Blood Work (2002)
Directed by Clint Eastwood
Written by Brian Helgeland & Michael Connelly

I don't buy into the notion of "guilty pleasures," that is to say, you just like what you like. There's just no need to dismiss something because it doesn't fit your profile. So I get really tired of people yammering on about how Ghost World was terrific (it was shit) and how they would never stoop to watch Titanic (it was alright).

But if I ransack my brain vigorously, I can see that there are some kinds of movies that appeal to me, though I wouldn't openly admit it, because I don't even consciously admit it to myself. What kinds of movies? No, nothing clearly "guilty" like, say, Freaky Friday (I love that kind of shit), nor, like, The Hulk (that type of thing does nothing for me). It's latter-day Clint Eastwood movies.

I can't explain it. There's absolutely no coolness factor to it. They're never very good. But something clicked in me with In the Line of Fire and I've never quite shaken it. I just like to watch Clint Eastwood kick some ass while aging gracefully.

Blood Work is not notable in almost any way, but Clint delivers an elegant and vulnerable performance as a retired FBI man who is compelled to solve the murder of the woman whose transplanted heart he received. He's as confident as in any of the Dirty Harry movies, but there's a gravity to his actions nowadays that stems from the much more real probability of his death. Even Batman would think about mortality at age 70 following a heart transplant.

And so, Blood Work was a lot more watchable than it should have been, especially given that it's contrived bullshit from the get-go. The script is simply terrible; the dialogue corny when it is at all coherent; the acting frequently laughable; the plot twists predictable almost from before you even start watching the film. Like, I knew Jeff Daniels was the killer upon seeing his name in the opening credits.

Anjelica Huston is wasted in a lame role as Clint's doctor, and Paul Rodriguez is drafted in as the pointlessly contentious police detective who reflexively gets his dander up every time Clint does anything. And there's a forced romance angle that you keep hoping won't happen, then it does.

Oh, and it's the kind of movie where when Rodriguez gets mad, he starts swearing in Spanish. That joke is what, 50 years old by now? It should have been buried forever with Desi Arnaz.

Yet I didn't have a bad time watching it. Clint is great. He seems like a really genuine guy, and his voice has a gravelly tint now that makes you realize he won't be around forever. He's not leaping around preposterously in defiance of his age … when he gives chase in Blood Work, he knows it may kill him. It feels right, and it lends a layer of suspense to the proceedings that has nothing to do with the actual plot.

So this one's for the inexplicable Clint Eastwood fan in all of us, whether we admit we have that part or not. At his age, I'll be lucky to have a fraction of Clint's honest grace. I'm sure I'll just be sitting in a chair, posting Internet reviews of adult diapers as I soil them. Hell, I pretty much do that now.

Review by Green-Green Yoshifoto