True Grit: the masters of subversion go classical

Movie fans have come to expect certain things from a Coen brothers film. Foremost on the list of expectations is, conversely enough, to confound our expectations. Whether teleporting a hard-bitten noir crime story to small-town Minnesota with a pregnant, mumsy police chief as our guide (Fargo) or finishing a thrilling chase movie with a brutal rumination on their sheer randomness of life (No Country For Old Men), the brothers Coen are masters of the sly left turn.

These trademark jarring moments make it easy to forget that the Coens also clearly have a deep attachment to simple genre filmmaking, even if they do like to kick a genre down a flight of stairs every now and again. It's this unvarnished appreciation that seems to guide True Grit, the Coens' re-telling of the Charles Portis Western novel, 40 years after the Henry Hathaway version that yielded the Duke his first and only Oscar.

The movie follows Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld), a plucky 14 year-old who steams into town looking for a suitably tough lawman to help her track down Tom Chaney (Josh Brolin), the hired hand who shot her daddy down for the gold in his pocket and the horse beneath his saddle. What she gets is a two windbags, one drunk (US Marshall Reuben "Rooster" Cogburn, played by Jeff Bridges) and one sober but pompous (Texas Ranger LaBoeuf, played by Matt Damon). The three of them head out to the Indian Territories to bring Chaney to justice, where he's thought to be taking refuge with an outlaw gang led by the fearsome "Lucky" Ned Pepper (Barry Pepper).

True Grit is a Western with a capital W and an old, dusty six-shooter replacing the R. It's the kind of classically told, ripping yarn that faithfully adds to a genre that has mostly either been ignored or revised over the last decade. Mattie's journey with Rooster and LaBoeuf (pronounced "le beef", in as laconic a drawl as you can summon) has an irresistible sense of forward momentum as they pin down Pepper's gang of marauders. There's also a surprisingly light tone, as the two lawmen bicker over war records, marksmanship and honour, strutting like old hounds to impress their surprisingly formidable young ward.

There's still a smattering of stylised Coen touches, like the surreal moment that Rooster and Mattie, waiting for LaBoeuf, encounter a bizaare old witch doctor covered in a full bear pelt riding towards them. "That...is not...le beef," drones Rooster. The film's violence is not pervasive but, in true Coens style, is distressing and dehumanising when it does crop up, the shock of bullet wounds and finger amputations leavened only by Rooster's occasionally amusing brutalisation of LaBoeuf.

Roger Deakins' predictably superb (and now Bafta-winning) cinematography also brings the film a sense of detail that the original was happy to gloss over, the camera lingering over the ugly crevices of 19th century Arkansas (corpses, hangings) as much as its inspiring vistas (evergreen forests, autumnal plains, snowcapped peaks).

True Grit's heart lies with the three captivating performances at its centre. Mattie, Rooster and LaBoeuf form a strange triangle made credible and moving by Steinfeld, Bridges and Damon. The former two are getting plenty of attention for their portrayals of Mattie and Rooster, and deservedly so. Steinfeld avoids the typical precocious child performance trap with a genuine sense of wit and pitch-perfect dialogue delivery, while Bridges brings out Rooster's irascibility, poor social skills and deeply buried honour in a way that would have been beyond John Wayne even if it had been expected of him. But for me, Matt Damon stands out as LaBoeuf, a character who reveals the layers behind his loudmouthed vanity as the story progresses. The Texas Ranger's misguided attempts to take Mattie under his wing, as well as the genuine affection that grows between the two, is one of the film's chief pleasures. Rooster Cogburn might get to be the hero, but it's LaBoeuf's fragile nobility and unraveling ego that steals our hearts.

I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that the film's riveting storyline wasn't joined by an equally impressive sense of meaning. Although True Grit left me satisfied and elated, there isn't the rich seam of subtext that made No Country For Old Men such a meaty offering. The film does take some time to ponder on the fleeting nature of life in a callous era, and one scene involving a night-time ride that pushes Rooster to the limit of his failing frame is particularly effective at delivering that message.

But all in all, the impression that we're left with is a fine story, well told and beautifully acted, and one that could reward repeat viewings in the same way as another Coens genre classic, Miller's Crossing. Even if True Grit doesn't deliver much subtext-jerky to chew over, it's still an incredibly powerful, unashamedly traditional Western story. And that's a helluva thing, pard.