"Sometimes nothing is a real cool hand."
Cool Hand Luke was, for me, one of those extremely famous, indispensable movies that I had just never gotten around to (A Clockwork Orange is another that springs to mind). Netflix has proved to be a wonderful tool for rectifying this and so, last week I was able to check Cool Hand Luke off the list.
Cool Hand Luke was released in November of 1967, during the death throes of the Hayes Production Code, which had been ensuring since 1934 that sex, graphic violence and bad language of any kind would never be enjoyed by American audiences. Although it wasn't completely done away with until 1968, 1967 was the year when flagrant disregard for the Code began to bleed into cinemas, most famously (and literally) in Arthur Penn's Bonnie and Clyde. Although Cool Hand Luke is nowhere near as graphic as that film, some sequences (and more noticeably some of its themes) are still strikingly edgy for a movie that is now over 40 years old.
In case you, like I until recently, have not seen the film, here's a brief synopsis of the plot, which, in true late 1960's/early 1970's style, is fairly minimalist. Lucas Jackson (Paul Newman) is a decorated war veteran (I assume Korea; its never specified) who becomes a drunken shitkicker and is arrested for cutting the heads of parking meters in a Georgia backwater while on an epic bender. Given the apprently Draconian legal system that existed in the South during the 60's, Luke ends up sentenced to two years on a chaingang, overseen a gentlemanly sadist (Strother Martin) and his chief enforcer, a nearly mute guard in mirror Aviators known as the Man With No Eyes (Morgan Woodward). Despite his initial indifference to his situation, Luke eventually becomes a sort of savior to his fellow inmates when personal issues cause him to rebel against their oppressive guardians, first in small ways, which eventually graduate to multiple escape attempts and end in the sort of uplifting tragedy that seemed to often define 60's counter-culture.
So. Does this movie deserve its status as a classic of both its era and cinema in general? Fuck yes. And for several reasons. First and foremost is Paul Newman's towering performance as the title character. I'd always enjoyed Paul Newman's work (Butch and Sundance is endlessly fun, and The Hustler, made six years before Cool Hand Luke, was also decades ahead of its time), but his performance in Cool Hand Luke is clearly one for the ages. Although he spends most of the movie coasting on his easy charm and wise-ass good looks, Newman creates a pressure cooker of a character who's explosive finale actually ends up being less interesting than the simmering build-up. Newman's ice blue eyes are his greatest assest; masking what he's thinking while still allowing him to exude a range of emotions with the subtlest of looks. If it sounds like I'm in love with him...it's a distinct possiblity. The guy is just awesome. I could point to a half a dozen best scenes, most of them famous, but the greatest (in my opinion) comes when Luke, after receiving some devastating personal news, sits on his bunk and sings 'Plastic Jesus' while playing his little banjo. It's not flashy, but holy shit is it affecting.
The rest of the cast is excellent as well, creating an exciting and entertaining world confined to the small barracks and stretch of highway to which these men have been condemned. Stands out include the previously mentioned Strother Martin as the evil Captain (who utters the infamous line regarding communication and Luke's failure to do so) and George Kennedy as Dragline, the de facto leader of the inmates who goes from being Luke's worst enemy to his most stridant supporter. Kennedy's broad, old-fashion theatricality makes for a nice balance to Newman's reserved method acting, and their relationship is certainly the most heartfelt one in the film. Keep an eye out for Dennis Hopper as an inmate in the background of many scenes.
As you may have assumed when reading the plot description, Cool Hand Luke doesn't exactly have the most original narrative in the history cinema but, as I mentioned earlier, it is able to put a bleak, almost existential twist on a well-worn story. One of the things that personally struck me regarding the movie was Luke's apparent atheism at the start of the film. Luke never comes out and says he doesn't believe in God, but his dismissal of other peoples religious leanings and his general cynicism toward the world must have seemed off-beat at the very least to audiences in 1967, given that casual atheism is still a fairly taboo subject in America today. And although the movie cops out a bit at the end, with Luke apparently revealing that, while he blames God for all the misery he has unjustly suffered, he nonetheless believes in him. I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed, but I'm willing to give the film credit for portraying a sympathetic hero who harbors such justified disbelief and anger toward God.
There's a lot to take away from Cool Hand Luke, from its place as a stepping stone toward modern American cinema, to its humane and insightful ideas on justice and redemption. If anything, it's left me with a strong desire to delve further into Paul Newman's filmography. Apparently I've been short changing myself all these years.
No comments:
Post a Comment