Gran Torino is simple but smart. Most of the plot unfolds in a leisurely and predictable manner. Critics have described it as “Dirty Harry gets old and cranky.” It is easy (and foolish) to dismiss the elderly as irrelevant or immigrants as ignorant. It is also foolish to underestimate the dramatic power of Gran Torino. Younger moviegoers desperately need the initiation rites and religious ruminations offered by the 78-year old director (and star!), Clint Eastwood.

Gran Torino continues Eastwood’s cinematic dance with the Catholic Church. In Mystic River (2003), an entire community wrestled with unsettling secrets. The movie poster announced the theme: “We bury our sins, we wash them clean.” In Million Dollar Baby (2004), Eastwood’s washed up boxer, Frankie Dunn, engages in an ongoing ethical debate with a priest in his local parish. It served as a timely commentary upon the controversy surrounding Teri Schiavo and her right to live (or die). Eastwood leans into messy, ethical dilemmas, both acknowledging and challenging church teaching. (For more on both of these haunting films, see my new book, Into the Dark).

Eastwood wrestles with mortality in Gran Torino. We first see Korean war veteran Walt Kowalksi at his wife’s funeral. A young priest piles on platitudes that fail to move Walt. Afterwards, the earnest and inexperienced Father Janovich fulfills her dying wish, inviting Walt to confession. But Kowalski can’t imagine confiding in a person who doesn’t deserve his respect. The burden on Walt’s soul feels far too substantial for such a lightweight cleric.

Amidst substantive spiritual questions, Gran Torino offers plenty of lacerating laughs. The cantankerous Kowalski spews racist comments toward his Hmong neighbors that violate all notions of political correctness. Such blatant bigotry is rarely heard in our public entertainments. Yet, first-time screenwriter Nick Schenk revels in Walt’s rough edges. Gran Torino violates all kinds of conventional wisdom in Hollywood, pitting a lonely, irascible widower against a family of immigrants. Eastwood dares to cast unknown actors like Bee Vang in crucial roles. And yet, Gran Torino works as a litany of sacrifice. Only Eastwood’s considerable leverage could get such a modest and miraculous film made.

The title refers to Walt’s prize possession, a ‘72 Gran Torino. Walt used to work on the Ford assembly line in Detroit. Now, both Walt and Michigan’s auto industry are fading. Despite its iconic status in Starsky & Hutch, the Gran Torino was never a great car. Dan Neil of the LA Times notes how Ford was caught flat-footed in the first gas crisis of the seventies. Gas-guzzlers like the Gran Torino were impractical and out of step almost from their day of release. Time has passed by both Walt and his car.

So can an old school vet like Walt make peace with the multiethnic future next door? It will not be an easy transition. There will be plenty of resistance. Blood may even be spilled in the process. But that former world will not withstand our postmodern present. Walt fights hard, until he develops an advanced form of surrender. Father Janovich adapts and grows alongside Walt. Despite all the racist invective, Gran Torino becomes a profoundly humanizing experience. It offers hope to all manner of estranged fathers and their sons struggling to become men. It is a fitting tribute to people like my own crusty old Dad.

Not since Martin Scorsese’s early work in Mean Streets and Raging Bull, has an American filmmaker so consistently addressed questions of guilt, absolution, and redemption. Has Eastwood the auteur found a rich dramatic vein, mining it to Oscar gold? Or is an aging director dealing with questions of mortality in a rarely seen, uncompromising manner. The answer may be a bit of both.