It’s common to talk about the American character, but to
define it is like trying to nail jelly to a wall. The problem is, we are a
nation and a people of contradictions.
We've got our Horatio Alger myths about "self-made
men" pulling themselves up by their bootstraps, "born on third base"
success stories like those of George W. Bush - as well as more sincere
invocations of self-made success like Herman Cain’s, and alternative but
similar "hard work equals success" narratives such as Bill Clinton's
rise from "a place called Hope". We worship wealth and success, but
despise bankers and resent the superrich. Americans believe fervently in
education, but often disdain intelligent
discourse. We worship, side by side, FDR and Ronald Reagan, and simultaneously expect
the government to protect Social Security and Medicare, regulate industries
that could harm public safety, and fix the broken economy; at the same time
demanding lower taxes, less regulation, and a balanced budget. We are a nation
of laws, but we despise lawmakers as much as lawbreakers. In fact, we have a
history of mythologizing our more colorful lawbreakers: Billy the Kid, Jesse
James, Bonnie and Clyde, etc.
De Toqueville was on to something, though, when, 175 years
ago, he summed up the American character
as driven by individualism and self sufficiency. Back then, those who found settled
life oppressive could and often did light off for the territories. As these regions
were populated and civilized, however, Americans took a nostalgic look back at
the heroes and villains of the "wild West" - the last refuge of the truly
"rugged individual". Through much of the 20th century books and
movies about "the West", and particularly its hero, the cowboy, an
idealized exemplification of the American character, abounded. Westerns and
cowboys were a Hollywood staple: Hopalong
Cassidy, Lash Larue, Roy Rogers, John
Wayne, Stagecoach, Shane, High Noon, Rio Bravo, etc. Most of the heroes of
these pieces were outsiders, honorable loners on horseback, well meaning but
good with a gun, knights errant of the range, exemplifying the American ideals
of liberty, self-reliance, and quiet confidence.
Out of this tradition comes Jack Burns (Kirk Douglas), the anachronistic
protagonist of Lonely Are the Brave (Douglas’ favorite film, and one of his
very best). We meet Jack Burns in the opening scene, alone, in boots, denim and bandana, recumbent,
somewhere out there on the Southwestern range, with cowboy hat over his eyes, just waking up, his horse, Whiskey”, tethered and
grazing nearby. It’s a lovely iconic scene.
A growing rumbly sound intrudes on the scene, and as Jack slowly gazes skyward,
we see what he sees: a trio of jets streaking across the western sky, with white
vapor trails behind, upending our expectations. We understand that this is no
ordinary Western.
Its 1953. Burns has heard that his best buddy Paul has been
jailed (for helping illegal Mexican immigrants) and he’s coming back to see
what he can do about it. Coming home again is certainly more of a hassle than it used to be. For one thing, the land is
partitioned now; but Burns, anticipating that, simply cuts through the barbed
wire fence stretching for miles across his path. ( I imagine him quietly
singing Don’t Fence Me In, while doing this.) Crossing a busy highway buzzing with whizzing cars and trucks is a
thornier matter, especially with a
skittish horse, but he manages it. After dropping in on Paul’s wife (a young
Gena Rowlands, in her first featured film role), Burns figures he’s gotta bust
Paul outta jail. First he has to get himself arrested (in order to get to
Paul); then they’ll break out and resume their libertarian life, roving from
place to place, doing whatever they want to do. Neither jail nor society can constrain
truly free men, he argues. But Paul (Michael Kane), once a kindred spirit, has
changed; he’s got a wife and a kid now; they are the center of his life,
providing structure and meaning to his existence. He’s going to man up, do his
time, and get back to them as soon as possible.
Burns is a tolerant man. Each of us has to make their own choices
in life, and he respects Paul’s choice, even if he doesn’t really understand it.
Where Paul sees meaningful responsibility, Burns sees a restraint on freedom. He
busts himself out of jail, precipitating a manhunt/chase that takes up the last
half of the picture. All Burns needs to
do is get over the mountain ridge into the forestland beyond, and he’ll be
home-free into Mexico. Sheriff Johnson (Walter Matthau, playing against type as
a drawling southern lawman) understands
this and is going to do whatever it takes to stop him. This being modern times,
the contest is between a man and his horse versus a law enforcement posse equipped
with Jeeps, a helicopter, two-way radios, etc. In truth, it’s a struggle between unfettered liberty
and the constraints of a civilized society.
In the end, the law doesn’t get him but the modern world
does.
Lonely Are The Brave was written by the great Dalton Trumbo
(Roman Holiday, Spartacus) from a book by Edward Abbey (himself an
iconoclastic, libertarian and environmentalist) entitled The Brave Cowboy (An Old
Tale In A New Time). It was produced by
Douglas himself, who wanted to and succeeded in making a thought provoking film.
On one level, it’s a tribute to the Western
movies of the twenties, thirties, forties and fifties, and the cowboy literature
that preceded them, encompassing many of the familiar Western conventions: the
cowboy’s close relationship with his horse, the barroom brawl (this film’s got
a great one – with Douglas fighting a one armed man), the jailbreak, the sheriff’s
posse chasing a good man, two men of honor in love with the same woman, and so
on. On another level, it is a eulogy on the
death of the West and the Cowboy. At the same time, Lonely are The
Brave is a lament and commentary about the environmental ruination of the
Southwest, reflecting Abbeys lifelong concern. Phillip Lathrop’s excellent
black and white cinematography holds all of these themes together. It is
undoubtedly the most notable film that director David Miller ever made.
I’ve always liked Kirk Douglas (Lust for Life, Spartacus),
but he’s never been better than in this movie. In most of his roles, Douglas is
wound up very tightly, playing intense characters with pent up energy or
emotion ready to burst forth like a coiled spring; but as Jack Burns, he’s playing against that type. Burns is relaxed, comfortable
within himself, open, philosophical. He smiles a lot. And he looks great in
this picture: lean, fit, even youthful in his gait and posture – though he was
in his mid forties in 1962. His performance in the film’s emotional final scene is just fabulous: he says not a
word but conveys so much humanity with just his eyes, it will move you.
The other actors are good too, especially Rowlands, Matthau,
and George Kennedy as a mean prison guard/deputy sheriff. But this is Douglas’
movie (although Whisky, his horse, is pretty memorable as well).
This unforgettable but rarely seen classic gets my highest
recommendation.
Available streaming on Amazon, Google Play, iTunes and many other streaming services; and maybe on DVD from Netflix
Bike messengers, a growing occupational subculture in cities,
from San Francisco to Manhattan to London, are a distinctive group: young, fiercely
independent, disdainful of office work and ‘suits’, reckless in traffic, and casually
cool. The new urban action thriller, Premium Rush, successfully
harnesses all of these characteristics. The energy and exuberance of its attractive
young cast are undeniable and engaging, the movie’s artful structure and visceral
cinematography are invigorating, and the plot, involving a desperately indebted
NYPD detective who wants to steal a valuable Chiu-Chau Brotherhood (Chinese
underground bank network) chit, carried by an unwitting bike messenger, is a
good enough frame to make it all work.
The hero of the piece is a young man called Wilee (as in
Wiley Coyote), a guy who rides with abandon and lives that way, too. Summing
himself up, Wilee says, “I like to ride. Fixed gear. No
brakes. Can't stop. Don't want to, either.” Wilee is portrayed by the very
watcheable Joseph Gordon-Leavitt, who resembles the young Keanu Reeves, circa
Speed (1994). Gordon-Leavitt has been featured in a spate of recent pictures (Inception
(2010), Dark Knight Rises (2012), the upcoming Looper (2012) and Lincoln
(2012)), and his star is definitely on the rise. His compadres on wheels
include newcomers Dania Ramirez as Wilee’s girlfriend and Wolé Parks as his rival.
Watching these three fly through the urban landscape and streets of Gotham,
somehow avoiding all sorts of horrific accidents with pedestrians, taxis,
delivery trucks, and whatnot is, simply put, thrilling. Wilee’s adventures
begin when he picks up a “premium rush”, i.e. an urgent and important delivery,
uptown at Columbia Law School and has to get it to Chinatown post haste.
