A Dying Breed

Eastwood at his best.

I've never claimed to be on the cutting edge as most blogs are, and in fact I am about two years behind on screening Gran Torino. If you've never seen it - watch it. If you have - watch again.

Right away I found myself glued to the man more than the story. Eastwood's portrayal of a curmudgeonly Korean war vet who has little tolerance for his Michigan neighborhood's expanding cultural make-up is hysterical, exhilarating and captivating. He is an old-school man's man if ever there was one. A tortured past fueling his present day attitude. He grunts and sneers with palpable disdain for what he sees around him - the disintegration of culture, hard work and respect, managing to maintain likability through snarky comments and expressive reactions. I tend to think I have more in common with his geriatric character than with most of my 20-something peers.

At nearly 80, Eastwood is more of a badass than ever, each weathered crevice on his face lending itself to the severity of his character's demeanor. His trademark salty whisper, like the rumble of the motor on his aged Ford pick-up, continually spews vitriolic slurs at those around him whether in malign or jest. He reminds me of my grandfather in his view of the world and a pining for the way things used to be... reducing people down to ethnicity and class, the idea of political correctness a foreign concept. Being a former assembly line worker and Mr. Fix-It, he has a vintage definition of what it means to be a man. A coded language, primitive interactions and a sense of self sacrifice. An aloof stare hides a screaming silence within. He strips away emotion, most likely a casualty of war, and is left a stoic, callous and intimidating presence. A thick fog of a man... one that not even his own family can see through.

"I'll have a shot of Jack and a Pabst"
Me too, Clint, me too.

I actually expected the movie to be more violent and less endearing. His rifle toting, PBR sipping, grizzly, blue collar exterior subtly began to shift as he imparted course wisdom on his young mentee - an amusing journey towards his ultimate sacrificial demise. He never really shows outward emotion, rather expresses his feelings through actions and expressions: a grimace or snort, a wince in pain, the sharing of tools, a visit to the hardware store and barber shop, or merely giving his word in recommendation. This was common practice before open displays of male sensitivity were accepted.

In the opening scene of the film, Walt Kowalski stands at attention beside his wife's casket and scowls at his bratty, disrespectful grandchildren as they joke, text and befoul the ceremony with un-evolved antics; their fathers endorsing the behaviour with silence. It's moments like this that showcase the ever-widening generational gap in grace. Men of prior generations seemed to have a better sense of propriety, striking a balance and awareness between rugged and refined. We, as the new school, on the other hand tend to feel entitled and are quick to adopt a closed door policy on tradition, opting for comfort and convenience. It may not be the right way, but it's the right way for ME. Grrrr.

Eastwood's Kowalski personifies the root of this blog proving that being a man is an attitude, on either side of the R/R spectrum. While I appreciate fashion and style, men of that generation didn't just dress a part, they lived it. As I sit here in my chambray shirt, Levi's and Red Wings, it will never make me as rugged as Kowalski in his old man staples. His experiences - war, depression, social change - shaped his personality. His hands chapped and boots worn because of what he endured. His clothes simply a utility. Does that make me a fraud? Probably.

We take our modern day style cues from men that dressed for a purpose. The Kowalski's of the world, hard at work at the Ford plant or the Drapers high atop their cushy office thrones. It wasn't a trend or an homage - it was a uniform to produce, and they wore it well. A Walt Kowalski never relied on others to do something that he could have easily done or learned himself. Sadly, these men are a dying breed and I fear that we, their spoiled replacements will never be able to fill their shoes. They did and we watch. They worked and we type. They lived and we...

"I said, get off my lawn."

The concern I have with my generation of men is that as far as we've come emotionally, we seem to be missing the rugged attitude of the past. Instead, we rely on technology and third-party information above challenging ourselves to experience and explore. I find that the better part of my week is spent managing a virtual life instead of living a real one. I can easily read and write about being a man instead of going out and just being one. It's been a goal of mine to DO more... go camping, drink whiskey, take a woodworking class. But also to be responsible, respectful and courteous. To start to carve out my own legacy of how I want to be remembered. Not just as a man who appreciates style and the arts but one that can fix a sink and start a fire. To make this blog a ethos, not a vessel of empty words. To make Walt proud.

I've always lived vicariously through movies. In the end I couldn't help but feel more excited than ever to be a man. Watching Clint just has a way of stimulating the rugged. I found his presence in Gran Torino more intimidating and hardened than any western figure he ever portrayed. There is something so much more inspiring and entertaining about watching a septuagenarian intimidate rowdy young punks than the overcooked battles between middle aged men. If there is one thing this movie helped me to realize is that aging might not be as terrifying as it seems. Because let's face it, Eastwood makes turning 80 look down right cool.