Saturday, October 2, 2021

Talking to an Empty Chair: The Decline of Great Director Clint Eastwood in Cry Macho

Film Reviewed: Cry Macho    

Director: Clint Eastwood

Date Watched: 19 September 2021

jamesintexas rating: *



I think this film is a travesty.  No one clearly told Clint Eastwood, a masterful director and storyteller, that his script here was unfinished, cliche-ridden, and devoid of genuine emotion.  He makes his 91-year old protagonist sexually attractive to not one but two women, creates genuine suspense by getting on a horse, survives a car crash with no effects, and wastes a wonderful Dwight Yoakum by not giving him enough to do.  I was so surprised by the ending; it feels like Eastwood made all the choices, took none of the feedback, and instead of any sort of climax, it whimpers away with a non-ending.  

Clint's character Mike Milo is a former rodeo rider with a tortured past, summarily fired by ranch boss Howard Polk (Dwight Yoakum) very early on.  A title card informs us of the passage of time, and suddenly, he is roped into traveling to Mexico in 1979 to bring Yoakum's son back to the US.  Feeling a life debt, Eastwood goes, and then he ends up bonding in a picaresque journey back with the son, Rafo (Eduardo Minnet).  A supposed meditation on aging and the twilight of a life, Eastwood's camera is at its best when it focuses on sun glares, fading light, and his profile set against dark shadows.  But it is really a mess with his character hiding behind a box to elude police, engaging in a low-speed chase where he hides from the cops, the aforementioned car crash, but the sheer fact of seeing 91 year old Eastwood working, moving, walking in a way that made me think of my grandpa is a testament to his strength and intensity as an artist.  I just wish this story was worth the massive effort it obviously took for him to make it and star in it.

I am a fan of Unforgiven, A Perfect World, Million Dollar Baby, and more (latter-day Eastwood, given my need to explore his early films).  I am unsure what Eastwood is doing in Cry Macho.  It is the cinematic equivalent of talking to an empty chair.  

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