor-turned-director Ron Howard, who filmed Morgan's last bore, "Frost/Nixon." Neither are particularly good directors, but their clout among Hollywood producers allows them to bring their boring style to pretty much any script they choose, and win awards while working on autopilot.

I think cases like this stand as a confirmation of auteurist criticism, suggesting that while not all films are the works of great directors with singular artistic visions, the most interesting ones usually are.

I think a lot of Eastwood's films are about action versus nonaction. The major conflict is often, "Will I do this thing?". The action is usually based on principle rather than plot: the need to shoot an elephant in "White Hunter Black Heart," vengeance in "Unforgiven" and "Mystic River," the choice at the end of "Million Dollar Baby," the choice of suicide over life in "Letters," Damon's begrudging use of his gift in "Hereafter." I think he sees the priests in "Million Dollar Baby" and "Gran Torino" as the kind that sit on the sidelines and comment and don't do anything, which is why Eastwood's characters are always at such odds with them. "Invictus" is totally Eastwoodian in that it's entirely about the protagonist (Mandela/Freeman) setting his mind to do something and then getting it done, something symbolic, but with real-world consequences.

There's this line in "White Hunter Black Heart," spoken by Eastwood's John Huston character after he's just picked a fight and gotten his ass handed to him:

"How 'bout that. I feel pretty good, really. It's like I always tell ya kid, you gotta fight when you think it's the right thing to do. Otherwise, you feel like your gut's full of puss. Even if you get the hell beat outta ya, if ya fight, ya feel ok about it."

Your comments on "Hereafter" are pretty much Fact. I agree that the movie isn't really about anything. It's ridiculous Hollywood fluff. However, I still enjoyed it for this reason: Eastwood is a reserved director, and he doesn't overdo things. I appreciate his restraint, and I find his traditionalist style sort of refreshing because most films are so loud and ramped up.

As to his directorial vision or world view, I think there is a connection between some of his films. To me, "Changeling," "Mystic River," "Million Dollar Baby" and "Flags of Our Fathers" are all pessimistic views of the world. I call it pessimistic because he goes the extra mile to make things dour. The parents visiting Hilary Swank in the hospital, after going to Disneyland in "Million Dollar Baby", the ice-cold ending of "Mystic River" when nothing is really resolved, and the totally depressing 'bad luck' feel of "Changeling" are connected.

On the other hand, there is an optimism in both "Hereafter" and "Invictus" that borders on prozac-induced. The endings are more than happy, they're stand up and celebrate Way To Go World endings. They seem to be films made by an old man who has now resolved to leave a little happiness in his wake. His facilities aren't as strong as they once were, and he makes flagrant mistakes, or allows them (project manager does seem a fitting job description) but he means well and he's an icon so it's hard not to root for him, and also sort of give him a pass when he might not deserve it. Enough of "Invictus" and "Hereafter" worked for me, and I ignored that parts that didn't. It's like if my grandpa directed a movie, I'd have to like it.

Hey Jim,

I agree for all except putting "Flags" or "Letters" on a list of anything equating them to quality.

"Torino" succeeds simply because of Eastwood's performance. Watching a pro like that so easily maneuver his way through a mediocre story and give it depth and heart is fascinating.

"Personally, I don't understand why anybody needs to present or debate feelings about how good a given movie is here. That in itself does nothing to advance the discussion; it's not even on-topic. As a matter of fact, I do think that Gran Torino is far from a masterpiece, but why must you question me on it? It's only a subjective opinion anyway."

My god, I present you a massive compliment ("Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant post!!!....Really a wonderful post regarding an actor/director I revere! Bravo!!!") and your only response is to snipe about the fact that I criticise two minor points. No thankyou, no gratitude, just "All right, I concede" (wow, thanks ever so much) and the above comments? You really need to learn some manners and to see the glass as half full.

Oh, and I questioned you on it because it's a discussion site, and since neither you nor your friend are the world's authority on Eastwood, you are not above being questioned. As it was, I only questioned you on one minor detail. My post was 99% complimentary. But no, you have to ignore the praise. Not only that, but you can't even respond to the post in a reasonable manner; it's defensive, arrogant (who are you to determine which is on-topic and whether discussing the quality of said film advances the discussion?), and presents you as someone who can't take any criticism and would prefer to give a lecture, when you are dealing with people who know as much about Eastwood as you or your friend do.

As for being a subjective opinion, so is everything in your post. I love it, I think it is a brilliant examination of Eastwood's work, however it is completely subjective, and if you don't like being criticised or 'questioned', then you shouldn't contribute to a blog site. Certainly, you shouldn't if you can't handle being criticised or questioned.

You know Fei, for someone who seems to be arguing that assumptions have no place in argument, you sure do make a lot of assumptions about Joe G.'s post. Who said he had preconceived notions about Ron Howard's work? He found Frost/Nixon boring, so he must not have been paying attention, right? Did he ever claim to be a "Fincher devotee?" Most of the discussion here is on the auteur theory, so why can't we speculate what kind of film Rob Reiner would have made had he worked on the Social Network? We're not doing a science project or working on a math problem here. You don't have all the answers we ever wanted to know about the film cannon of Clint Eastwood.

"Hereafter" is Eastwood's worst attempt; I sat through it all and was bored to the point of really disliking it. "Million Dollar Baby" was absolutely his best; "Unforgiven" was absolutely his econd worst directing job. What can we say aout him--maybe that when he only directs, he shouldn't, and when he stars in it anyone could have directed the movie, even him?

How can you not tell what a clint eastwood movie looks like??? And Hereafter is a Masterpiece!

Eastwood's use of naturalistic lighting, tight focus shots, lack of "trick" editing and/or camera work and stylistic jazz scores, not to mention a thematic distrust of authority all are consistent to his films. It's interesting, I can read the likes of Roger Ebert and Stephen Hunter (when he reviewed films) and know the author instantly through thier respective styles...hmm, can't say the same of you. Maybe you ought to work on that a bit(?)