True Grit and Other Universal Stories: In Defense of (Some) Remakes3

by Edward Kelly

My friends and I used to hang around in parking lots quite a bit. Loitering was something of a past time, but not because we were latchkey kids or looking for someone to buy us beer. We just always ended up in parking lots. Didn’t matter how cold it was or how many cars were there, we’d be seen standing around talking about whatever for a couple hours. As we grew up we traded parking lots for apartments, bars, and diners.

So it came as somewhat of a surprise when one night a few months ago I, now way beyond appropriate parking-lot-loitering age, and my friend, who also put his parking-lot years behind him, ended up in a parking lot, doing the same thing we did as teenagers: arguing about entirely insignificant stuff. Or in other words, shooting the shit about Star Wars. See, I had had the audacity to suggest the unthinkable – that with the right creative team and a few tweaks, the original trilogy of Star Wars could and should be remade. This, in nerd terms, is the equivalent of videotaping yourself having sex with your best friends’ mother.

Remakes have become a dirty word – and rightfully so. They represent an utter lack of originality and inventiveness by the studios who are often so keen to bank roll them. Nearly every horror staple, from Freddy Krueger to Jason Vorhees, has been repackaged in a sleek new updated film. Heck, even Buffy is headed back to the silver screen, a news item that you may have read about on this very blog, and which, obviously, is going over swimmingly with fans.

Now, the accepted opinion on remakes (or reimaginings or reboots or whatever buzz word they’re using this week), at least among cinephiles, is that they are universally a bad idea. And, let’s face it, most of the time they are. They’re generally derivative and unfeeling and lack any spark of passion that the original creative team infused the original work with.

Unless the creative teams are true auteurs – then the stakes change, even if plot and characters remain the same. Consider, for example, the Coen brothers most recent film, True Grit. In all likelihood, it should have sucked. Filmmakers who are better known for making throwback noir comedies or quiet personal fare are not the most likely contenders to helm a Western of mythical status that is already considered a timeless classic. But the movie is, indubitably, one of the best of year. And if you think that’s a fluke, then how about we talk about Scorsese’s version of Cape Fear? A moody and atmospheric take on a classic film, aided by a tour de force Robert DeNiro performance that makes you ask “Mitchum who?”

True Grit and Cape Fear are remakes through and through. They have the same characters as the original and do not deviate too wildly from the source material. Yet they’re both modern masterpieces, proving that remakes have the potential to be more than worthwhile. Like covering a great song or retelling Shakespeare using cartoon lions, remakes are based around the idea that some stories are universal and worth revisiting. Almost 30 years separate the two Cape Fear versions and 40-plus years divide the True Grits, yet each feels relevant and necessary.

What many filmmakers don’t get that the Coen brothers and Scrosese clearly do is that some movies aren’t about telling a story – they’re about using art to evoke a response. It wasn’t that Max Cady was so memorable for terrorizing a lawyer and his family – it’s that everyone recognizes the sense of fear and uncertainty that comes with finding a “stranger” in your life. Similarly, True Grit is not just a Western. Sure, it’s got all the trappings of one – shootouts, horses, racism towards Native Americans – but at its core it’s a coming of age story about a headstrong girl who ultimately proves she has the mettle to come out on top.

Coming of age stories are often my favorite type of yarns and if you can manage to spin one without admitting it, well, then all the better. Ignore the brilliant nuanced Jeff Bridges performance or the dandy Matt Damon role and look at the movie for what it’s worth – the story of a girl who perseveres.

The point is this: it doesn’t matter if you give Freddy Krueger’s glove to someone else. If you don’t also hand the reins to someone who knows that Freddy is scary because of the surreal dreamscape he inhabits, then your movie is screwed from the opening title.

And if you don’t agree, cool. Meet me in the parking lot and we’ll hash it out.