[In honor of Roger Ebert’s passing, I thought I’d try my hand at a movie review. For me, he and Gene Siskel were the original and only movie reviewers. I trusted his knowledge, insight, and expertise when it came to movies. I didn’t always agree, but I admired his ability to point out why he loved a cheesy popcorn flick filled with explosions, then on the next review explain how movie X was subtly referencing Greek myth. He was smart, funny, and will be missed.]

True Grit tells the story of a cold, calculating young girl named Mattie (Hailee Steinfeld) out to avenge the murder of her father. The story picks up after his death, and we’re told the story through a single-scene flashback. We’re shown her determination and intelligence after she literally gets the better of a horse trade. She enlists the help of the reluctant, alcoholic, violent-even-for-the-Old-West Marshall Rooster Cogburn (Jeff Bridges). Before they leave town, we’re introduced to the bounty hunting Texas Ranger LaBoeuf (Matt Damon) who has been after the same man for several months.

In many movies, when the precocious-but-spirited heroine meets up with the gruff-but-lovable old timer, her strong will shown early in the film melts away, and she’s left as a cowering shadow as he does “the man’s work.” Think Marion in Robin Hood: Price of Thieves. It would have been extremely easy to do the same here, with Mattie in the company of two tough lawmen. To the movie’s credit, Mattie starts tough, stays tough, and ends tougher.

What’s unique about this movie is the way that it captures the States in a way that seems alien to us now: as a vast, unexplored, dangerous, but also strange place. We’re given the usual glorious vistas of extended plains, gorgeous sunsets, and snow-dappled groves–but there’s also a fifteen minute segment involving a hanged man that does nothing to advance the plot and serves only to illustrate that things don’t work in this Old West the way that they do in most movies. When Mattie and Rooster Cogburn stop for information at a trading post, he literally kicks two children off the building’s front porch. He does it casually, and seemingly without malice. It’s as though kicking children is simply something that’s normal and expected.

This sense that “something is a little off” is part of the charm of Coen Brothers films, and adds nuance to movies like The Big Lebowski and Fargo. However, in a period piece such as this it can be a distraction. Rather than being allowed to lose myself in the story, I was continually reminded, “Oh, right. I’m watching a Coen Brothers movie.” The dialogue and acting throughout the movie seems intentionally stilted and listless. It’s as if the actors grew up speaking a different language, learned an American accent and the words in the script, but don’t understand the meaning behind the words. The exception to this flat affect is Bridges’ Cogburn, whose voice is frequently so guttural and incomprehensible that I was forced to turn on the closed captioning thirty minutes into the film.

Those quibbles aside, this movie may be added to my list of favorites if it can stand up to a second viewing. The Coen Brothers did an amazing job creating this movie, so much so that I feel the need to share it with other people. There aren’t a lot of movies that can do that, and I look forward to their next one.