C-L-I-N-T. In that short, sharp syllable, there is an emblem of American manhood and morality and sheer bloody-minded will, for better and worse, on screen and off, for more than sixty years. Whether he's holding a pistol, an orangutan, or a boxing glove; whether he's facing down bad guys on a western street (Old West or new, no matter); staring through the lens of a camera; or accepting one of his thirteen Oscars (including two for Best Picture); he is as blunt, curt, and solid as his name, a star of the old school stripe and one of the most prolific and accomplished directors of his time, a man of rock and iron and brute force: Clint. 

To tell the story of Clint Eastwood is to tell the story of nearly a century of American culture. No Hollywood figure so completely and complexly represents the cultural and political climates of contemporary America. At age ninety-four, he has lived a tumultuous century and embodied much of his time and many of its contradictions. 

We picture him most immediately as he has appeared to us on screen: squinting through cigarillo smoke in A Fistful of Dollars or The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly; imposing rough justice at the point of a .44 Magnum in Dirty Harry; sowing moral vengeance in The Outlaw Josey Wales or Pale Rider; abandoning farming for murder-for-hire in Unforgiven; grudgingly training a woman boxer in Million Dollar Baby; standing up for his neighbors despite his racism toward them in Gran Torino. But those are roles, however well-cast and convincing, and they are two-dimensional in comparison to the whole life. The reality of Clint Eastwood is far more rich, knotty, and absorbing—a saga of cunning, determination, and conquest, a great American story about a man ascending to the Hollywood pantheon while keeping a gimlet eye on its ways and habits and one foot firmly planted outside its door.