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There’s always a moment in a Clint Eastwood-directed film, or maybe two or three, where you become uneasy, not certain he’ll manage not to cross the line that separates earnest from corny. Think back at the hospital scenes in “Million-Dollar Baby,” at the grudging friendship developing between a bigoted old white man and his Asian neighbors in “Gran Torino” and so forth. “Invictus,” ... more >