Spoiler alert: If you haven’t yet seen Clint Eastwood’s Gran Torino, don’t read any more here.
Clint was all Clint in his latest, Gran Torino, but he did a mighty fine Jesus, too. I’m assuming, given the spoiler alert above, that you’ve already seen the movie. I loved it, especially for its ending. But of course the power of that ending would be nothing without the story and character development that led to it.
By the end, we long for a dramatic blood-letting, a great ass-whooping of the nasty thugs, and we know that Clint is just the guy to do it.
We sympathize with and even admire the young priest who tries so hard to prevent it from happening. But remember that moment when the priest admitted that he’d consult Clint if faced with the same dilemma?
The drama of the final scene. How will he do it? How will he make the guilty pay? A fire ball? A bomb? Grenade? Would he run them down with machine gun fire? No. It’s perfect — he rouses the neighborhood, numerous witnesses to the escalating tension between Clint and the thugs, every one among the guilty armed and ready. Then he reaches for… and they gun him down. He falls into a perfect Hollywood pose, unmistakably crucified. By now, the cops have gathered and there are so many witnesses to the scene that none can fear reprisal for reporting what he or she has seen. Each member of the vicious gang is handcuffed and carted away.To justice. Real, honest justice. And this is what I especially liked about the movie’s end. It brought justice back into conversation with mercy, compassion, and forgiveness.
Jesus’ crucifixion is lionized for its illustration of God’s great mercy — that God’s son would die a profoundly innocent death to atone for the terrible guilt of ordinary human beings. But justice, fair and square, has a role to play, too. Truth is, if Jesus’ crucifixion is nothing more than another act of heroic magnanimity by an innocent party on behalf of thankless thugs who will simply persist in violence and cruelty knowing that they are forgiven, anyway, then I want no part of it. But if that crucifixion is also a means of accounting — a true reckoning with humanity’s failure to do justice, to love mercy, and humbly to go about one’s life alongside God — that finally heals persons and communities, then I’m in… and ready for the forgiveness part, too.
