Category: Clint Eastwood Director

HIGH PLAINS DRIFTER

By Marc S. Sanders

Because Clint Eastwood’s career of acting roles is thematically the strong, silent type, it’s easy to appreciate that in one film he may be The Man With No Name, while in another picture he’s simply The Stranger.  In the second film he directed, High Plains Drifter, he’s an intimidating force riding on horseback into the lakeside town of Lago.  

He may enter the saloon for a beer and a bottle and then cross the street to the barber for a shave and a bath, but you likely do not want to ever involve yourself with him.  He is also horrifically unkind to one of the few women in these parts.  Let’s just say it ain’t no roll in the hay.  This Stranger is a scary dude in a black hat.

The townsmen recognize a convenience in this man’s arrival though.  He’s demonstrated what he is capable of and therefore he appears to be the one qualified to kill three outlaws who were just released from prison with vengeance on their minds as they make a return to Lago.

There’s a hint of supernatural play in High Plains Drifter.  The Stranger recalls a harsh night when the local Marshall had been whipped to death by the townsfolk.  Could the Marshall be the Stranger?  Perhaps.  The victimized Marshall is portrayed by Eastwood’s long time stunt double and occasional director Buddy Van Horn (Pink Cadillac, The Dead Pool).  While that bloody slaughter occurred, the townsfolk simply watched with no offer to help.  For a while, High Plains Drifter was rumored to have been inspired by a real-life rape from the mid-1960s which ultimately led to the need for calling 911 in the event of an emergency.  Art imitates life even in the Old West.

The Stranger agrees to help the town prepare for the outlaws’ violent return, but like a fantasy character he makes special requests of his own including reassigning the sheriff’s badge to the town dwarf, plus taking whatever merchandise he wants from the mercantile and occupying the two best rooms in the hotel.  Also, he gives instructions to load up on a large supply of red paint.  Is the town of Lago getting what they bargained for or are they dwindling into a worse fate? Could be a deal with the devil or as Jewish mysticism might imply, the town of Lago might be inheriting a gollum.

Clint Eastwood salutes his prior directors that prepped him to become an esteemed filmmaker.  Don Siegel’s (Dirty Harry) and Sergio Leone’s (The Dollars spaghetti westerns) names are engraved on tombstones within the nearby cemetery built for the set.  Eastwood adopts some of their famed techniques while not setting himself apart from what those influencers accomplished.  He was still finding his footing behind the camera. High Plains Drifter is just a tale of revenge with recognizable set ups found within typical Hollywood westerns.  

Visually, the film starts out mysteriously with The Stranger’s arrival out of a sun soaked desert boil.  The photography looks deliberately grainy before the modern twenty-first century film restoration appears. Not a word of dialogue is uttered until after the picture has run for over seven minutes.  

Lago becomes a town with a new kind of identity later in the film as mandated by the script.  This is where Eastwood finds opportunity to do things with his western that his earlier pictures had not offered yet.  A bloody, hellish war is expected.

High Plains Drifter traverses in different directions while primarily staying in this one small town and you may wonder what this storyline has to do with that storyline.  Well, the commonality of its various parts is The Stranger’s arrival.  

You’ll may question who this unnamed man truly was by the time film ends.  Maybe it was not a man at all.  There are moments included by Eastwood’s direction to question what precisely occurred.  

Is High Plains Drifter a western or is it a ghost story? Like me, perhaps you’ll uncover moments that support either argument.

LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA

By Marc S. Sanders

The companion piece to Clint Eastwood’s World War II film, Flags Of Our Fathers, and shot back-to-back, is Letters From Iwo Jima.  It’s not so much a war film as it’s a perspective of a losing battle during the height of the war, shown through the eyes of Japanese soldiers bearing little ammunition, food, and supplies while being plagued with dysentery and starvation. 

Right from the start, what I found interesting is how similar the Japanese mentality is to that of American soldier characters I’m all too familiar within other cinematic retellings. Paul Haggis recruited Iris Yamashita to write the screenplay, entirely in English, and then translated into Japanese.  The subtitles seem to read with a familiar English vernacular that my limited knowledge of Japanese culture would never expect.  I also find it interesting that rankings are the same from General to Lieutenant for example, and the salute to officers is precisely identical.  All of these similarities, and still the world powers find reason to fight one another.

The running theme of the picture reminded me of the television show M*A*S*H.  An assortment of characters take the time to write home about their experiences and fears along with the hardships they are enduring with unpure water, sweltering heat, infectious bugs and exhaustion.  One soldier’s letters are told will get censored if they ever reach the mother land.  These men are bakers and scholars, forced to serve a power that controls them.  They are not spies or regular army men.  They had no choice but to be here digging and preparing to kill.

Ken Watanabe portrays General Kuribayashi.  In the beginning of the film, he is writing a letter to his wife as he is landing on the island days ahead of the battle to come.  One of his biggest concerns is that he did not finish installing the kitchen floor in his home before leaving. Kuribayashi is a celebrated strategist and hero, who actually studied and worked abroad in the United States.  He even broke bread with famed American military leaders and carries a valuable gift from them in his holster.  Yet, he is committed to his country’s Imperial Army and he knows he will not return home from this island.  He also knows that he will have to kill the very same men that he shared a meal with just a few years earlier. That kitchen floor is what is on his mind. 

A young infantryman named Saigô (Kazunari Ninomiya) was forced to enlist while his loving wife is carrying their child.  I’ve seen character situations like these before.  It’s much more revealing to see what cinematic history has described as the enemy to my John Wayne and Clint Eastwood heroes, though.  Recently, I listened to The Cine-Philes podcast recap of the film Crimson Tide, and they focus heavily on the midway dinner scene among the officers.  Denzel Washington’s character concludes that “…the true enemy of war is…war itself.”  Letters From Iwo Jima delivers on that argument.

Ahead of the well-known battle, there’s a quiet tranquility among the Japanese troops.  They debate about digging trenches and even fighting on the island which is devoid of any stronghold or power.  It’s also an unwinnable battle as the Japanese have realized that they are getting no air or naval support because much of their military cavalries have already been decimated.  The ultimate purpose for these men is to hold off the Americans, who are ten times more powerful, for as long as possible.  No man serving the Imperials is to surrender.  They will fight until they are as good as dead.  General Kuribayashi’s best idea to hold out is to dig caves within the mountainsides, thus making it challenging for the American soldiers to locate Japanese within the darkness of the caverns.  It worked longer than it should have as the engagement that was expected to only last five days went as long as thirty-six days instead.

Disturbing moments within the film do not compromise.  A small unit’s unified shout of “BANZAI!” will live with you forever when you see what they jointly commit within the cave they occupy.  Eastwood convincingly shows you the carnage.  Another character recollects how he was enlisted for five days in the military before he was forced to serve at this miserable place for disobeying a direct order. His humanity undid him.  Letters From Iwo Jima tells the stories before the occurrences that left gravesites (estimated to be ten thousand Japanese men lost) on its black sand beaches.

In a way it makes me proud that Clint Eastwood chose to direct Letters From Iwo Jima.  While his war pictures (Where Eagles Dare, Kelly’s Heroes), and even his Dirty Harry films which lean on prejudice for the truth found in humor, are endlessly memorable, he opts to take a sensitive position to the other side of the coin.  Eastwood does not lose sight of the fact that his heroes celebrated during the first half of his career were heroically killing and taking out fellow humans.  Letters From Iwo Jima recognizes the loss of humanity amidst the rocket fires and artillery of violence.  Six Japanese men will take to killing a captured American by beating and stabbing him into lifelessness.  Later, faceless Americans concealed by the director’s familiar shadows of photography will point blank kill a pair of unarmed Japanese men. 

Flags Of Our Fathers points a critical eye at the celebrations of victory.  Letters From Iwo Jima acknowledges victory is beyond reach but the enemy of all of us, war, is never done with any of us.

ABSOLUTE POWER

By Marc S. Sanders

As Clint Eastwood’s Absolute Power was unfolding I started to think this plays like one of those hardcover bestseller political thrillers from the 90s that my dad would scoop up off of the neatly designed stack at the front of Barnes & Noble.  You know with the glossy book jacket that has the blood stain and a dead girl’s nail polished hand next to a bloody letter opener.  The graphics are elevated to feel the crime scene with your fingertips.  The intrigue is summed up on the inside tab.  You turn to the back of the book to see the picture of the author.  Then you buy it with your membership card.  Go figure!  William Goldman adapted the screenplay from a novel by renowned author David Baldacci. Absolute Power has an engaging set up, a who’s who of a cast, it’s directed, produced and starring Eastwood. Still, it evolves into utter eye-rolling preposterousness.

Eastwood directs his own portrayal Luther Whitney, an expert jewel thief.  He might be getting up there in age but he scopes out the mansion of a billionaire tycoon (E.G Marshall, in his final on-screen role) and locates the vault hidden behind a large two-way mirror.  Everything is going to plan as Luther bags up the valuables and a lot of cash but then a drunken couple enter with Luther hidden behind the mirror to watch their tryst turn deadly.  The President of the United States (Gene Hackman) avoids being stabbed to death by the young lady (Melora Hardin) when his secret service detail (Scott Gleen and Dennis Haysbert) enter to shoot the girl dead.  The President’s Chief of Staff (Judy Davis) arrives soon after.  Luther observes the four as they rush the Commander In Chief out of the house and alter the crime scene.  They get careless and just as Luther makes a quick exit, he retrieves evidence that will hopefully work to his advantage.  Now he’s in danger of the President and the other three as they work to permanently contain the situation.

Elsewhere is Ed Harris as the detective out to solve the murder and uncover everything we already know.  When he realizes a thief must have been at the scene of the crime, he actually approaches Luther for some guidance as to who could have been there.  Later, he will use Laura Linney, playing Luther’s daughter, for assistance as her father seems to be the prime suspect. 

The tycoon, the President’s biggest supporter, also wants to resolve his personal vendetta by hiring his own sniper (Richard Jenkins) to take out Luther. 

Absolute Power has all of these players, with recognizable actors in the roles, and yet cannot work the magic necessary to fix this outrageous conundrum.  I can believe that a President could get in more trouble than he needs with a one-night stand and a dead girl on the floor.  I can believe members of his staff will work to tie off all the loose ends, even if it means more murder and mayhem must occur. 

What is hard to swallow is how neatly the story wraps up literally within one afternoon leading into an evening.  It’s fortunate that window washers are present to throw off a couple of snipers with an inconvenient glare at the most inopportune time.  Otherwise, there will be no more movie.  It helps that a character with remorse happens to take his own life, thus exposing the conspiracy, just as Eastwood’s character is steering his own way to exoneration.  All in the same night!!!!

To ramp up the suspense, the bad guys go after Linney’s character, the one person Luther cares for the most.  She ends up in a hospital.  Message has been sent.  Luther better surrender himself along with what he knows to the President’s squad.  Yet, they try one more time to permanently eliminate her and I asked why.  What purpose does that serve to kill her now?  If you kill her, then Luther has nothing to protect or care about anymore.  He can just reveal the entire breakdown of what really happened complete with evidence and so on.

A few years earlier, Eastwood starred in In The Line Of Fire where John Malkovich played a master of disguise assassin.  Luther is also a craftsman at hiding in plain sight.  However, there’s no way I can believe that.  We are looking at Clint Eastwood here.  He’s got his own unique and very tall and square stature.  Put a white mustache and a pair of glasses on the guy, and it is still Clint Eastwood.  Put a hat and beard on him and it is still Clint Eastwood.  Wrap him up in a trench coat and have him walk the city streets in broad daylight where fifty cops are awaiting his arrival and you’ll be able to see the one and only Clint Eastwood.  It just can’t work.  James Bond can hide in disguise.  John Malkovich can hide in disguise.  Go anywhere in the world and Shaquille O’Neal and Clint Eastwood would never be hidden in plain sight. 

William Goldman (The Princess Bride, Butch Cassidy And The Sundance Kid) is one of Hollywood’s most celebrated screenwriters.  He did not think this story all the way through.  You may believe Gene Hackman (second billing behind Eastwood) would have had more of a presence in this picture but oddly enough he’s hardly there. The real bad guy roles belong to Judy Davis and Scott Glenn who are not nearly as exciting as what Hackman could have delivered.

There was a potential for a good conspiracy thriller. The problem is the audience knows too much following the first fifteen minutes of the film.  We know everything that happened and therefore I could care less about the progress that Ed Harris’ detective makes.  Absolute Power likely would have performed better had it opened after the crime had occurred.  Run the opening credits over the dead girl in the room and open the two-way mirror for Luther to enter the frame.  He makes a run for it and then the film can gradually reveal what precisely happened.  A mystery for the characters and the audiences who are watching them only works if the questions are offered before the answers are revealed.

Absolute Power offered a lot of promise with a lot of talent but it’s devoid of both.

FLAGS OF OUR FATHERS

By Marc S. Sanders

Arguably the most famous photograph in American history is that of the six soldiers raising the flag on the island of Iwo Jima while battling Japanese forces during World War II.  I remain fascinated by the image.  

I recall visiting the landmark statue in Washington DC when I was traveling by myself.  I took countless pictures of the piece.  I got close ups, wide lens shots, pictures of the flag and pictures of each sculpted soldier.  It’s heroic in any aspect.  It looks like something out of a Superman comic book.  As it turns out, the famed image was just a happy accident during a violently terrible time in twentieth century history.  Photographer Joe Rosenthal didn’t even realize what his camera captured until his film was later developed.  Turned out this was the second attempt at raising the flag.  Furthermore, this occurred on the fifth day of the conflict – with thirty-five days still to go before the Americans could claim victory over the bloody crisis.

So, while Rosenthal’s image seems to declare American patriotism at its finest, the real story is not as romantic.  In fact, one of the narrators of Clint Eastwood’s film, Flags Of Our Fathers, suggests that there are no heroes to celebrate.  Whoever the men in that picture were, they were not so much fighting for their country as they were trying to stay alive and look after the comrades ahead and behind them.

Flags Of Our Fathers has a very reminiscent feel to producer Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan with unforgiving battle scenes of blood, death, bombings and young soldiers storming a beach while screaming for their buddies.  Spielberg might have impressed me first, but Clint Eastwood masterfully shoots wide landscapes and up-close turmoil with his reliable strategies of shooting in shadows and silohouettes.  Eastwood’s film, scripted by Paul Haggis and William Broyles Jr veers into a unique direction though as Rosenthal’s picture takes on a life of its own back in the states.  It makes the front page of every paper.  Harry Truman stands proud of it along with all the decorated military leaders.

Now that America has entered the war, it is appropriate to ignite a propaganda campaign.  This picture of the Stars and Stripes getting elevated into the sobering, smoky war-torn skies will motivate citizens to buy war bonds to further fund the war effort.  The spokesmen will be the ones believed to be the remaining surviving three of the six in that image.  Ryan Phillipe is Navy enlisted John “Doc” Bradley.  Jesse Bradford is Rene Gagon, and Adam Beach plays Native American Ira Hayes, both of the Marine Corps.

I believe Flags Of Our Fathers embraces what every enlisted person did to serve the efforts of America during the war, and the picture mourns the countless sacrifices and losses that occurred.  However, it frowns upon the domestic response to what really went on overseas.  Those that returned carried terrible and unforgettable trauma based on their experiences.  Yet, the three thought to be part of the flag raising were pushed to celebrate their achievements summed up in a split-second image.  Bradley, Gagon and Hayes were skeptical if they were the ones in that picture.  Government Bureaucrats could care less.   There were others on that hill who cannot speak for themselves, but officials in suits and ties will insist otherwise to uphold a countrywide tour complete with recreations of the hill they ran up on that fateful day.  Even desserts are crafted like the famed image.

Ira Hayes is the one who is especially conflicted with his new responsibilities to the governing body that historically acquired his ancestors’ territory.  Adam Beach portrays a torn individual who is limited in celebration by the United States and certainly patronized.  Who he stems from does not matter.  He represents a false interpretation of the English acceptance of his Native heritage.  His obligation to this machine of propaganda only doubles the exaggeration that his other two peers are coerced to parade with marching bands and fireworks.  All that the ongoing extravagance does is keep him absorbed in the Japanese lives he brutally slaughtered and the bloodshed that surrounded him.  It’s a heartbreaking performance told with an absence of true appreciation for what Hayes gave up on that battlefield.

I learned much from Flags Of Our Fathers, but I had issues with comprehending everything.  While the immense war footage is chaotic with sharp editing and camerawork, it’s challenging to match names with faces in the picture.  There are two elderly men who are recounting what occurred and what happened to these men and their families long after the incident was over.  It was hard for me to line up which older man was who, on top of who they are talking about at times.  Paul Walker is one famous face in the crowd.  So is Barry Pepper but I could not identify the names of their characters until the film was arriving at its conclusion.  It was not until the epilogue of the movie arrives that it became a little clearer.  I also had to later reference what is listed on IMDB.  

The entire design of Eastwood’s movie is authentic from the battles staged for the Iwo Jima conflict to what mid-1940s domestic life looked like back home.  Truly absorbing while both storylines seem so different.  Clint Eastwood also wrote the soundtrack composition, and it is truly sobering.  His son Kyle performs with the orchestra.  

Flags Of Our Fathers partnered with Clint Eastwood’s follow up later in the year, Letters From Iwo Jima, which offered the Japanese perspective of the incident.  Bridge the films together and you get an incredible cinematic experience.  So many war pictures are one sided.  In all fairness, most movies do not have the time, luxury or finances to expand their palettes from one side to the other.  Because these two films are companion pieces, the viewer gets a fair account of how this battle, located on a tiny island, treated the men on the ground while their governing bodies celebrated their stands for patriotism, victory and monetary funding.

Eastwood demonstrates that the war destroyed practically everyone who was engaged in it regardless of the countries these soldiers served.  Many were slaughtered, but the innocence of those that physically survived died with everyone else during this period of time.  Clint Eastwood directed two films that explain this never-ending atrocity.  These men eventually laid down their weapons, but they never left the war.

MYSTIC RIVER

By Marc S. Sanders

Two crimes, thirty years apart, pave the destiny for three childhood friends during their adulthood, while residing in the same Irish neighborhood of Boston.  Sean Penn is Jimmy, a former criminal.  Kevin Bacon is Sean, a police detective.  Tim Robbins is Davey, who was held captive and molested for four days following an afternoon when the guys were playing street hockey together.  Naturally, Davey was never the same but over the course of events in Clint Eastwood’s psychological crime drama, Mystic River, we learn that Jimmy and Sean likely changed too.

Jimmy’s daughter, Katie (Emmy Rossum), is found brutally murdered following an evening of bar hopping with girlfriends.  Sean and his partner Whitey (Laurence Fishburne) head up the investigation.  While the magnetic screenplay written by Brian Helgeland, based upon the novel by Dennis Lehane, relies on a who done it track, that seems to be less a priority as details unfold for the trio of men.  Jimmy and Davey’s wives (Laura Linney, Marcia Gay Harden) may be hiding some information.  A possible murder weapon invites some curious questions. There’s reason to question Katie’s boyfriend, and Davey’s odd behavior combined with his childhood trauma raises eyebrows as he was one of the last men to see Katie alive.

The less you know about Mystic River the better, but this engrossing cast which earned Oscars for Penn and Robbins, plus a nomination for Harden, is not the only stand out feature.  This film is one of Clint Eastwood’s best directing efforts; definitely one of my favorites.  

First, Eastwood hides many of his characters in dark shadows so the viewer never forgets that all these people have pasts they regret or would rather not resurface.  Sometimes, you hauntingly recognize the silhouettes of Sean Penn and Tim Robbins, each for different and unnerving reasons. Eastwood notably shoots himself this way often when he’s in front of his camera (Unforgiven, Sudden Impact, Million Dollar Baby).  It’s a brilliant photographic strategy that will make you fear or empathize with his flawed protagonists.

Second, Clint Eastwood shoots much of the Boston neighborhood with wide overhead shots in the daytime.  Interiors offer little light no matter the time of day.  Exteriors present the multi floor homes which are easy to see and showcase a labyrinth of crevices, yards and blocks where activity occurs.  

While the title of Lehane’s mystery is hardly spoken until a series of shocking revelations occur at the end, Eastwood ensures the setting of this Boston Irish populace is given much attention.  The more closely located these homes are up against one another, the less apt that any of the residents can truly see what’s going on under their nose.  These people live on top of each other with no room to spread out.  Their nearsightedness is practically blinding.

Furthermore, Eastwood composed the morose soundtrack for this piece. The director seems to speak to the audience because nothing good will likely arrive for any of these folks who grew up together like the generations before them.  Even a colorful Red Sox cap worn by Davey does not offer much cheer or Boston pride.  Eastwood’s musical compositions paint a modern-day setting encased in unimaginable heartache.  

Mystic River is not an easy film to watch.  Yet it’s not gory.  It’s not scary.  It’s the internal struggles of these characters that’s hard to imagine or observe. On the surface Lehane’s story seems reminiscent of most any other crime drama or Law & Order episode of the week.  The challenge is to watch these masterful performances, especially from Sean Penn, Tim Robbins and Marcia Gay Harden.  

We’ve seen moments where the father comes upon the crime scene of a murdered child.  However, Sean Penn delivers this staple with raw, unbearable heartache.  This actor invests his soul into the moment and reminds any one of us, whether we are a parent or child, of how wrenching it is to even imagine losing a loved one to senseless violence.  If I had to ever experience an episode like this, it might just take the entire police force to hold me down too.

Robbins and Harden are husband and wife, who get in over their heads when incidents of surprise occur.  Harden is especially ripped apart with what she knows and what she suspects.  Robbins embraces an inner child who has never outgrown a trauma that stubbornly stays attached to him, even if he’s a loving father.

As difficult as Mystic River is to watch, I’ll return to it on repeat because this cast and crew are at the top of their game.  Dennis Lehane has written other Boston crime stories (Gone Baby Gone with the film adaptation directed by Ben Affleck), particularly involving children, and he recycles his characters for future tales.  To my knowledge, I do not believe he’s ever written a sequel to Mystic River, but I’d love to see what happens to these people after the events of this film unfolded.  

Everything is revealed in Mystic River, except what happens next and I’m dying to know.  

JUROR #2

By Marc S. Sanders

Since Unforgiven, director Clint Eastwood has sought out projects that have an intrinsic message or a question of morality.  That film seemed to channel the second half of his career that has spanned over a half a century.  Before, many of his films sensationalized the quiet killer or the silent tough guy with the six shooter gunplay and cracking fists. After the movie won Best Picture in 1992, movies like A Perfect World, Letters From Iwo Jima and Mystic River were not developed for simply the sake of escapist entertainment.  There was something to ponder after the stories wrapped up. 

Eastwood’s latest film, and supposedly his last, is Juror #2 and to the best of my recollection, I believe it is the first time the actor/director brings his experience to a courtroom.  Some of his more recent efforts have been questionable and not up to his best standards (Cry Macho), but Juror #2 is one of the best films he’s directed, and perhaps the best picture I’ve seen this year so far. 

Nicholas Hoult plays Justin Kemp, an expectant father with his wife Allison (Zoey Deutch).  He has just been selected for jury duty in a Savannah, Georgia courthouse.  Justin is Juror #2.  The case centers on trying a man for the murder of his girlfriend who was found bloodied and bruised in a rocky, wooded canal beneath a bridge.  Earlier that night, the couple were witnessed at a local watering hole having a drunken argument.  She walked off in the dead of night in the pouring rain.  The man was seen going after her.

Coincidentally, Justin was at this same bar.  He drove off in his car around the same time, but he accidentally hit what he thought was a deer.  The incident was hardly considered again until the opening statements were heard in court a year later.  Suddenly, the young man is putting two and two together and questioning if in fact he hit a deer.  Now Juror #2 embarks on a test of morality while sometimes adopting a Twelve Angry Men narrative.  Justin might appear as noble as Henry Fonda, but is he the culpable one?

Juror #2 assembles a good cast of characters.  Toni Collette is the prosecuting attorney, Faith Killebrew, who is also campaigning for an important election.  Collette has that deep southern twang, but the earth tone suits she wears along with her firm body language exude a tough exterior.  You believe Collete’s character is compartmentalizing this trial away from her chances of election.  The opposing attorney, Eric Resnick (Chris Messina, who I’d like to see in more films), is apt to imply the true motive behind Faith’s pursuit of trying his client.  Is it for personal gain, because Eric truly believes his client is innocent.  The evidence and facts add up to reasonable doubt.

Eastwood, with a script by Jonathan A Abrams, places his film in a variety of on set locations around Savannah.  Personally, it was fun recognizing certain areas following a recent weekend getaway my wife and I took to the storied town.  There are flashback pieces to the night in question at the bar and the crime scene.  Beautiful locales within the historic squares of Savannah are also covered in addition to the river boats near the docks.  Much of the picture occurs in the jury room where the group of twelve deliberate.  Leslie Bibb is charming as the Jury Foreperson.  However, Justin tries to find ways to allow his peers to consider other possibilities.  The only one on his side is a well-cast J.K. Simmons.  Simmons has the deep crackling voice that absorbs you into what he’s believes versus everyone else in the room.  Against him are jurors played by Cedric Yarbough and Chikako Fukuyama, also well cast.  What seems like an easy wrap up case of declaring a guilty verdict turns into a dead heat of 10 to 2, and eventually even Faith the prosecutor is personally questioning what occurred.

Juror #2 is very well cast film.  None of the actors are stand out marquee names, which works as an advantage.  They all appear common.  They don’t look like movie stars and thus it is easier to buy them in their roles.  After seeing the film at the 2024 AFI Film Festival, the gentleman sitting next to me had to surrender to a friendly debate we had.  He tried to point out plot holes in the film but I had an answer for each element he questioned.  Juror #2 is solid in its storytelling.  The motives that characters like Justin and Faith and even the respective jurors stand by all have a validity to their lines of thinking.  Therefore, Abrams’ script works well at arguing two sides of the same coin and the picture concludes with an opportunity to think about it long after it’s over.  Hanging threads to solid conundrums are a favorite factor of mine.

A story currently circulating in the trade papers is that Juror #2 is only being released in fifty theatres nationwide.  This is Warner Brothers’ decision and it’s a terrible shame.  When the debate of streaming versus exclusive theatrical releases is continuously being put into question, this is a sure sign of movie theatres eventually becoming obsolete. What a pleasure it was to watch Clint Eastwood’s film among crowd at the famed Grauman’s Chinese Theater (aka TCL Theatre) in Hollywood, California.  The audience was completely engaged, applauding as names appeared in the credits and laughing at the intended cues provided by the director and screenwriter.  To see a film, any film in a theatre, is a unique experience when it can be embraced among a crowd of movie lovers. 

If Robert Zemeckis’ Here can be released nationwide in thousands of venues, there is no reason why a well-made Clint Eastwood picture can not have the same treatment.  Movie houses were never designed to offer only the latest Marvel or Transformers film.

My hope is that the ongoing, widespread positive reception that Eastwood’s final film is receiving is noticed thereby building some traction for Warner Brothers to consider going wider with exposure.  At the very least, the famed studio owes it to arguably its most prized filmmaker and actor.  Time after time, the WB logo appears just ahead of Eastwood’s own Malpaso studio credit.  There is no Warner Brothers without Clint Eastwood and to close out his legendary career commands a bigger recognition. 

At the very least, Warner Brothers needs to recollect what occurred with a film like The Shawshank Redemption.  No one saw it in theatres and it had a terrible initial box office.  Some argue it was the title that turned people off.  Maybe.  Yet, think about the admiration that movie continues to garner thirty years later.  Warner Brothers needs to pay more attention to the quality they possess in their library.

At any rate, my hat off to Mr. Clint Eastwood – a pioneer filmmaker and one of the last survivors of a filmmaking yesteryear.  He began directing in 1971 with the thriller Play Misty For Me, and at age 94, he has only enhanced his meticulous dedication to drawing a crowd in while directing sensational casts.  Along with Harrison Ford and Steven Spielberg, I have followed Clint Eastwood’s career all my life.  Beginning with seeing Dirty Harry at age 8, I grew up on his imposing stature and his reliance on silent performances.  The first R rated film I saw in theatres was Sudden Impact.  Beyond being a Producer, Director and Actor, he is also a film composer.  Clint Eastwood is one of the few multi-talented people within the history of Hollywood, but no one compares to him.  You’re likely never to hear someone say that guy reminds me of Clint Eastwood, because there is only one Clint Eastwood. 

I am only blessed because I still have yet to see every one of his films.  If Juror #2 is his last effort, it’s a noble and solid ending to his run.  Yet, I’m glad I know I still have more to uncover in Clint Eastwood’s celebrated career.

NOTE: The murder victim is portrayed by Francesca Eastwood, Clint’s daughter.  As well, look for a blink and miss it moment where the director makes his way down a staircase while JK Simmons and Toni Collette share a scene together.  Eastwood is full bearded but there is no doubt that’s the guy.

PERSONAL NOTE: On the closing night of the 2024 AFI Film Festival, I had the pleasure to meet actors Cedric Yarbaugh, Amy Aquino and Zele Avradopoulos following the film and it was such a treat to hear how much they appreciated Mr. Eastwood as a director. All three were consistent in their admiration for the filmmaker describing him as patient, quiet, and a master of his craft who continuously worked with the same crew on one film after another. It was a real treat to chat with them. I also saw Nicholas Hoult walk by me three times and because I simply didn’t recognize him, I regret not asking him for a quick chat and photo as well. Yet, he and Toni Collette introduced the film which included a quick impersonation of Clint on the phone offering the role to him. Everyone was positively charming. This was such a memorable moviegoing experience. I’ll treasure the memory always.

MILLION DOLLAR BABY

By Marc S. Sanders

Clint Eastwood has one of the most remarkable careers in Hollywood history.  As his appearance has aged, so have the roles he’s occupied. He’s got these long lines that run down his cheekbones and across his forehead that compliment his signature scowl and white hair.  These facial features lend to a background in many of the characters he’s portrayed over the last thirty years ranging from a “Frank” in In The Line Of Fire to a “Frank” in Million Dollar Baby, his second film to be a recipient Oscars for Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Supporting Actor.  A Best Actress Oscar was also garnered for Hilary Swank. 

Swank won her second Oscar as Maggie Fitzgerald, a backwoods product of a hillbilly upbringing, who only lives for one dream and that is to be a championship boxer.  When she’s not waitressing to collect coins and singles for tips, she is spending every waking moment at Frank’s boxing gym, The Hit Pit.  Maggie keeps to herself by punching a bag, but she is persistent at convincing a closed off Frank to become her trainer.  Frank has no interest in training a girl, but maybe there’s more to why he’s reluctant to take her on.  The lines on Eastwood’s face seem to metaphorically hint at a challenging past.

Frank’s best friend is Eddie, or otherwise known as “Scrap Iron,” played by Morgan Freeman in a very long overdue Oscar winning role.  Some may argue that Freeman was bestowed with an award for such an illustrious career.  That’s fine.  I still believe that this performance is just as worthy as his other celebrated works (Driving Miss Daisy, The Shawshank Redemption).  Eddie lives in a small room in the gym and manages the place by day.  Frank is a crank towards Eddie, but they’re the best of pals. Frank carries the responsibility for Eddie losing an eye in the ring while under his coaching. 

Frank also suffers from the loss of a relationship with a daughter.  He writes her but the letters come back “return to sender.”

Million Dollar Baby is a boxing movie but the film, written by Paul Haggis, serves a much deeper and intimate purpose.  Eastwood, as director, gives beautiful and sensitive focus towards a relationship between Maggie and Frank.  Maggie has an ungrateful family with a mother (Margo Martindale) who spits the gift of a purchased home back in Maggie’s face.  Hilary Swank offers silent, yet agonizing hurt at the rejection and Haggis writes a simple line for her to share with her coach by asserting “You’re all I have, Boss.”  In turn, without his daughter, Maggie is all Frank has.  Their commonality is “Scrap Iron” who is there to offer insight into what Maggie needs from Frank, and what Frank needs from Maggie.  As well, Scrap even suggests that Maggie seeks out another manager to salvage both of their souls.

Haggis and Eastwood go even further with the setting of The Hit Pit.  A mentally disabled kid who proudly identifies himself as Danger (Jay Baruchel) relies on the gym for his own personal glorification.  Danger is a kid with no experience and no business being a boxer, but he glorifies himself as the next all-time great champion while the other boxers (Anthony Mackie, Michael Pena) tease and jeer him.  Frank hems and haws at Scrap Iron to get rid of him.  Danger doesn’t belong here.  Scrap Iron just lets the kid come and go.  The two old guys are both protecting Danger.  One doesn’t want to see another kid get permanently injured, but the other is well aware this kid has nowhere to go.

Million Dollar Baby is a film of acceptance when every other direction leads to rejection for its characters.  Every main character is destined to serve a purpose for another character.  The surprisingly heartbreaking third act is an ultimate test for a dare-to-dream fighter and her coach, however. 

A grizzled old trainer like Frank will laugh in the face of one of God’s ministers with his daily visits to Mass to hide the guilt he feels responsible for, while a girl boxer who wasn’t even much of a fighter until Frank reluctantly accepted her is forced to question how useful she is for herself or Frank or Scrap Iron after she’s been trained to be an elite.

There is so much to appreciate of the sins and curses that weigh on Frank, Scrap Iron and Maggie.  Accompanied with their anguish is a quiet, tearful piano soundtrack composed by Clint Eastwood, himself.  To complete the picture is the dark shadowed cinematography from Tom Stern.  So often, Eastwood with Stern shoots the cast in silhouette. A narrow beam of white light points down on Maggie punching the bag with earnest, but no rhythm.  It could also be Scrap Iron looking from a window upon his friends who accept the pain they live with.  The characters show only a small portion of profile while they are involved in their character.  You’ll catch a glimpse of Frank’s chiseled lines, or Maggie’s black eye and broken nose, or the rough texture of Scrap Iron’s dark complexion.  Other moments, Eastwood follows himself walking through the front door of Frank’s home to find another letter on the floor coming back to him, unopened, returned to sender.  The pain never gets numb.  The darkness of Stern’s photography is haunting, and yet it’s blanketed as comfort for these lonely souls.

Morgan Freeman as Scrap Iron narrates this bedtime story, and we eventually learn who he’s actually speaking to.  It’s the last element of the picture needed to complete Million Dollar Baby.  Freeman is the best candidate for any kind of voiceover.  He only draws attention to these people, in this beat-up old boxing gym, who never acquired acceptance from who they once thought should matter most in their lives. 

This film takes place in and out of a boxing ring.  However, it’s not so much about the sport as it is about surviving through personal battles that’ll never be won. 

Million Dollar Baby is one of the best films Clint Eastwood directed as well as performed in, and it belongs at the top of Freeman and Swank’s career best as well.  It’s just a beautiful piece.

THE MULE

By Marc S. Sanders

Earl Stone (Clint Eastwood) was once considered one of the best horticulturalists in the country.  In fact, he devoted more of his time to raising the most unique flowers and plants that anyone could find than he ever did to his wife, Mary (Dianne Weist) or his daughter, Iris (Alison Eastwood).  He even missed Iris’ wedding, to attend an award reception in his honor.  At age 90, though, Earl is quickly forgotten by his ardent fans thanks to the ease of ordering horticultural specimens off the internet.  There’s no longer value in meeting the maker.  Just as Earl never took account for his family like he did with his beloved occupation.

Clint Eastwood portrays Earl Stone in The Mule, which he also produced and directed.  Written by the Nick Schenk, this film is one of Eastwood’s best directing efforts.  It is inspired by a real life story where the forced to retire horticulturalist finds himself working as a drug mule for the Mexican cartel.  Earl is corralled into making easy money by driving a duffel bag across country.   At the destination, he leaves his truck and returns shortly thereafter to find large amounts of cash in his glove compartment for his trek.  

Earl is so naive to all this activity though that he doesn’t even know how to use the various cell phones the dealers give him for each new journey.  It’s only on the third drive that he opens the bag to find kilos of cocaine.  

Earl is a perfect front for the cartel.  The Don (Andy Garcia) sees the value of this camouflage.  Who’d ever suspect a frail ninety year old Korean War veteran, who’s never gotten a traffic ticket, of doing their bidding? Certainly, the sharp witted FBI agents (Bradley Cooper, Michael Peña) could only get as close as determining this mule is driving a black pickup truck.  Beyond that they are at a loss, despite the leeway and patience awarded to them by their superior (Laurence Fishburn).

This film boasts an outstanding cast from all four corners of its various stories.

The Mule works so well because of Eastwood, the filmmaker.  He offers thrilling overhead highway shots (with no car chases) of Earl’s pickup truck running parallel to a helicopter as well as how the cartel escorts follow behind.  There’s humor in how impatient they get with the old codger by how slow he drives and the old time music he listens and sings along to.  Wait until you see two tough armed Mexican cartel members relent to singing along to Dean Martin.  Eastwood cuts and stages these hilarious moments that are most welcome, even if they had no business being in a story like this.

Clint Eastwood’s performance is really shining through.  You recognize his signature scowl and his heightened walk despite his frail physicality.  The Earl Stone character is so well drawn and Eastwood, as director and especially actor, answers every demand of the script sharing celebrated scenes with Andy Garcia who treasures his prize mule and gifts him a couple of women to make him feel comfortable.  Other moments allow wonderful exchanges between him and Dianne Weist as Mary, Earl’s estranged and very ill ex-wife.

The Mule is a crime picture, sometimes lighthearted and on occasion heavily serious.  Yet, it’s also a well-drawn out family drama.  Earl is grateful for the rewards that come with being a drug mule.  He’s generous to his friends.  He modestly treats himself.  He lends attention to his adult and loving granddaughter (Taissa Farmiga).  He accepts Iris’ disregard for him.  Yet, none of these gestures buy back or exchange any time he’s lost with the family he never got to know.

The film plays like two different movies until finally a sacrifice must be made to appease one part of Earl’s life versus the other.  I almost wished for everything new that came upon Earl in his late life to remain on that trajectory.  Yet, like the best stories, interference will eventually get in the way.  It’s that much more crushing when Earl’s new pattern is upended.  Still, that’s what makes for good drama.

I highly recommend seeking out Clint Eastwood’s The Mule. It surprised me in the best ways possible.  I did not expect to be so impressed.  Eastwood continues to be an inspiration with the persistent longevity of his talents as an actor, a screen legend, and a gifted filmmaker.  The Mule shows he’s as sharp as he ever was before in some of the best films of his decades long career. 

AMERICAN SNIPER (2014)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTOR: Clint Eastwood
CAST: Bradley Cooper, Sienna Miller, Luke Grimes, Jake McDorman
MY RATING: 9/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 72% Certified Fresh

PLOT: Real-life Navy S.E.A.L. sniper Chris Kyle becomes the most lethal sniper in American history during four tours of duty in Iraq, but he finds it difficult to leave the war behind when he finally returns home.


I once called Katherine Bigelow’s award-winning The Hurt Locker the Deer Hunter for the Iraq War generation.  Having just seen Clint Eastwood’s masterful American Sniper for the first time, I must now amend my statement.  American Sniper presents its story concisely, almost tersely, states the facts of the matter, and leaves the audience to draw its own conclusions when the credits roll.  For myself, I was once again struck by the sacrifices of those men and women who have ever made, and will ever make, the choice to serve their country, for whatever reasons.

Chris Kyle’s reasons are made clear at the outset.  30-year-old Kyle (Bradley Cooper) is a skilled cowboy and rodeo rider when he decides to enlist in the military after seeing footage of the embassy bombings in 1998.  In a marvelously edited prologue (resembling a Scorsese film), we see Kyle’s father impress upon a school-age Kyle how people are either sheep, wolves, or sheepdogs.  Wolves attack the sheep, and the sheepdogs protect the sheep.  Kyle has lived his entire life with a sheepdog mentality and badly wants to do his part to protect his country against what he feels are the forces of evil.

Kyle enlists in the Navy S.E.A.L.s and, after a brutal training process, becomes a skilled sniper.  Shortly after graduation, he meets and falls in love with Taya (Sienna Miller).  The abbreviated exposition of their courtship and marriage contains little details that give a ring of authenticity that even The Deer Hunter lacks at times.  (After their first meeting in a bar, for example, Taya has to run outside and throw up after doing one too many shots.  Kyle follows and discreetly holds her hair back, as every gentleman should.  It’s the kind of scene you would normally see in a mid-level rom-com, but it feels as real as an autobiography.)

Kyle’s and Taya’s relationship at home is an important factor in the film, but the bulk of the story shows us Kyle putting his unique skills to use in Iraq, where he is sent shortly after the 9/11 attacks.  These scenes belong in some kind of war movie Hall of Fame.  Kyle’s first kills occur when he has to make a command decision whether or not to shoot a young Iraqi boy holding a grenade and running towards a US convoy.  The scene takes on an even more horrific dimension when the mother tries to pick up where her young son failed.  This horror is echoed in triplicate in a later scene when an even younger boy approaches an abandoned rocket launcher and appears ready to fire it at American troops.

Kyle goes on to much more “conventional” warfare later on (including a virtual duel between himself and another similarly skilled enemy sniper), but it’s scenes like the ones I mention above that elevate American Sniper into a masterpiece.  Watching them, I could not help but remember that this movie is based on a real person who went to real war zones during his lifetime.  I have no idea whether Kyle really did make those choices in real life, but the idea remains: whether Kyle did or not, it’s a foregone conclusion that someone had to make similar decisions at one time or another, not just in the Iraq War, but in other wars, many wars, ALL wars.  (I was perversely reminded of another superior war film, also based on fact, Jarhead, where the main character is also a sniper, except he never gets to fire his weapon in combat.  My respect for that character is no less profound.)

Speaking for myself, I don’t know if I have it in me to make that kind of call.  I have nothing but admiration and respect for those people who are making those calls every day in wartime, who are asked to put their lives and mental health on the line and do their duty no matter what.

Kyle’s compulsion to be a protector leads to his decision to become part of the teams “clearing” houses on the ground, as opposed to being the “overwatch” who protects them from the rooftops.  He sees too many squads being cut down by enemy soldiers inside the houses where he can’t see them from above.  “If I can’t see them, I can’t shoot them.”  One of his comrades disagrees with this decision.

“All these guys?  They know your name, and they feel invincible with you up there.”
“They’re not.”
“They are if they think they are.”

His decision puts him in even greater danger than before, but he can’t help himself.  Every death that he feels he could have prevented haunts him.  In another echo of another shattering war film, I was reminded of Oskar Schindler’s last scene in Schindler’s List when he breaks down thinking of how many more Jews he could have saved, instead of focusing on the ones he did save.  It’s impossible to say exactly how many lives Chris Kyle may have saved with his actions in Iraq, but in his mind, he was just doing the right thing, not the heroic thing, so he never felt comfortable accepting the title bestowed upon him by his grateful comrades: “The Legend.”

American Sniper is also very careful to depict the cost Kyle faced as the result of his job.  For one, the Iraqi insurgents put a $180,000 bounty on his head, making his job even more dangerous than it already was.  For another, he witnesses some things firsthand that would give Quentin Tarantino nightmares.  At one point, he tracks down an Iraqi enforcer nicknamed “The Butcher” who uses a drill to punish anyone who collaborates with American soldiers.  When Kyle raids his compound, he finds a freezer full of the Butcher’s “souvenirs.”  This is all on top of the various times he sees his teammates cut down by enemy fire, sometimes right in front of him.

The other cost comes during the brief periods at home between tours.  He loves his wife and children, but he finds it impossible to share the details of what happened to him in Iraq.  This reticence threatens his marriage to the point where Taya tells him flat out: “If you leave again [for another tour of duty], I don’t think we’ll be here when you get back.”  This kind of plot point is hardly new, but again, there is a ring of truth to it in this movie that makes it much more poignant than it normally is.  Kyle’s internal code can’t allow him to let someone else go to a war zone and do a job that he is eminently more qualified than anyone else to do.  “I have to serve my country.”  And that’s that.

(The film does have one drawback that compels me to score it as a “9” instead of a “10.”  There are scenes later in the film depicting more of Kyle’s troubles at home and as he speaks to a psychiatrist who recommends he go down to the VA and meet with disabled veterans as a way of “saving” soldiers without being in combat.  While these scenes are invaluable in terms of shedding even more light on Kyle’s character, even this late in the film, I did feel like there could have been a little more time spent with Kyle and those veterans so we could flesh that issue out just a little more.  There’s much more to it than could possibly be explored in just the last fifteen minutes of a movie.  I’m not saying it should have become Coming Home, but…that’s my opinion.)

In the event you don’t know Chris Kyle’s ultimate fate, I won’t spoil it here.  I had forgotten about it, and when the movie sprung it on me, it was as surprising as any other plot twist I can think of.  American Sniper proved to me, as if it needed proving again, that the people in our armed forces, especially those in combat zones, face unthinkable decisions, sometimes on a daily basis.  The morality of those decisions can, and will, be debated from now until such time (God willing) that armed forces are no longer necessary in this world.  This movie doesn’t pass that kind of judgement.  It merely says, “Here is what happened.  What do you think about it?”  How you answer that question is what the movie was really about.

PLAY MISTY FOR ME

By Marc S. Sanders

Before Fatal Attraction and countless other stalker/possessive lover thrillers that continue to monopolize all kinds of entertainment mediums, there was Clint Eastwood’s directorial debut, Play Misty For Me.  Watching it for the first time in modern day, I can say that it pushes all the standard buttons of this kind of thriller formula.  The over enthusiasm of the mentally disturbed stalker, the uninvited appearances at inopportune times, the late night phone calls, and of course the knife wielding.  Nevertheless, I remain impressed with Eastwood’s interpretation.

Eastwood also headlines the cast as a late-night disc jockey named David.  Each night he gets a call from a devoted fan named Evelyn (Jessica Walter) requesting he play the jazzy tune, Misty by Erroll Garner.  Included in Dave’s regular programming are stanzas from poetry that he reads to his listeners and endorsements of favorite hang outs and bars that he frequents within the breezy coastal town of Carmel-By-The-Sea, California.  (Years later, Clint Eastwood would be elected Mayor of this community.)  Naturally, Evelyn shows up at one such regular hangout and the two have a one night stand under the presumption of no strings attached.  Of course, there would not be much of a film if Evelyn adhered to that policy.  Thus, the pattern begins.

Evelyn follows Dave around town.  She shows up uninvited at his house ready to prepare a steak dinner.  She’s knocking on his door in the middle of the night, naked under an overcoat.  There are phone calls along with disturbing, unexpected outbursts as well.  Complicating matters for Evelyn is that Dave is on his way to rekindling a romance with a former flame named Tobie (Donna Mills).  Then, it really gets frightening.

For a first time director, Clint Eastwood really shows some expert skill in Play Misty For Me.  The film opens with an overhead shot above the cliffs adjacent to the coastline, and then the camera circles around through the sky and finally zooms in on Eastwood standing on a veranda looking out to the sea.  It’s a glorious scenic shot and the director carries this theme throughout the course of the film.  A locale that impresses me is The Sardine Factory.  It is where Dave and Evelyn first meet, and Eastwood’s friend, mentor and often director, Don Siegel makes an appearance as a bartender.  The Sardine Factory is still there to this very day. 

Eastwood seems to offer a tourist guide and a photographic devotion for this quiet little town, and it contrasts well with the disturbing storyline.  Carmel-By-The-Sea seems like a comfortable and trusting area to live.  Therefore, it is all the more easy for an intruder to lay claim within the unguarded setting.  This film might be from 1971, over fifty years ago, but it makes me want to go visit.  We are treated to live footage at the Monterey Jazz Festival, and it does not overstay its welcome.  Eastwood’s film work is gorgeous throughout the whole picture. Particularly during a midway music sequence featuring Roberta Flack’s The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face, playing over footage of Dave and Tobie spending time and making love together. 

Jessica Walter is especially good in her role as the menace to this man’s livelihood.  She’s alluring and relaxing with her first encounter with Dave.  Then, she’s upended by the disruption and unwelcome halt of her romantic tryst and outbursts come from out of nowhere.  Eastwood lives up to the thriller characteristics of the film by the way he shoots Walter in close ups that appear with no build up.  He includes shots of her face and brunette hair in nothing but darkness with an agonizing scream.  It’ll shiver you.  It just makes Evelyn’s appearances even more shocking. 

The film that comes to mind when I watch Play Misty For Me, is Adrian Lyne’s Fatal Attraction from 1987.  I think that would be the go-to response for most viewers today.  However, it would be unfair for me to say I know what happens next.  Yes, I did know where everything was leading to.  However, Eastwood’s film is the pioneering installment, released years ahead of the other film.  I’ve always had mixed feelings about Fatal Attraction honestly.  I can’t take my eyes off it, especially because of the performances from Michael Douglas, Glenn Close and Anne Archer, but I frown heavily on the slasher ending that was pasted on to film.  Glenn Close did too.   Now that I’ve seen Eastwood’s movie, it astounds me how much Lyne’s picture lifts from the 1971 thriller.  Both films incorporate references to Madame Butterfly.  There’s a suicide attempt for attention.  There are phone calls and knocks on the door in the middle of the night.  There’s another lover who may be in harm’s way.  There’s an abundance of similarities in both films.

I have to wonder.  Should I now go back and revise my review of Adrian Lyne’s film?