Clint Eastwood

As if Detroit hadn’t endured enough pain last night with Justin Tucker’s outrageous last-minute 61-yard field goal kick to give the Baltimore Ravens the win on "Monday Night Football," today comes more evidence that the city is getting taken to the cleaners in its bankruptcy proceedings.

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Eastwood's bizarre performance perfectly channeled the free-floating, inchoate animus toward Obama.

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That empty chair wasn't the worst part of his RNC speech.

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Four or eight years from the next GOP primary, it's already hard to keep track of the talented potential candidates.

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[Guest post by Simon van Zuylen-Wood] As Flint and Auburn Hills prepare to weigh in on the anti-bailout Republican field in the upcoming Michigan primary, it’s worth rethinking the political subtext of Clint Eastwood’s “Halftime in America” Chrysler ad. To refresh: The ad piqued Republicans like Karl Rove because it appeared to implicitly endorse the 2008 and 2009 government bailouts that saved the company.

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As a friend of mine* once said, quotes from Karl Rove aren’t important for what they say. They are important for what they reveal. Rove’s statements about Sunday’s Super Bowl ad from Chrysler are a case in point. By now, you’ve probably seen or heard about the ad, which Chrysler calls “Halftime in America.” It stars Clint Eastwood, narrating the story of Detroit's comeback and turning it into a metaphor for America.

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The Front Line Norwegian Wood Khodorkovsky It used to be said that, paradoxically, a war film, even if its intent was anti-war, unavoidably conveyed excitements that were attractive. This paradox has seemed in recent years to be dwindling. For prime instance, Clint Eastwood’s companion films Flags of Our Fathers and Letters from Iwo Jima were as bareboned and glory-free (yet appreciative) as possible. Generalizations are risky in this vast genre, but at least some relatively recent war films have tried to be unseductive. Such is The Front Line from South Korea.

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Whatever respect you feel for Clint Eastwood, Leonardo DiCaprio, or even Warner Brothers (its distributor), I think you know that a $35 million dollar movie about J. Edgar Hoover, running over two hours (it often feels longer), is going to face this issue: Are we going to see Hoover in drag? You can argue that many things about this man are more important, but a movie is a movie. It depends on things it can show us, and this one runs the risk of “explaining” Hoover’s vicious pursuit of power (or his overcoming of insecurity) in terms of sexual repression.

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We are looking down on a plain building, without distinction or appeal. Its one point of interest seems to be that rapid, rushing water surrounds it to the height of ten feet or so. Then, the story begins. On the current of this water, a sequence of empty automobiles reverse tidily round the corner of the building—it’s very prettily done and somehow confirms the suspicion that drivers may be the problem in cars. A line of them, six or seven, complete the turn, without collision or dispute, and then reverse out of frame.

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The Healer

BLOEMFONTEIN, SOUTH AFRICA—It was as clear as the film’s most famous scene: The work of reconciliation in South Africa is not done yet. In February 2008, a video appeared online showing four white students from South Africa’s University of the Free State (UFS) hazing their black janitors as if they were new freshmen. There’s a beer-drinking contest, a footrace to “Chariots of Fire.” Near the end, the boys appear to pee into bowls of stew and urge the janitors to eat up. It was supposed to be an in-house joke, a protest against a plan to integrate their dorm, a student residence called Reitz.

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