A Good German and a GT

I'm aware of my membership in the majority when I state that viewing a story of redemption is powerful and emotionally satisfying. Yet I realized today, as an audience for The Reader, how deeply I believe it is necessary to witness narratives that explain the other side, to watch the unfolding of an absolutely unapologetic character.
Kate Winslet is spellbinding as Hanna Schmitz, a woman who is eventually tried in the late 1960's for her part in the demise of women prisoners traveling on their death march from Auschwitz to Bergen-Belsen. Some of her trial is witnessed, coincidentally, by a young law student who nearly 10 years earlier had been involved in an affair with her. At the time of the trial (for those of you who are not delighted by courtroom proceedings, never fear, it comprises a small but crucial part of the film), I think the audience is expecting Hanna to be remorseful, contrite, ashamed at what she had done. And here is where the movie knocked my socks off. All at once, numerous questions ran through my head: how can she not have regret? Has she learned nothing of humanity in the 20 years since? Could she possibly she think she was right? Perhaps she is mental? How could she not know the Nazis were wrong?
Though the movie is over half done at this point, it is the complete essence of the story. I spent the remaining time trying to find answers, yet sometimes simply ended up with more questions.
This movie is so much more than a story about first love, or an attempt to define guilt, or an opinion about the cost of consequence. I think it offers an example of how our lives are rarely (if ever) defined by polarity: black and white, right and wrong, good and bad. That we must make room for those people who feel a strength of purpose different than our own. It's a challenge, and one that is met in many, many ways over a lifetime.

The theme of redemption is indeed the nuts-and-bolts of Clint Eastwood's Gran Torino. However, I feel supremely unqualified to give more than a superficial review of this movie as I've seen so few of his. Thus, reader beware: if you're a fan of Mr. Eastwood, you'll no doubt have waaaaaayyyyy more to say about this movie than I.
For 78 years old, Clint doesn't look too bad. With that said, his character's old-man walk and penchant for (literally) growling make you believe you're watching ol' Eastwood's daily life. As this is probably not the case (I've read Mr. Eastwood is really a nice guy), I'd have to give utter applause for his portrayal of main character Walt Kowalski.
Walt is retired from a career at Ford motors, is now a widower, and an unfortunate father to two middle aged men who don't like him. He putters around town, like lots of guys his age, but he does it with displeasure, annoyance and no small amount of racial profanity. Walt is of the midwest, where Willy Loman was a hero, and the post-war American Dream remains alive and well. Over time, "his" neighborhood has become populated by immigrants, and his sharply defined world is beginning to become a little cloudy.
Then, something happens that makes him start caring about others. Then something else happens that's bad. So he does something in return. Then something bad happens to him. It's not a fresh story, it's hardly even surprising. The symbolic moments and tokens (the '72 Gran Torino, the silver star, the handguns, the young Catholic priest) assigned to explain mistrust, naivety, forgiveness, and sacrifice are not subtle, and sometimes, blatantly stereotypical. Yet, "the critics" love this film and report that Eastwood is still masterful. I can't disagree, nor can I agree; I simply don't know Clint's history of film. I do know this movie wasn't a waste of my money, but it also wasn't the emotional juggernaut I had expected.