True Grit, Revisted.

The original True Grit (1969) is, like all films, a piece of it's own time. Only more so. It has a successful pop/country performer with rather limited acting ability, and of course, an older star of mammoth proportions, then in the twilight. And a spunky girl. It has a particular kind of humor that indicated that this was NOT Peckinpah, or Leone, but rather a film intended for anything but an audience that might be appreciative of the understated, the subtle or the ambiguous. Well, leave to the Coen brothers to correct any faults of an earlier time.


The Coens True Grit, is, in terms of screenplay, very closely related to Henry Hathaway's 1969 film, based on Charles Portis' 1968 novel. It differs from the John Wayne/Kim Darby vehicle very little in terms of the events, the dialogue and plot, but the colors, natural settings and delivery are the most significant alterations. The Coens have made a lovely looking film, where the landscape has a presence. This is a nice homage to Wayne, whose own mythic status was so linked to John Ford's use of Western scenery.

Jeff Bridge's Rooster Cogburn manages to be both iconic and innovative. He's a more talkative character, and including his (extensive) reminiscences frees the this version of Cogburn from the one dimensionality of Wayne's later work. Much praise has already been written for Halley Steinfeld's performance as Mattie Ross, and it's certainly well deserved. I think most of my dislike for the '69 True Grit is based on Kim Darby. She turned an idiosyncratic character into a mannered, Hollywood-ized creation that has no historical context. Ms. Steinfed and the Coen's have done the opposite; they have attempted to get into the mind of a mid-nineteenth American fourteen year old, in a time when Shakespeare and the Bible actually influenced contemporary speech. The film has the wonderful addition of including the adult Mattie Ross, unlike the earlier film. Seeing how a determined girl grew into a woman who is obviously prickly, stubborn, and opinionated is much more satisfying than the sentimental ending used in the other version.


The supporting cast all do a good job, Matt Damon's La Boeuf is mercifully less annoying than Glen Campbell's, although at times, his loquaciousness indicates such foolishness, that it then follows that some brave act must be shown as a counter balance. Barry Pepper's Lucky Ned Pepper sounds so much like his predecessor in the role, Robert Duvall, that one almost needs to look twice. (I like it too that the character's/actor's names in common must have appealed to the Coen weirdness.)

All in all, the Coen's have made the rare remake that improves on the original, without too much of a departure from the source. It is by no means an ignoble effort, and for those who appreciate the Western genre, the Coen's restraint (yes, restraint) is a nice effort at preserving this sometimes neglected (but never forgotten) subject matter.