Reading the Coens: "True Grit"

The Coen brothers are not Christian artists, but they are masters of their craft. And, while they appear to pay close attention to every detail in their stories and use every subtlety to advance their story, like most postmodern artists, they avoid being too specific about the meaning in their films. So, even though I am bringing my own preconceptions to their work that sees things likely unintended by them, I celebrate truth wherever I find it.


True Grit
“You must pay for everything in this world, one way and another. There is nothing free except the grace of God.”

The above quote comes from the opening narration, spoken by Mattie Ross, an old woman reflecting back on events in her childhood that will make up the story we are about to see. Those events are the death of her father murdered while away on business, her trip to collect his body, and her efforts to see the murderer brought to justice. The quote is also a fascinating statement that will impact the way the story of Mattie’s revenge quest plays out.

Mattie is a highly principled girl. She knows what she believes and wants, and she has an amazing ability to impose her will on everyone around her. In the first act of the film, we see Mattie conducting business in the town where her father died. She finds out where, Tom Chaney—her father’s murderer, likely fled to. She discovers that the law is likely to take no action to apprehend him and that she will need to secure a bounty hunter. She figures out which marshal she wants to hire and persists until he finally agrees to help. She also, in a comedic highlight of the film, negotiates with a stable owner to undo a deal he had made with her father to buy some ponies. Then she successfully re-buys one of them back for a much lower price.

“Well I need a pony, and I'll pay you ten dollars for one of them.”

“No, that's a lot price, no no... wait a minute... are we trading again?”

The marshal that Mattie decides to employ is Rooster Cogburn, because, according to the local sheriff, he has what she later calls, “grit.”

“Who's the best marshal?”

“Hmm, I'd have to think on that. Bill Waters is the best tracker. He's part Comanche; it is a pure joy to watch him cut for sign. The meanest is Rooster Cogburn; a pitiless man, double tough. Fear don't enter into his thinking. I'd have to say the fairest is L.T. Quinn; he always brings in his prisoners alive. Now, he might let one slip by evry now and then, but...”

“Where would I find this Rooster?”


Perhaps the most important scene in this opening act, is one where Mattie witnesses three men hanged for various crimes. It is a reminder that frontier justice is harsh and unyielding. And that people react in different ways when confronted with their sin. One man is repentant and devastated. He pleads with the crowd to make sure that his children will not make the same mistakes he did. Another is unrepentant and defiant. He is only being executed because he did not manage to kill the man he intended to. In his mind, his murdering motives were not wrong, they just accidentally impacted the wrong man. A native American is not allowed to give any last words at all.

As Mattie and Rooster are prepared to head out into the Indian Territory to hunt Tom Chaney, they are joined by a lawman from Texas named LaBoeuf. He is also hunting Chaney but for another murder. Mattie does not want LaBoeuf to catch Chaney, because for all her talk of impartial justice, what she really wants is revenge. It isn’t enough for Chaney to hang. He either has to hang for her father’s death, or she will kill him herself.

LaBeouf needs for Chaney to hang in Texas so that he can be paid. His is a mercenary drive, more than a quest for justice. He is also a boastful man, but after all—he is a Texas ranger. In another gem of a comedic line, after hearing LaBeouf use a Latin legal term, Rooster exclaims:

I am struck that LaBoeuf is shot, trampled, and nearly severs his tongue, and not only does not cease to talk, but spills the banks of English!

Rooster, on the other hand, is a more complicated character. He initially takes the job for the money. Although even the money does not seem like enough to interest him. It seems more likely that he is intrigued by Mattie and her persistence. Over the course of their hunt in the Indian territory, we see more and more of his history, an interesting one at that. He has been on both sides of the law. Before he was a marshal, he dabbled in bank robbery. He also, at some point, had a wife, a son and ran a restaurant.


For Mattie, who has always seen things from a very black and white perspective, her friendship with Rooster creates a lot of conflict. She is offended by him and his tactics. What had been described to her as mean and tough, turns out to be less “grit” and more indifference. He does whatever will help him and his current cause, with no thought for principle. And, he has a terrible problem with whiskey. The story has made it clear throughout that alcoholism is a source of much of the evil in the world. One of the hanged men in the beginning attributed his downfall to whiskey. Two bandits that Rooster and Mattie encounter on the hunt (who both end up dead) blame whiskey for their start down the path to evil. But, Rooster quickly gets drunk on their supply of whiskey and the whole hunt falls apart.

In the end, Mattie does find Chaney and tries to kill him on her own. When her gun fails, she is captured by the outlaw gang. Rooster negotiates with them for her safety, but also secretly works with LaBeouf on a plan to save her. Rooster’s part involves him singlehandedly taking on four other men. It is a brave, but also uncharacteristically selfless act on his part. It works, but Mattie is deathly injured. The story concludes with Rooster undertaking a herculean ride throughout the night to get her to safety. A ride that is accompanied by the tune of “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms,” a melody that has played over and over in the soundtrack to the whole film.

Mattie gets revenge in the end but learns along the way that there is more to humanity that right or wrong. In fact, it is more like there is just wrong and the afore mentioned grace of God. Her view of good and evil started out being exactly that: her view. Consider the following conversation:

Mattie: I gather that you and Mr. LeBoeuf have come to some sort of agreement. As your employer I believe I have a right to know the particulars.

ROOSTER: The particulars is that we bring Chaney in to the magistrate in San Saba Texas where they have a considerable reward on offer. Which we split.

MATTIE: I did not want him brought to Texas, to have Texas punishment administered for a Texas crime. That was not our agreement.

ROOSTER: What you want is to have him caught and punished.

MATTIE: I want him to know he is being punished for killing my father.

ROOSTER: You can let him know that. You can tell him to his face. You can spit on him and make him eat sand out of the road. I will hold him down. If you want, I will flay the flesh off the soles of his feet and find you an Indian pepper to rub into the wound. Isn't that a hundred dollars' value?

MATTIE: It is not. When I have bought and paid for something, I will have my way. Why do you think I am paying you if not to have my way?

ROOSTER: It is time for you to learn you cannot have your way in every little particular.

This is such a great Western story, one that endures and has been adapted twice, because it gives us this thoughtful interpretation of the legendary “frontier justice.” We like our cowboy heroes to be men of virtue and high ideals. Even higher ideals than the institutions and law of our great history. For that twenty-year period of our history after the Civil War, out beyond the edge of civilization, we like our stories to be about good and evil. In “True Grit” we get something that feels more honest and less white-washed. But something that at the same time gives us a glimpse of an even higher value than “frontier justice,” namely, grace.



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