“You must pay for everything in this world, one way or another. There is nothing free except for the grace of God.” So Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld) tells us in Joel and Ethan Coen’s reimagining of Henry Hathaway’s True Grit, which is based on Charles Portis’ novel. Unsurprisingly, the Coens do a fine job with this remake in that it simultaneously stays faithful to the original in respect to certain scenes – particularly the climactic scene between Cogburn (Jeff Bridges in the new, John Wayne in the old) and Ned Pepper (Barry Pepper and Robert Duvall, respectively) – but also inches closer to an accurate portrayal of the main character of Portis’ novel.
In 1969, True Grit won John Wayne his only Oscar for Best Actor in three nominations, and while it was deserved inasmuch as it was – according to the original trailer – Wayne’s “most colorful role,” the movie itself is really an exercise in Wayne being Wayne, only this time with slightly exaggerated mannerisms to convey drunkenness. Needless to say, Wayne was the star, the rest were supporting players, and in a 1969 John Wayne film, this would seem to be the correct pecking order.
However, in the Coen’s updated version, the film centers on the young Mattie Ross, who is determined to employ Cogburn to track down Tom Chaney (Josh Brolin), the man who killed her father. Mattie Ross is also relevant in Hathaway’s version, but the resulting conviction in her lines is a result of other actors’ reactions. Their acquiescence to her straightforward yet soft-spoken demands gives us the sense that she means business — but the actress does not evoke this — and this way, Wayne’s Cogburn is the perpetually dominant figure.
The Coens, and Steinfeld in particular, give us the reciprocal version of Mattie here, delivering her lines with stoic conviction and an unblinking stare. She does not charm the men, and they do not acquiesce because it is written in the script. This version of True Grit shows a woman-child, cognizant of the human condition and its shift from communal civilization to individualistic society. Too much? Not really.
As opposed to the 1969 version of True Grit, which is less about a young girl avenging her father’s revenge and more about redemption for an end-of-his-rope, drunk U.S. Marshall, the 2010 version cues in on the irony innate to social expansion: as the population increases, the communal aspect decreases because competition winnows communal civilizations down to individual entrepreneurs, which is evident as Mattie exhorts the Sheriff of Fort Smith, Arkansas, to set out into Indian Territory to find Tom Chaney, who everyone knows is the man who has killed her father. However, knowledge of his crime takes a backseat to jurisdiction of territory, which is fallacious logic because the sheriff claims lack of jurisdiction over Native American territories that don’t abide by the writs and torts that establish jurisdiction. So, his refusal ultimately boils down to a lack of vested interest in obtaining Chaney. No reward. No service.
Thus, the operative word in Mattie’s prologue to True Grit is “pay”: in one sense, a symbol of morals fetishized into gold coins and sheets of dyed linen, which is why Cogburn becomes important. His rank of U.S. Marshall is simply a euphemism for “bounty hunter.” He has a badge, but no obligation to uphold the law – which is obvious by his mockery in the court room, asking the defense attorney to delineate between how many men he has “shot” or “killed” as a punch line to the questioning. Morals and the preservation of law are not at stake in True Grit. Financial gain and personal justice dominate the social rubric. He is a federal employee for hire. No reward. No service.
In another sense, “pay” refers to the economy of the human body. Hattie, though she understands money and husbands her finances better than her purveyors, is bent on taking Chaney’s life as payment for her father’s death. But in order to do this, she must become an employer and motivate financially, unable to use the pain and emotional distress that would lie behind the eyes of a fourteen-year old who has just lost her father. She, like Cogburn, has little interest in “justice” in the traditional sense of a due process, which is why she is against the Texas Ranger LaBoeuf (Matt Damon) joining her and Cogburn on their quest for Chaney. LaBoeuf seeks out Chaney to prosecute him for murdering a Texas Senator, but this disrupts transactions in three separate economies: body for Mattie, bounty for Cogburn, and pride as well as money for LaBoeuf. Each member has his or her own agenda. At times, they cooperate, but through most of the film, “justice” is negligible, and each is focused on his or her own pragmatism.
What might be the best part about True Grit is the way in which actors perform for the Coens. Bridges, Damn, and Steinfeld hold their own as the leads, but brief turns by Barry Pepper and Josh Brolin make every scene they are apart of captivating and cast a tone where every human cog in this tale is cognizant of everything they say as to avoid summoning death upon themselves by dropping names.
In the end, man can “pay for everything in this world” — but only with enough capital.
