The American automobile industry once made vehicles people wanted. There was an aura about their classic cars that were the emblem of the American century. The vehicles had a style and grace that was expected to be exuded on every model that rolled out of Detroit. Clint Eastwood had that same aura. His characters represented a tough masculine ideal. In spaghetti westerns and vigilante dramas Eastwood delivered what the audience expected. In Eastwood’s latest film, Gran Torino, the aura exuding from all those characters continues to flow in all of its reinvented forms.

For almost two decades now, Eastwood has been actively deconstructing the masculine image his films defined. Characters that see the world in black and white cannot exist in a world shaded in grey. Walt Kowalski (Eastwood) embodies the morally centered man with the overly gruff exterior Eastwood has made famous. Walt is a widowed Korean War veteran haunted by the memory of all he killed, though nobody knows his torment. He has secluded himself from the living, keeping his family at bay. Walt is over-the-top cantankerous, leaving no doubt he is ripe for redemption and reinvention.

In deconstructing Walt, Eastwood finds the soul of the man, morally centered as the characters that have come before him. Without the burden of a lifetime of built up walls of regret, Walt is able to understand life, and understand the sacrifice it requires. Eastwood’s classic characters were always emblematic of an American ideal, character that is ill-suited to continue thriving in an ever-changing world. The car that lends its name to Gran Torino, is itself emblematic of a past automobile ideal. Eastwood has shown ideals can change; he can stay relevant in a new world taking a toll on those who cling to an uncompromising past.