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Clint Eastwood is one bitter old man in “Gran Torino”

And the award for Best Scowl goes to … Clint Eastwood in “Gran Torino.”

In his latest drama, the grizzled filmmaker sports a puss so sour it could curdle milk. His narrowed eyes and tight lips practically drip venom.

As the film opens, Walt Kowalski (Eastwood) has just buried his wife — the only person, it seems, who’s kept this bitter old man from falling apart. Now he has nothing to live for, and nothing to lose.

Walt, a Korean War vet with firearms stashed in every drawer, is the last standoff in a Michigan neighborhood that’s gone from white suburb to immigrant stronghold. Gang violence is rampant. Signs of neglect are everywhere. Walt, of course, keeps his house pristine and his lawn meticulously mown — as if to spite his less tidy neighbors.

His only joy is the title car, a pristine 1972 Gran Torino.

The muscle car would send anyone into spasms of lust, but it’s a special temptation for the timid neighbor boy, Thao (Bee Vang), and the local Hmong gangstas eager to add him to their ranks. If he steals the car, he’s in — and his days as a picked-on twerp are over.

Thao sneaks into Walt’s garage one night with predictable results. The old guy points his rifle in the teen’s face. Thao freaks and runs away.

Walt gives the same loaded-weapon welcome to the gangbangers when they tussle with Thao on his own turf. Growling “Get off my lawn” as only a crusty codger can, he sends them sprinting.

Walt’s defense of the boy — and later, his sassy sister (Ahney Her) — earns him the gratitude of their huge Hmong family as well as a lifetime supply of chicken dumplings. His courageous acts stem more from his dislike for thugs than his love for his neighbors, but no matter.

As tension between Thao and the gang escalates, Walt finds himself taking the boy under his grizzled wing and teaching him the ropes of being a man.

“Gran Torino” isn’t one of Eastwood’s best. It lacks the pathos of “Million Dollar Baby,” the overarching drama of “Letters From Iwo Jima” and (at least some of) the world-weary grit of “Unforgiven.”

It is, however, a showcase for Clint at his most ornery.

He snarls. He trades scowls with the Hmong grandmother who lives next door. He shoots brown streams of chewing tobacco spit at the sidewalk to express his disdain.

Just watching the man kill can after can of Pabst Blue Ribbon is a lesson in “Grumpy Old Men” method acting. It’s a glorious sight.

“Gran Torino” also contains the biggest collection of racial and ethnic epithets I’ve seen on screen in recent years. Walt has a slur for everyone he encounters — from his Hmong neighbors to black gangbangers to his Italian-American barber — and he readily accepts jokes about his Polish heritage. More sheltered moviegoers will find themselves rushing to UrbanDictionary.com to figure out what it all means.

Yet “Gran Torino” thrives on its diversity. Eastwood assembled a cast of largely untrained Hmong actors for the film and the authenticity shows — even if some of the acting slips into patently bad territory from now and then.

Plot twists slide past predictably. Some heavier moments come across as unintentionally hilarious. And the feel-good ending feels a bit tacked-on.

Whatever its flaws, however, “Gran Torino” delivers one thing in full: the awesome sight of Clint Eastwood take charge like the original badass.

Watching this movie is like watching The Man With No Name and Dirty Harry, burned out after decades of hardship, swagger into your neighborhood bar and pound down a PBR.