Tuesday, July 22, 2008
As a rule, the bad guys of film have never been physically imposing. Usually, it was not muscle or height or any other physically superior trait that convinced us that they were dangerous. It was their presence, an aggressive atmosphere that surrounded them, that moved with them; that thing that numbered them among the 'Not to be messed with' crowd. I'm speaking of James Cagney, Humphry Bogart, Edwaard G. Robinson, and others who have been rather unimpressive with regard to size, yet very impressive when it comes to that masculine and menacing...well, something or other.
It seems that most of the XY movie stars of today are somewhat lacking in that gunpowder and gristle so prevalent in actors of yesteryear. Not all, of course, but in many cases, I would say most, the film makers of today are giving us protagonists with a bit out of balance testosterone/estrogen levels.
For instance, James Cagney was actually unsettling, even scary as the intimidating gang leader, Cody Jarette, in White Heat – all five foot six of him. Here was a was short, not particularly muscular, even a bit small shouldered little man. Nonetheless, when he curled his mouth in that snarl and bared his teeth as he delivered a line about punching your ticket, you listened...and did not answer back!
Let's take Dustin Hoffman. Can you get any more intrinsically pusillanimous than him? In Straw Dogs, he played a sheepish, even pitiful American foreigner married to a flirty little vixen, Susan George, living in England and suffering taunts from the local thugs. In Papillion he played a mousey bespectacled prisoner who needed the protection of fellow convict, genuine tough guy Steve McQueen. However, when necessary, even Dustin Hoffman could present himself as a threatening character. In Straight time, he played a hardened and heavy fisted ex-con, out on parole, looking for a score. The character was rugged, salty, and one whose bad side you would not want to be on. And by damned, he sold it and sold it well.
So why is it that Tom Cruise, John Cusack, Colin Farrel, even supposed bad boy, Sean Penn, can't do the same? At least not nearly as well. I don't think it's the acting. John Cusack is a superior actor, better than Brad Pitt, yet he doesn't pull off the strong 'I can kick your ass and I know it' thing in Gross Point Blank and The Jack Bull like Brad Pitt does in Snatch and The Devil's Own. It may be a variety of factors: the writing, the directing, the make-up, the costuming, the camera work, or all of those and more.
Or it just may be the actor himself.
Perhaps some men have a certain something they exude that says, "Mess with me and it may cost you," while others, who may be of the same physical stature, have an unspoken yet present benignity, a relatively harmless aura about them that says, "I'm not particularly dangerous (for a further study on this see my column, Outlaws and Bankers).
Whatever it is, it's there, and it is obvious when you compare movies of today with those of a generation ago.
I wish we had more of the Cagneys instead of the Cruises because they seemed to represent more the true American spirit, the WWII ideal of courage, sacrifice, real manliness, even if some of the characters portrayed are despicable degenerates.
But alas, as goes the Society, so goes the Arts. And, as goes film, so goes its glorious and dangerous heroes; heroes that uncomfortably challenged the men and uncomfortably aroused the women.
So long John Wayne, Clark Gable, Kirk Douglass, and yes, so long James Cagney...you your kind will be greatly missed.
Keck
