Source Code (2011)

Source Code is an entertaining science-fiction thriller that remembers to get its appeal from the fiction side. The science aspect is preposterous, but it serves as a gateway into a tense and thought-provoking story. Source Code not only raises the pulse, but raises issues similar to those raised by Inception and The Adjustment Bureau. It’s the sort of sharp little mind bender that once bore the Rod Serling stamp.

The movie begins with a man (Jake Gyllenhaal) awakening from a nap on a commuter train to Chicago. This is unsettling to him, since he believed he was serving a tour in Afghanistan. He is sure his name is Captain Colter Stevens. So why does the cute woman across from him (Michelle Monaghan) keep calling him Sean? As he tries to get to the bottom of this, the train is the victim of a bombing, and the man dies.

And comes to in a small, military-looking compartment. On a screen before him is a woman in uniform called Godwin (Vera Farmiga), who does in fact address him as Capt. Stevens. It turns out that the train is an invented reality, cobbled together from the memories of actual train passengers, who actually died in an actual bombing. Stevens has been chosen to enter into this reality in the place of a passenger and locate the bomber, who has threatened to strike again. If Stevens can find the bomber, this future attack can be averted. The invented reality, called the Source Code, comprises the last eight minutes of the train’s run. Eight minutes is apparently all you get—but once you’re sucking memories out of dead people’s brains and inserting soldiers into them, I suppose one number is as good as another.

What follows is something like an action-film version of Groundhog Day, with Stevens reliving the same eight minutes over and over until he can ferret out the bomber. Along the way he also tries to figure out how exactly he got into that compartment—and begins to develop feelings for the people on the train. If he finds the bomber, he can save them, can’t he? No, Goodwin explains – the Source Code is just a recreation; it’s in the past. But if Stevens can himself change that recreation (prevent the train bombing), how past is it, really?

Source Code’s director is Duncan Jones, whose first film, Moon, also featured a man trying to work out the kinks of an implausible reality. Both Jones and writer Ben Ripley are smart enough to tread lightly over the scientific background of the Source Code and focus on its emotional impact. The movie operates in the fine old sci-fi tradition of “What if?” What if you could try again and again to get things right? What if possibilities exist in something more than the abstract, and what if your choices mean a lot more than you think at the time? And isn’t it worth doing something a little illogical if you can make a real difference, even to yourself? The questions matter here more than the science that props them up. Source Code, like many a mind-bending film, is more emotionally than logically satisfying. I found it more meaningful afterwards to talk about what the movie explored than to talk about its plot.

This is Gyllenhaal’s movie to carry, and he does so ably. The actor’s natural likability serves him well as he takes Stevens through the steps from befuddled everyman to fate-fighter on a mission, and he is believable as both victim of circumstance and hero. Monaghan likewise contributes an effortless appeal. Her character may not be given much depth, but we see why Stevens would want to save her. Farmiga creates a more human version of the Military Suit than is often seen in these situations. The always dependable Jeffrey Wright also is on hand as the resident scientist, who explains the quantum mumbo-jumbo around the Source Code with enough conviction to help suspend disbelief (at least for a while).

There isn’t much filler to Source Code. It gets into the story, tells it, and takes it to its end with little fluff or fanfare. The repeated situations are not allowed to become too tiresome (sometimes we just see Stevens reporting on an attempt), and what drama there is arises from what we already know. The film probably wants to be more profound than it actually is, but in some ways that just ups the emotional ante. Source Code is a competently-made thriller with a little bit of thought behind it. Given some of the lackluster fare common in the action market these days, there are many more frustrating ways to spend a little time. Just ask Colter Stevens…

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2 (2011)

And here, at last, is the end. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2 brings to a close the ambitious and beloved Harry Potter franchise, the big-screen incarnation of J. K. Rowling’s unimaginably popular bestselling books. The Potter films have become a cultural phenomenon unlike anything else, a strange hybrid of book and screen and richly realized world and fan affection. As cultural and social happenings, they are amazing. As films, they have mostly been less so. The refrain cannot be avoided here: No, this movie is not as “good,” not as rich, not as moving as its printed source. No Potter movie has been. But Deathly Hallows 2 does manage to work its own kind of movie magic. The series goes out on a high note, with a film which is appropriately exciting and involving, and even a little cathartic.

That this is “part 2” is no joke. The film literally takes up where its predecessor left off. The villainous Lord Voldemort (Ralph Fiennes, still sans nose) has acquired the Elder Wand, the most powerful tool known to wizards, and is intent on using it to track down and kill Harry Potter. Meanwhile, Harry (Daniel Radcliffe, now old enough for action-hero stubble) and his trusty pals Ron Weasley (Rupert Grint) and Hermione Granger (Emma Watson) are racing to discover and destroy the magical horcruxes, enchanted objects in which Voldemort has stashed bits of his soul. If all the horcruxes are destroyed, Voldemort has no protection against ordinary death, which the good-guy wizards would like him to experience. Harry, however, is short on allies: the Voldemort-resisting Order of the Phoenix has been decimated, and his old haven, Hogwarts School, is in the icy grip of the distasteful Severus Snape (Alan Rickman). The plot is thus a fairly straightforward quest: can Harry and his friends discover and remove the horcruxes before Voldemort finds them?

How the quest unfolds is old news to fans of the books, and is best left unrevealed to those few moviegoers who have not read them. It is to the filmmakers’ credit that Deathly Hallows 2 gets in the necessary information to make the quest understandable while still keeping the pace taut enough to get the pulse racing. Screenwriter Steve Kloves (all Potter movies but one) and director David Yates (the last three films) know their way around this material by now. Gone are the long slow stretches of doubt-filled wandering that plagued Deathly Hallows 1. This is an action movie through and through, with set pieces to rival anything served up by Mr. Bond or the proto-Avengers lately. A roller-coaster ride through the depths of a magical bank and the final battle in Hogwarts are particularly well-done. As always, the Potter films work best when they diverge from the books a little, and Deathly Hallows 2 does so in a few well-timed places – most notably Harry’s final showdown with Voldemort. The speech Rowling gives Harry at that point makes for great reading, but would be a snoozer onscreen; the more kinetic approach here is the right one for a film.

All the usual Potter gang of actors is here again, including some we haven’t seen in a while. Radcliffe, Grint, and Watson have all literally grown into their roles, and they are in fine form here. Of course they outstripped their characters in age a long time ago, and a refreshing aspect of the movies’ graduation to full-action mode is that Radcliffe, et. al. can drop the pretense of being schoolkids in any way. These are young adults on a serious mission, each with their strengths – and that goes for the actors as well as their characters. I doubt any of them are destined to be acting heavyweights – but they know these people by now, and gamely see through their fates to the end. Stop and consider how lucky the franchise has been to be able to keep all three leads for eight films over so many years.

The films have also been lucky in the supporting starpower they’ve attracted. Almost all of the high-watt actors who’ve been on board get curtain calls here: Fiennes, Maggie Smith, Robbie Coltrane, Jim Broadbent, Gary Oldman, David Thewlis, Helena Bonham Carter, John Hurt, Jason Isaacs, Emma Thompson, Michael Gambon, Julie Walters, and Warwick Davis (who actually gets two). The movie even finds space for two newcomers: Kelly Macdonald as a ghost with special secrets, and a somewhat underused (naturally) Ciaran Hinds as a different Dumbledore. Deathly Hallows 2 lets each of these players have a little final fun with their characters, whether it’s Fiennes and Bonham Carter chewing the scenery as the baddies, Smith getting to show real glee at doing magic, or some well-placed profanity from Walters as a Weasley who’s had enough. The film also explains at last why an actor of Rickman’s talent was hired apparently to do little more than dress in Puritan drag and clip his sentences for eight films. Apparently.

Much has been made of the increasing darkness of the last few Potter films, and the same can be said here. Especially in the final battles, the palette is so drained as to be almost black and white (interesting in light of the finality of the good-evil battle), and the gloom that hangs over the picture helps increase the sense of urgency. Dark, too, are the events. Even before some beloved characters meet their book-ordained ends, the body count is awfully high for what began as a kids’-movie franchise. Yet if Deathly Hallows 2 doesn’t skimp on the violence and tragedy, it also doesn’t skimp on the deeper themes of its source material. That love, loyalty, and selflessness will always win over their opposites has been a motif of these movies from the beginning, and that outlook comes to full fruition here. Deathly Hallows 2 is a grown-up Potter film, but it still has a pure heart. Here, at least, fidelity to the books is an asset. The characters, good and bad, earn their fates, and we root for Harry and company not just because the plot demands it, but because of the choices they make. The resolutions here are genuinely satisfying.

The two best things that can be said about Deathly Hallows 2 are that it gets in what is necessary from its epic source, and that it is a decently entertaining movie in its own right. Mr. Potter has not always fared as well against film adaptation as he has against Voldemort’s minions, but in Deathly Hallows 2 he holds his own. Not only is this a fine farewell to the whole Potter gang, but it is a nicely-crafted couple of hours of film. It gives us a little of everything we love about Harry Potter films: excitement, action, mystery, humor, love, wonder, and, yes, magic. Dare I say it left me wanting a little more? That in itself isn’t bad for the eighth movie in a series. So long, Harry Potter; as with any good hero, it’s great to see you go out on top.

Crazy, Stupid, Love (2011)

Crazy, Stupid, Love is a reminder that there is nothing wrong with the romantic comedy as such. The genre has become so overpopulated with half-baked efforts that it’s easy to forget how fun they can be when done well. After all, many a “rom-com” was written by people with names like Shakespeare, Austen, and Wilde. Crazy, Stupid, Love doesn’t play in those leagues, of course, but it does rise above the herd of “date movies” thanks to above average writing and acting. This is genre done well.

The plot, as to be expected, concerns a set of people who all move through various combinations of the states listed in the title (and that is a list, right, given those commas?). The most time is spent with Cal (Steve Carell), whose wife Emily (Julianne Moore) tells him at the end of a dinner date that she wants a divorce. She’s had an affair with a co-worker (Kevin Bacon), and sees this as a sign that things are over. Cal is floored, but decides to give Emily what she wants. Back at home, Cal and Emily’s 13-year-old son Robbie (Jonah Bobo) is pining after his 17-year-old babysitter, Jessica (Analeigh Tipton), who herself has a crush on Cal. Also in the story’s orbit are Jacob (Ryan Gosling), a smooth ladies’ man, and Hannah (Emma Stone), a witty law student who’s the one girl that won’t buy Jacob’s lines. The crushed Cal starts drinking in the bar Jacob prowls, and, after one too many nights of overhearing the sad-sack man’s drunken laments, Jacob decides to teach Cal how to re-enter the dating pool. Meanwhile, both Robbie and Jessica up their games to try and woo the objects of their crushes, and Jacob and Hannah wonder how their meeting might have gone differently.

How all these plotlines ultimately come together is best left for you to discover, as the movie has a few silly but satisfying surprises up its sleeve. Are they ridiculous? Yes, but not more so than those dreamed up by the authors mentioned in my first paragraph. It is to the script’s great credit that none of the characters here are idiots, as is often the case in these films. They make ill-advised choices from time to time, but they are allowed to be real, thinking, people. They have motives beyond the necessities of the plot: Emily is restless, Cal is well-meaning, Robbie is romantic, etc., etc. Even the Bacon character is seen to be a pretty stand-up guy put in an odd situation. Crazy, Stupid, Love also steals a page from the Scream playbook by letting the characters in on the jokes of the genre (Cal, as the skies open up on him after a bad moment, sighs, “What a cliché…”). Directors Glenn Ficarra and John Requa have resumes including Bad Santa and I Love You, Phillip Morris, so they know a thing or two about going for the unconventional. That sensibility goes to good use here, spicing up the usual romantic formula. With a heavier hand, some of the behavior in the movie (especially Jacob and Cal’s in pick-up mode) would be downright off-putting – but the directors keep it light. It’s also worth noting that not everything gets tied up as neatly as in some lesser comedies – the happy endings are not over the top here.

What really helps elevate the film, though, is the casting. Cal is the kind of guy Carell can play with ease, equal parts amusing and annoying, silly and charming. He’s believable as the frumpy dad and as the “retrained” serial dater, and lets us see when Cal realizes he’s gone a little astray. Emily is also the sort of role Moore handles well, and, though she seems to recycle some schtick here (enough with the stammering and teary expressions, already!), she’s a fine foil/match for Carell. Stone is plenty spunky as Hannah, and Bobo and Tipton are wonderfully earnest and awkward teenagers. It’s Gosling who’s the ringer here, though, perfectly embodying both Jacob’s bravado and his real emotions when they surface. Gosling has range; this is a guy I last watched play, in Lars and the Real Girl, a man who literally couldn’t stand to be touched, and yet he seems perfectly natural here as a Don Juan type. I was left wanting to seek out more of his performances. An especially nice supporting turn comes from Marisa Tomei as the first of Cal’s post-break-up conquests. It’s refreshing to see a romantic comedy peopled with real actors, doing real acting. Credit writer Dan Fogelman with giving them mostly good things to say (and really, who hasn’t thought what Robbie thinks of The Scarlet Letter?).

Crazy, Stupid, Love isn’t a perfect movie. It feels a little long, and some parts of the timeline are hard to follow. It is, however, a reminder of how fun this sort of movie can be when there’s real talent and thought involved. It’s also blissfully low on outright raunch in this post-Apatow/Hangover age. More crazy and less stupid makes this movie pretty easy to love.

Thor (2011)

Thor has always struck me as an odd addition to the company of superheroes because, well, he’s Thor, for crying out loud – the Norse god of thunder. What business does a god have mixing in with the likes of Tony Stark and Peter Parker? And how is this fair? What sort of criminal element really poses a threat to a deity? The new movie version of Thor, directed by Kenneth Branagh, does actually find a way to solve the second problem by realizing that a hot-tempered god might be his own worst enemy (albeit with some company by film’s end). It has a harder time, however, with that first problem. The god stuff and the earthly-hero stuff never quite gel. Thor feels like two movies uncomfortably shoehorned into one.

One movie concerns goings-on in Asgard, here imagined as a far-off planet home to god-like beings and fabulous art direction. Asgard is ruled by the “All-Father” Odin (Anthony Hopkins, in full-bore regal mode). Odin has been grooming his sons, the boisterous warrior Thor (Chris Hemsworth) and the sly magician Loki (Tom Hiddleston), to become leaders of men, er, gods, er, whatever. On the eve of elder son Thor’s accession to the throne, however, he defies his father’s wishes and pays a belligerent visit the gods’ perennial enemies the Frost Giants (who all look rather like the demonic cousins of the Blue Man Group) – renewing the age-old war between them. Furious at his son’s arrogance and lack of control, Odin banishes Thor from Asgard to “Midgard” (Earth, lucky us) until he can learn a little humility. Thor’s trademark divine weapon (a hammer called Mjollnir) follows him, landing embedded in rock and only to be pulled out by one who can rightfully wield it.

Here the second movie kicks in. Thor finds himself in modern-day New Mexico, where he is literally run into by an energetic young astrophysicist named Jane Foster (Natalie Portman). Jane, assisted by her mentor Dr. Selvig (Stellan Skarsgard) and intern Darcy (Kat Dennings), has been tracking cosmic disturbances by charging around the desert in a van (I like to think of this as the Gram Parsons method of physics research). When she meets a man who seems to have come from one of these disturbances, Jane is both fascinated and, well, disturbed. The guy looks awfully human (and cute) to be from beyond…and yet he seems to know stuff…For his part, Thor just wants to get his hammer back before the agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., led by the nigh-unflappable Agent Coulson (Clark Gregg) spirit it away, or before the Frost Giants make a move back at Asgard, where Loki has gotten an upgrade in royal standing - for better or worse.

This all sounds like pretty silly stuff, and on a certain level it is. Thor pays its dues with the kind of winks and chuckles we associate with modern comic-book movies (Thor’s method of ordering more coffee, for example), but the surprising thing is that Branagh finds a way to play most of it straight. This is the most earnest superhero movie I’ve seen in a while, and it may well be that this is due to an Englishman being at the helm. Perhaps it takes a European to do (literal) mythology without trying to debunk it. The whole thing has a kind of “Masterpiece Theater” feel to it. This is real heroics – no metaphors needed.

The Asgard storyline is, after all, truly Wagnerian stuff, and Branagh, who is famous for his Shakespeare films, seems to be more at home with the gods of war and royal intrigue. Yes, much of this material is pitched at a Shakespeare-Company level where everything is Really Important, but there is real emotional resonance to this half of the story. It’s in Asgard that the deeper themes come up – parental expectations, brotherhood, loyalty, and so forth. The shiny armor and shimmering CGI bridges can’t obscure the mythic roots of the tale. There’s a reason people still study this stuff, and if Thor sends a few kids scurrying to the myth section of the local library, all to the better.
On Earth, however, the movie falters. Gods are notoriously one-dimensional, known by their jobs or attributes. But what’s a workable strategy in Asgard is less successful in New Mexico. Jane is spunky, Darcy is funny, Dr. Selvig is smart, and that’s about it (though at least Mr. Skarsgard is allowed to play genuinely Nordic for a change). The script aims at a romance between Jane and Thor, but it never really takes off. This is not the actors’ fault. Ms. Portman and Mr. Hemsworth smile and cuddle gamely, but there’s nothing really written for them. They feel for each other because the plot demands it, nothing more—which is a problem for some later story developments.

Neither Thor as a character nor Mr. Branagh as a director are known for subtlety, and so in that sense this is a good pairing. Thor is a big, bright (at least in 2-D), loud, shiny summer movie about a big, loud, shiny guy, er, god. What subtlety is to be found sneaks in through the a few of the performances. Mr. Hiddleston is especially worthy of note as Loki, who is as conflicted as Thor is brash. Idris Elba is interesting but underused as the oracular warrior Heimdall, who dresses like an Academy Award and speaks like Gandalf. And it’s been fun to watch Mr. Gregg add shades to Coulson over the course of several films. Others are fare less well. Colm Feore growls appropriately as the king of the Frost Giants, but he’s buried under tons of make-up and saddled with the decidedly un-terrifying name of “Laufey.” Equally stymied are a quartet of actors playing Thor’s adventuring buddies, including Jaimie Alexander as the obligatory Valkyrie type, and the always-welcome Ray Stevenson as the Falstaffian Volstagg. These characters never register as much more than “Thor’s pals.” As for Thor himself, Mr. Hemsworth hits (hammers?) just the right notes. His Thor is capable of being a lout, but never completely loses our sympathy. He also understands the key to the fish-out-of-water scenes, which is that Thor must never know he’s funny. It’s a fine star turn, and Thor is charismatic enough to be welcome back in the Avengers group-pic and the inevitable Thor sequels.

Thor is the rare comic-book movie that could actually benefit from a little more running time, to fill out its thinner elements. The end result is a little too choppy and incomplete to be perfect – some fun disparate scenes, but not a great movie. It also tries a little too hard to push the upcoming Avengers film (Selvig has a colleague who worked with “gamma rays” and disappeared! Oho! That government archer is played by Jeremy Renner! Wonder who he is?). Overall, though, it delivers an entertaining kick-off to the “big movie” season. There’s some good old fashioned Saturday-afternoon-matinee wonder here. Thor is not exactly fit for the gods, but it’s not too bad for a mortal outing.

Winter’s Bone (2010)

Winter’s Bone is film noir in indie-film clothing. Oh, sure – it mixes credible actors with regional locals and lovingly films a bleakly beautiful swath of America. But the film is after myth, not sociology. There’s realism here, but overall, Winter’s Bone is less PBS than Faulkner, and the movie is all the stronger for it. This movie is tough to take, but it will stick with you.

The plot centers on 17-year-old Ree Dolly (Jennifer Lawrence, all of 19 during filming), a tough-beyond-her-years Ozarks teen who is essentially raising her younger siblings. He mother lives with them, but says little and does less. Some sort of mental illness. All Ree will say is “My mom is sick.” Her dad? Well, he’s been in and out of jail for cooking meth. He’s out now, but not at home. One day the sheriff pulls up. Ree’s dad is due in court. He’s posted the family home as bail. If he doesn’t show, the rest of the Dollys are homeless. Ree vows to track him down and make him show, if she can.

From there the movie tracks Ree’s attempts to locate her missing father. She starts with his former meth-cooking buddies – most of them distant kin. But they won’t talk. “Talkin’,” one says, “just creates witnesses.” Slowly Ree begins to uncover things about her family—-immediate and extended—-that are probably better left unknown. The trouble is, Ree no longer has the luxury of not knowing.

What Ree discovers, and what help and hurt she gets from her kin, including her not exactly avuncular uncle Teardrop (John Hawkes) and fearsome clan matriarch Merab (Dale Dickey), are best not revealed here. The solution to the mystery, wonderfully Gothic though it is, is only part of the pleasure of Winter’s Bone. Just as remarkable is Ree’s journey itself. Working from a novel by Daniel Woodrell, director Debra Granik and co-writer Anne Rosellini fashion a gripping tale of self-reliance and family honor. Ree is formidable. She cooks, hunts game, stares down surly relatives and takes beatings all with equal poise. Her situation is dire, but she doesn’t want charity (“Never ask for what ought to be offered,” she tells her brother). What she wants is decency. Turns out that’s harder to come by.

Woodrell’s novels have been called “country noir,” and Winter’s Bone works both halves of that label with success. The filmmakers shot completely on location, in real Ozarks houses, and peopled the cast with local citizens. Robert Duvall took a similar approach to The Apostle, and as in that film, the results in Winter’s Bone are palpable. The place is a character here, and the film feels lived-in. We feel like we come in in the middle of something much older, and that’s exactly right. It also helps that, though stereotypical flourishes appear (mountain music, trailers), the people Ree meets are not allowed to descend into caricature. There are dangerous folk aplenty, but no real villains. You probably wouldn’t want to back Ree in a corner, either.

As for the noir angle, not only does the plot follow the traditional gumshoe shape (including roughings-up, shifty lawmen, and unexpected help), but the movie grasps the central dynamic of film noir: the unlikely insertion of a moral character into an amoral world. Ree has a moral code; she expects family to do the right thing. Not all agree. The movie’s drive comes from that disagreement.

All this makes Winter’s Bone sound like a thriller, which it is, in its way—but not an action thriller. This is an acting movie, and the home-run here belongs to Jennifer Lawrence. Miss Lawrence is too round-faced and healthily pretty to really be this girl, but that’s the movies for you. What she does is let her appearance go hang and build up Ree from the inside. Eyes narrowed, jaw set, and feet planted, Lawrence embodies Ree’s determination. It’s a tough little performance, and it sells the film. Ree isn’t cute or lovable, but we root for her because she is who she is. The turn got Lawrence an Oscar nod, and deservedly so. John Hawkes also grabbed a nomination for his work as Teardrop, which is a fine study in quiet menace.

Adding nicely to the mix is the dialogue, much of which I assume is straight from or close to Woodrell’s actual words. These characters speak with the sort of terse crackle associated with Elmore Leonard or Cormac McCarthy. When an erstwhile enemy shows up on Ree’s porch, Ree brandishes a gun, plainly saying she wants to “blow a big hole clean through your f---ing guts.” “I know you do,” the enemy replies, “but you won’t.” Or consider Teardrop, pointedly hushing his wife by saying “I already said shut up with my mouth.”

This is dark stuff, and Winter’s Bone won’t be to everyone’s liking. But if some of the literary names dropped throughout this review sound like your cup of tea (with a bit of Jack Daniels in it), then this film is worth finding on DVD. In one of my favorite exchanges, Ree admits to her uncle “You always have scared me.” “That’s ‘cause you’re smart,” Teardrop replies. Smart and scary – that’s the Dolly family. That’s Winter’s Bone.

True Grit (2010)

Reports of the Western’s death are always greatly exaggerated. Sure, it’s not the dominant genre it once was (theaters are now crammed with action flicks and romantic comedies), but the Western remains there in the background, waiting. Nowadays, the genre serves as a proving ground of sorts for directors—a cinema staple to take on and adapt to the filmmaker’s tastes. Sort of the way most cooks have their own take on chili: the basics stay the same, but the meat or seasoning is different. With True Grit, the Coen Brothers bring their Western recipe to the table. The result is a satisfying entry – straightforward, with just a hint of the usual Coen spice.

True Grit is, of course, an adaptation of the same Charles Portis novel that inspired the 1969 film starring John Wayne. Thus, it’s not really fair to call the Coens’ film a “remake” of that film. It’s another version of the same source material (and the Coens have claimed in interviews to be incredibly smitten with the original book). The Duke casts a long shadow, though – the role of Rooster Cogburn won Wayne an Oscar – and comparison is inevitable. Let’s just say that each version of the story has its own pleasures. This movie doesn’t erase the memory of the earlier one, but neither does it damage it. Both films prove that good story and good acting win through in any era (or genre).

The story is one of revenge. Young Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld), of Yell County, Arkansas, learns that her father has been shot and killed during a business trip to Ft. Smith. Arriving to collect his body and effects, Mattie finds that the local law, while stringent in its own right (there’s a triple hanging going on as she hits town), has no interest in pursuing fugitives into “Indian territory.” So to track down the murderer, Mattie hires Rooster Cogburn (Jeff Bridges), a one-eyed U.S.-Marshal-cum-bounty-hunter who tends to shoot first and do pretty much anything else later. Mattie believes in an eye for an eye, and so Cogburn’s idea of leaden justice suits her. Adding complexity, however, is a Texas Ranger named LeBoeuf (Matt Damon), who’s after the same man, and might rather have him alive. Turns out there’s a reward for bringing him to Texas.

The bulk of the movie follows the uneasy alliance of Cogburn, Mattie, and LeBoeuf as they head out to bag the no-good Tom Chaney (Josh Brolin). Their specific adventures are best left for you to discover. None fall outside the expectations of the genre. More interesting than these characters’ actions, however, are their words. Lifted largely direct from the novel by the Coens, the dialogue snaps along with a vaguely archaic crackle. Hardly anyone uses contractions, or short sentences, but there is wit aplenty (Cogburn, when Mattie promises his fee: “I don’t believe in fairy tales, sermons, or stories about money.”) This movie is at least as fun to listen to as to look at, and, given Roger Deakins’s cinematography work, that’s saying something.

Much has been made of the fact that this is not a “Coen Brothers Movie,” and, indeed, it is not filled with the sort of odd shenanigans or outright wacky folks to be found in, say, The Big Lebowski or O Brother, Where Art Thou? True Grit does, however, benefit from the Coens’ usual ear for dialogue and their uncanny ability to capture place – whether it’s the frozen North of Fargo or the half-baked rural South of O Brother. Beyond a little rough language and some special effects violence, this is not an “updated” Western. It feels like the Old West. The trails look ridden and the costumes look lived in. That arch dialogue feels right at home.

It is worth noting, though, that while wacky characters are few (maybe the bear man counts), the leads are all bona fide eccentrics. Mattie is not at all the “cute” movie girl. With her tight braids, dark dresses, serious manner, and quick wit, she’s rather like Wednesday Addams raised by Puritans. LeBoeuf is a bit of a dandy and a pedant, affecting fringed coats, jangly spurs, and a professorial pipe. Cogburn is a drunk and a chain-smoker, and has acted ornery so long that he’s forgotten it’s an act. In Steinfeld, Damon, and Bridges, the Coens found exactly the right people to breathe life into these strange characters. We come to like them for who they are, and not just because the script says we should.

Bridges naturally has a thankless job: inhabiting a role made iconic by an already iconic actor. Wisely, he does not try to top John Wayne (not even John Wayne could top John Wayne), but steps a little to the side with a tip of his hat. Wayne played Cogburn like the star of a Western. Bridges plays him like an extra from HBO’s “Deadwood” whom you can almost smell from the screen. The role allows Bridges to do many things Bridges does well: crankiness, humor, laid-back loquacity, and even a hint of pathos. The greatest compliment I can give is that I didn’t see a man onscreen playing “The John Wayne role.” I just saw Rooster Cogburn.

Hardly any actor working straddles the line between nerd and action star was well as Matt Damon, and that’s exactly what is required for Laboeuf. The character could easily be a buffoon, but Damon underplays and keeps him plausible. I believed that LaBoeuf was indeed a bit of a prig, but I also believed he knew his way around a rifle. Mattie is the first full-length film role for Hailee Steinfeld, but you wouldn’t know it. Much like her character, the young actress holds her own against older, formidable men. This is one tough girl. Josh Brolin makes Chaney both dumb as a box of rocks and slippery as a rattlesnake, and Barry Pepper turns in nice work as a savvier outlaw named Lucky Ned, whose luck may not extend to meeting Rooster Cogburn (it’s Pepper’s job to say the line famous from the ’69 film: “I call that bold talk for a one-eyed fat man!” He gets through it.).

Have the Coens made flashier films than this one? Sure. But there’s nothing at all wrong with True Grit. This is a solid film, well written, beautifully shot, and competently acted. The Coens have mixed up a tasty twist on an old classic genre. This is pure storytelling. If it’s eye candy you want, I suppose there’s always Tron: Legacy.