Clint Eastwood: Evolution of a Filmmaker

By John H. Foote

Westport, CT: Praeger, January 2009. Cloth: ISBN 978-0313352478, $39.95. 224 pages.

Review by Douglas C. Macleod, State University of New York, Albany

“Million Dollar Baby won the Academy Award. That was nice, that was great. But you don’t dwell on it. An awful lot of good pictures haven’t won Academy Awards, so it doesn’t have much bearing. Letters from Iwo Jima was nominated for an Academy Award. We didn’t win it, but that picture was still as good as I could do it. Did it deserve it less than some other picture? No, not really. But there are other aspects that come into it. In the end, you’ve just got to be happy with what you’ve done. There you are.”--Clint Eastwood, Esquire Magazine, 2009

If there is one thing that we could gather from the above statement, it is that Clint Eastwood cares a great deal about the business, and doesn’t care a great deal about the business. What do I mean by that? Without a doubt, Eastwood loves to make movies. Being a successful 80-year-old filmmaker and actor where teeny-boppers like Miley Cyrus, the Jonas Brothers, and the cast of Twilight seem to dominate America’s big and small screens, he continues to win over audiences and critics alike. With films like Million Dollar Baby, Mystic River, Letters from Iwo Jima, and (one of his greatest masterpieces) Gran Torino under his belt, he gives the sense that his love for movie-making runs deeper than any ocean or any canyon (no exaggeration). However, one gets the sense that he does not care much for the business of making movies. He likes accolades, but if he does not get them, so what? He likes the success, but if one of his films does not make money, big deal. If he wins an award, great; if not, well, it will not stop him. All he cares about is entertainment, and if he provides it well enough and quick enough, then that is just fine by him.

Clint Eastwood: Evolution of a Filmmaker is organized quite sensibly, into sections on the 1970s, the 80s, the 90s, and the 2000s. Each of the films Eastwood has directed is covered, with a great deal of production information, quotations from his respective casts, and critical responses, usually presented in that order. Foote’s book is filled with great tidbits of information: for example, Gene Hackman refused the role of Little Bill at first, in Unforgiven, because he did not want to be involved with anything too violent at the time (93); Sean Penn read the script for Mystic River, heard that Eastwood was directing it, and said simply, “I’m in” (146); and Eastwood got so annoyed by Kevin Costner’s child-like, spoiled-brat behavior on the set of A Perfect World that he decided to film Costner’s body-double and later tell Costner that he (Eastwood) was not there to “jerk off” (103). All of this makes Foote’s text easy and entertaining to read. It is not bogged down with high theory or postmodernist language; the book is simply stated, efficient, and edifying. In fact, one can argue that in that way, the book is very much like Clint’s filmmaking process. Throughout the text, it is repeated that Clint never likes to film for too long, never likes to film too many takes, never goes over-budget, and never likes to complicate things; Foote’s book avoids these problems, as well.

Like most books, Foote’s work does lose some footing along the way. One such issue worth mentioning is that the constant talk about other actors’ and actresses’ careers sometimes overwhelms the text, and takes away from the thesis at hand. For example, in his section on Bird, Foote takes a great deal of time talking about Forest Whitaker, who is certainly a fantastic actor, and worthy of accolades for his amazing performance as Charlie Parker; but, is it necessary to get into his performances in The Crying Game, Phenomenon, (the brilliant) Ghost Dog, and (of all films) Phone Booth? Details like these move the reader away from the focus of the book—Clint Eastwood—and what he accomplished.

Foote, though, does generally focus his analysis on Eastwood’s work, more so at the end of his text where Eastwood’s movies become more and more socially and cinematically significant. In the 1970s and 80s he made films because they were interesting or fascinating to him story-wise or script-wise. Now, it seems like he chooses his films with more precision, with a better understanding of how society works and how humanity plays an important, and sometimes dangerous, role in it. Eastwood’s films are now more about morality and ethics and social injustice--think of the mercy killing of Frankie in Million Dollar Baby, the murder of Dave by one of his best friend’s, Jimmy Markhum, in Mystic River, the harsh language and stereotyping of Gran Torino, and the lack of caring from the police department in Changeling. In essence, what Eastwood evolved into was not only a great and resourceful filmmaker, but also an important part of the American fabric, trying to come to grips with violence, death, pity, compassion, the human condition with all its follies and foibles. Eastwood is a proficient director with a firm understanding of what to do behind the camera, but he is also a fine director with a firm understanding of cultural, spiritual, emotional, and physical differences of humans throughout the world; in other words, he understands individualism in a world that tries to conform at all costs.

John H. Foote certainly knows his stuff; his thoughts on the films are usually dead on, and his research is impeccable. He is a good writer with a good sense as to who his audience is. Because of that, Clint Eastwood: Evolution of a Filmmaker is easy-going and a fast read. One might like to see a little more substance about Eastwood’s thoughts on life, using the films as a way to back those claims up; even though Eastwood affects not to philosophize much, after watching his films one tends to believe that he does.