True Grit

Faux-Nihilism and Rooster Cogburn
By Jeff Webb

The Coens want to be nihilists. Their trilogy of movies from 2006 to 2009—No Country for Old Men, Burn After Reading, and A Serious Man—are evidence of this, as each movie practically suggests a universe full of unwarranted and unknowable suffering. Their latest effort in True Grit exists in the same universe, the story beginning with the senseless murder of young Mattie Ross’ father, but whereas the previous three movies ended on ambiguity, True Grit ends with affirmation, the affirmation that man is tough, resilient, and, deep down beneath the filthy surface, full of goodness.

Look no further than the film’s Rooster Cogburn, portrayed brilliantly by Jeff Bridges. Cogburn has the reputation of being the meanest U.S. Marshal around. When asked how many men he’s shot, he asks whether the questioner means shot or killed. The questioner replies in kind that it should be restricted to killed to keep the number at a manageable level. Indeed, Cogburn doesn’t back down from a fight—he once took on four men while riding on horseback, holding revolvers in both hands and the reins of his horse in his teeth—and he will do whatever is necessary to meet his ends.

Cogburn is a rich character, full of backstory and mannerisms giving him life and allowing Bridges to become the character. But Cogburn, utilitarian and gruff as he may be, is not a one-note character, and that is evidenced nowhere more than in his relationship with Mattie Ross and the course it takes during the film. She becomes a daughter to him, and it is in here that the film reaches tenderness typically avoided in a Coen movie. Bridges takes the character full-circle, from a man who is unwilling to admit that his drunkenness and one-eye might make him a bad shot to one who, at the end of the battle, can only fall on his knees exhausted and declare, “I’ve grown old.”

The film, not without fault, is not pure sentimentality, though. Comparing it with the 1969 adaptation of True Grit, one striking difference is the ending. In the John Wayne version, Mattie and Rooster converse on a hillside cemetery, Ms. Ross telling the marshal that she would like for him to be buried there with her family. It is a moment that cements the meaning of the film, that tough-girl Mattie is finally admitting she is capable of showing affection, and tough-guy Cogburn, in turn, accepting affection. The Coens do not end their version on such a feel-good moment, which is frustrating as it leaves the movie without an emotional payoff, but, in some small way, it is almost fitting for the characters. Yes, perhaps they have grown and changed over the course of the film, but they are both too stubborn to really outright acknowledge their admiration and devotion to one another.

This is why the Coens can only pretend to be nihilists. They want to end their movie on a slightly pessimistic note, with uncertainty, but, with True Grit, they pull their punch at the last second. For the better part of the movie, they’ve covered their sentiment, kept it subdued like the church hymns that compose Carter Burwell’s wonderful score, but, in the end, it does rise up, ever so slightly. Cogburn and Ross may never outright exhibit what they’ve learned and grown into, but it’s a testament to the actors who portray them that the audience can feel, nonetheless, what they’ve become. By the time the credits begin to roll as an aged Mattie Ross walks off toward the sun and Iris Dement starts singing the words of “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms,” it hits you. It’s at that moment that you know that Cogburn and Ross needed each other, that, like the savior in the song, so, too, in a cold and unforgiving universe, were they the saviors of each other.