Prime Clint, the reluctant avenging hero, forced here to battle a faulty heart and a cleverly playful serial killer. This understated classic proves that even Eastwood’s minor movies tend to be tautly paced, cleverly constructed and richly satisfying.
The clever construction comes from the conceit that a top FBI agent might receive a heart transplant from a non-random donor. This sets in motion plenty of plot tension: between Clint’s retired G-man and the serial killer, not to mention with the flat-footed LAPD detectives who resent being out snooped. It even sets up weak-hearted Clint to get the girl, or at least the much younger woman played by Wanda De Jesus.
While less stellar than later masterpieces Gran Torino, Changeling, Letters from Iwo Jima, Flags of Our Fathers, Million Dollar Baby and Mystic River, Blood Work succeeds more completely than most crime thrillers from lesser directors and stars.
In his last starring role before looking elderly, Clint comes to terms with his mortality as an FBI agent who has a heart attack while chasing a suspect.
As is his wont, he surrounds his character with strong women.
A couple of strong supporting actors flesh out this great ensemble.
Oh yeah, keep an eye out for the attractive TV reporter who sticks a microphone in Clint’s face as he rushes to a crime scene about midway through the movie: the former Dina Ruiz of KSBW TV in Monterey, she’s been Mrs. Dina Eastwood for the past 15 years.
The ins and outs of heart transplants are explored. I’ve no personal exposure to this most intimate of all medical procedures, so found its use as a plot device tremendously intriguing. One wonders how heart transplant recipients or the families of donors might feel. Perhaps not so entertained.
Set in 2002, just before cell phones became ubiquitous, let alone smart phones, the movie shows how much more electronically connected we’ve become in less than a decade.