Clint Eastwood needs a hug. He makes some of the most sure-footed films in American cinema, with memorable characters facing real problems. But if we trace his latter career work from Unforgiven to Mystic River to Million Dollar Baby to the two Iwo Jima films and Changeling, we find films of spectacular beauty and chasms of despair. His films seem to continually make the point that we are alone in the world, fighting a battle we cannot win against death. I am surprised he has not adapted any of Cormac McCarthy’s work since their outlooks seem to match each other so well. Eastwood comes across so sweet and cheerful in interviews that I am nearly always shocked by the violence and darkness of his films.

Eastwood’s recent work Changeling tells the true story of Christine Collins (Angelina Jolie), a single mother in 1920’s Los Angeles. One day she returns from work and finds that her son Walter is missing. She begins to work with the Los Angeles police department and months later they say that they have found Walter. When Christine sees the boy, both she and the audience knows immediately that the boy standing before her is not her son, Walter. As she challenges the LAPD during one of their most corrupt eras, she fights against an organization that will do nearly anything to keep their image in the press in a positive light. The Reverend Gustav Briegleb (John Malkovich) befriends Christine and publicizes her plight. The LAPD retaliates by having Christine institutionalized for psychiatric reasons without any due process. As Christine continues her fight, the LAPD discovers a horrific series of crimes that take place in Wineville (near Riverside). These crimes are of such an evil and infamous nature, that the town of Wineville changes its name to Mira Loma. Christine’s story and the Wineville crimes may or may not be related.

The story behind Changeling is a guaranteed home run. It has pathos, tragedy, engaging characters, and elements of true crime. All the filmmaker needs to do is organize these components in a coherent manner. Eastwood succeeds for the first two-thirds of the film, but the last act unravels a bit. Granted, this may be the case of telling a true story where real life does not fall into a nice dramatic arc, but Eastwood had the same problem with ending Flags of Our Fathers. It seems that he was so in love with the material in both films that he had difficulty making choices in the cutting room.

As with any Eastwood film, the acting here is first-rate, especially Jolie. Her portrayal of Christine gives us a soft-spoken, but determined heroine. We feel her anger, we shudder at the injustice she suffers, and we sympathize with her plight. In Eastwood’s universe, one may not be able to defeat death, but resolution seems to come from the commitment to fight.