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Clint Eastwood: An ideological study of his films, star image, and popularity

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Clint Eastwood: An ideological study of his films, star image, and popularity

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Content CLINT EASTOOD: AN IDEOLOGICAL STUDY
OF HIS FILMS, STAR IMAGE, AND POPULARITY
by
Richard Beau Cheatham
A Dissertation Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
(Communications)
May 1992
Copyright 1992 Richard Beau Cheatham
UMI Number: DP22475
All rights reserved
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This dissertation, written by
R i c h a r d , B e a u < # C he a t h a m ................................
under the direction of s Dissertation
Committee, and approved by all its members,
has been presented to and accepted by The
Graduate School, in partial fulfillm ent of re
quirements for the degree of
D O C T O R O F P H IL O S O P H Y
/ Dean of Graduate Studies
Date ................
DISSERTATION COMMITTEE
v. /- " > / Chairperson
^ .
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter
I. INTRODUCTION TO THE DISSERTATION......................... 1
Clint Eastwood and his Star Image ......................... 1
Justification and Purpose . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
Method ....................... 12
II. IDEOLOGY: PHILOSOPHICAL CONSIDERATIONS . . . 16
Introduction....................................... 16
Karl Marx ................... 18
Louis Althusser ....................................... 25
A Working Definition................................................................ 38
III. IDEOLOGY AND THE CINEMA . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
Post-Structuralism and Patriarchal Ideology . . . . . . . 43
Cinema and the Spectator..................................................... 47
Cinema as a Hegemonic Apparatus . . . . . . . . . . 49
Cinema and the Resolution of Contradictions..................... 52
Conclusion....................... . 56
IV. CLINT EASTWOOD: THE IMAGE ( I ) ............................................60
Introduction............................... 60
Rawhide and Rowdy Yates ................... 63
The Man with No Name .............................. 65
The Image Becomes Politicized..................... 76
War and Early Variations on an Im a g e ...................................... 84
Harry Callahan..............................................................................95
ii
Chapter
V. CLINT EASTWOOD: THE IMAGE (II) . ...................109
Joe Kidd (19721................................................................... 110
High Plains Drifter (1 9 7 3 )....................................................... 117
MaomMLEflcca (1 9 7 3 )..............................................................126
Thunderbolt and Liahtfoot (19741 134
The Eiger Sanction (1975) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141
The Outlaw Josev Wales (1976) . . . . . . . . . . . 147
VI. CLINT EASTWOOD: THE IMAGE (III) ......................... 163
Introduction.................................................................................. 163
The Enforcer (19761.................................................... 165
The Gauntlet (19771..................................................................174
Every Which Wav But Loose (1 9 7 8 )..................................... 182
VII. CLINT EASTWOOD: THE IMAGE (IV) .......................193
Escape from Alcatraz (1979) f . 193
BEQ D C O -B iH y (1980) ....................... 199
Any Which Wav You Can f 19811................... 209
VIII. CLINT EASTWOOD: THE IMAGE (V).........................................216
Elate* (1 9 8 2 )....................................................................... 216
Honkvtonk Man (1 9 8 3 )....................................................... 223
Sudden Impact (19831 ................... 230
Tightrpps (1984) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241
IX. CLINT EASTWOOD: THE IMAGE (VI) . . . . . . . . . 252
City Heat (1984) ........................................ 252
Pale Rider (19851........................... 259
X. CLINT EASTWOOD: THE IMAGE (VI)
POLITICAL INTERLUDE: THE CARMEL CAMPAIGN
AND MAYORALTY ..................................................................277
The Campaign....................... 277
The Mayoralty ....................................................... . 288
Chapter
The Planning Commission M assacre..................................288
Mission R anch ........................................................................293
Stepping D o w n ................................... 296
Eastwood’s Legacy .................................................................302
XI. CLINT EASTWOOD: THE IMAGE (VIII) ...................................309
Heartbreak Ridge (1 9 8 6 1 ........................................................309
Bird (1 9 8 8 )............................................................................... 324
The Dead PpqI (1988) ........................................... 334
XII. CLINT EASTWOOD: POPULARITY, IDEOLOGY,
ASSESSMENT........................................................................ 349
Introduction....................................... 349
The Masculinity Crisis ....................... 352
Ideological Work and Popularity......................................... 366
Assessment . .................................. 382
BIBLIOGRAPHY................................................................. 391
iv
Chapter One
Introduction to the Dissertation
I. Clint Eastwood and his Star Image
Since his role as The Man with No Name in a series of Italian
westerns, Clint Eastwood has become “ the most famous and successful
movie star of the last twenty years."1 During this time, Eastwood, follow
ing the lead of other actors, turned to producing and directing to ensure
greater creative control over his film projects. Very quickly his directorial
skills garnered critical attention, with auteur status eventually accorded
him by several commentators.2 Eastwood has become honored and en
vied as a filmmaker and as an immensely astute businessman whose
tight shooting schedules and modest budgets are never exceeded.3
These accomplishments are attributable, however, to the popular
ity of Eastwood’s screen persona and the films in which it appears. As
1 David Thomson, “ Cop on a Hot Tightrope” Film Comment Septem-
ber-October 1984: 64.
2 Richard Thompson and Tim Hunter, “Clint Eastwood, Auteur." Film
Comment January-February 1978: 24-32.
3 Ric Gentry, “Fora Few Dollars Less: Clint Eastwood, Director.” Mil
limeter March 1983: 67.
1
capable a director as he may be, his skill behind the camera does not fill
theaters by itself. Box office receipts indicate that audiences flock to see
Clint Eastwood the action star regardless of who directs his films. The
key to his success and his marketability lies with his star image, one typi
cally identified with rugged individualism, physical prowess, and emo
tional toughness. So thoroughly have the man, his roles, and his image
become intertwined that “ Clint Eastwood" now personifies that particular
combination of human attributes.
Eastwood’s reputation within Hollywood as “ a man in tight con
trol” of his projects similarly describes the characters he portrays.4 Usu
ally they are self-sufficient loners, men finding themselves “ betrayed by
authority...or caught in the middle of mutually exclusive moral forces.” 5
Adhering only to personal codes, they rebel against superiors and sys
tems they discover lack wisdom or moral integrity. An Eastwood hero
looks to himself to resolve conflicts. His demonstration of a simple, rigid
moral disposition often results in violent action, often killing. The degree
of destructive physicality prevalent in Eastwood’s persona has shocked
several commentators, resulting in a highly ambivalent attitude toward
the characters he depicts.6 Norman Mailer sees them as “ psychopaths
4 William Bates, “ Clint Eastwood: Is Less More?” New York Times 17
June 1979, pt. 2: 23.
5 Ric Gentry, “Director Clint Eastwood: Attention to Detail and In
volvement for the Audience,” Millimeter December 1980: 129.
6 For one of the most bitter, see Pauline Kael, “Killing Time,” New
Yorker 14 January 1974: 84, 87-89.
2
who acted with all the silence, certainty, and gravity of saints,” but won
ders “ would it be closer to say that he played saints who killed like psy
chopaths?” 7
Regardless of which view of Clint Eastwood’s heroes is privi
leged, his immense popularity is beyond question.8 Eastwood accounts
for it in two ways. First, he sees his success emanating from the way in
which he satisfies audience expectations of how an American should
look and act.9 Richard Schickel believes Eastwood has been so suc
cessful in doing this, he considers the actor “ an American archetype.”1 0
Second, Eastwood looks to the kinds of characters he portrays and the
function they perform for the viewing subjects:
A young man sits alone in a theater. He’s young
and he’s scared. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do
with his life. He wishes he could be self-sufficient, like
the man he sees up there on the screen, somebody who
can look out for himself, solve his own problems. I do
the kinds of roles I’d like to see if I were digging pools
and wanted to escape my problems.1 1
7 Norman Mailer, “ All the Pirates and People.” Parade 23 October
1983: 7.
8 Eastwood’s films have earned well over $1.5 billion and theater own
ers have voted him the top screen attraction in 1972, 1973, 1984, and
1985. Tim Cahill, “ Clint Eastwood: The Rolling Stone Interview.” Rolling
Stone 4 July 1985: 20.
9 Cahill 4.
1 0 Richard Schickel, “ Good Ole Burt: Cool-Eyed Clint.” Time 9 January
1978: 48.
1 1 Schickel 48.
3
In offering these explanations for his popularity, Eastwood is al
luding to the ideological work which he and other stars perform. Richard
Dyer develops this idea at some length in Stars, his excellent text on star
criticism.1 2 Among his basic conclusions is that stars embody notions of
what it means to be an individual in a given society. These actors furnish
individuated images of recognizable social types who function as role
models, exemplifying and reinforcing particular ways for a society’s mem
bers to think, value, and behave.1 3 Stars can also reaffirm threatened
social values and compensate viewers for qualities they feel their lives
lack.1 4 Eastwood, as his self-understanding indicates, functions ideolo
gically as a specific image of American masculinity, reaffirming conserva
tive social values and traditional sex role identity elements while com
pensating audiences, and men in particular, for their feelings of confu
sion, defensiveness, and inadequacy.
Among its concerns, star criticism examines the significance of a
star image and the relationship it has to social tructures and cultural val
ues.1 5 While a star is associated with a recognizable social type, his
image may in fact encompass a spectrum of types.1 6 Within each type,
1 2 Richard Dver. Stars (London: British Film Institute, 1979).
1 3 Dyer 183.
,4Dyer32-33.
1 5 Dyer 2-3.
1 8 Dyer 54.
4
variations often abound; few stars play the same character every time.
Star images are usually ambiguous in their signification, changing over
time and rarely functioning in only one dimension. Various roles can
reinforce each other or they may be marked by contradictions. For ex
ample, Eastwood’s Harry Callahan in Dirty Harry and The Gauntlet’s
Ben Shockley are both tough policeman but Harry epitomizes a cool,
nearly omniscient professionalism while Shockley behaves initially as a
thick-headed bumbler, surviving for a time only on the wisdom of a
hard-boiled prostitute. Dyer uses the notion of “ structured polysemy” to
designate this range of "multiple but finite meanings and effects that a
star image signifies.”1 7
As a star's image varies overtime, it is possible to chart its devel
opment and the changes in its signification.1 8 Throughout his career,
Clint Eastwood has enjoyed a certain consistency of image. Yet, as the
Callahan/Shockley example indicates, there have been variations on his
tough guy image. What makes Eastwood especially provocative is the
extensive self-reflexiveness in his work.1 9 His films continually interro
gate his image, often challenging and undermining the very ideological
assumptions which account for its popularity. Most critics and audiences
perceive Eastwood’s image as one-dimensional, seeing it as rather sim
ple and straightforward. The analysis of his work and image to emerge
,7Dyer 72.
1 8 Dyer 73.
1 9 David Kehr, “ A Fistful of Eastwood: Ten Tapes to Make Your Day,”
American Film March 1985: 64.
5
from this dissertation, however, reveals that they are far more complex
and socially relevant than is either generally acknowledged or under
stood.
To speak of “Eastwood’s films” in no way limits the discussion to
only those which he has directed. Practically every film in which he has
appeared since 1964 is marked by his creative influence. Although his
company, Malpaso, has produced most of his films, Eastwood’s associa
tion with them surpasses merely financial investment. His persistent in
volvement in each project’s development, production, post-production,
and marketing reveals that he is the dominant personality in the creation
of his films. Eastwood’s presence is most obvious on the screen but it
also oversees the means of production and artistic determinations. For
this reason, any examination of Eastwood’s image must examine his act
ing oeuvre from 1964 to the present. Only In this way will it be possible
to understand the ideological work Clint Eastwood performs as a star and
as a filmmaker.
II. Justification and Purpose
Film critics in the popular media only began to treat Clint East
wood seriously in the late Seventies. Before that they often dismissed
him summarily for his violent roles and laconic style. Eastwood acknowl
edges that he was “never a discovery of the press.” 2 0 Yet when an ac
tor’s international popularity continues unwaveringly for two decades,
then that star and his popularity require critical attention.
2 0 Mailer 7.
6
Any major film star will inspire a spate of biographies and elabo
rate "coffee table” filmographies. Those about Eastwood chronicle his
rise to fame and describe his films but generally fail to do either ade
quately. A body of critical writing has emerged, however, which treats
Eastwood as an important filmmaker. This ranges from Sunday supple
ment cover stories in Parade2 1 and The New York Times Magazine2 2 to
lengthy articles in cinema journals2 3 and prestigious literary and political
periodicals.2 4
Adding to the respectability Eastwood now enjoys was his recep
tion in January, 1985, of France’s Chevalier des Arts et Lettres, along
with a directorial retrospective at Paris' Cinematheque. A popular cri
tical establishment that largely rejected him earlier as “Neanderthal” and
“ one-dimensional” was now discovering significance and complexity in
his work. As John Vinocur suggests, this trend may indicate more about
the fluctuating ideological orientations of critics than of changes in the
ideological content of Clint Eastwood’s films.2 5
2 1 Mailer 4-7.
2 2 John Vinocur, “Clint Eastwood, Seriously.” New York Times Maga
zine 24 February 1985: 16-21, 24, 26, 28, 30.
“ Thompson and Hunter 24-32; Jacques Zimmer et al., “Clint East
wood: Acteur Realisateur.” La Revue du Cinema-lmaqe et Son n. 335
Janvier 1979: 51-78.
2 4 Robert Mazzoco, “ The Supply-Side Star,” New York Review of
Books 1 April 1982: 34-39; Richard Grenier, “ The World’s Favorite
Movie Star.” Commentary April 1984: 61-67.
“ Vinocur 16.
7
The more thoughtful articles about Eastwood fall into three gen
eral categories. The first group examines his work as a director. Critical
attention centers on stylistic concerns, Eastwood’s reliance on intuition,
and his success at bringing in films ahead of schedule and under bud
get.2 6 Other directorial studies trace the cinematic influences on his work
and how these join with biographical experiences to find expression on
the screen.2 7
A second type examines Eastwood’s function as a masculine sex
role model. Since his image as a tough guy is complimented by his ero
tic/romantic physicality, Eastwood is one of the few stars that both men
and women find attractive.2 8 Yet his problematic depiction of the ideal
American male through impassive, violent characters has alarmed sev
eral commentators. Pauline Kael has consistently blistered Eastwood’s
“ fascist” heroes while Joan Mellen speaks for many feminists in con
demning his prototypical patriarchal hero.2 9 Keenly aware of the cine
ma's power to idealize and reinforce certain gender role images, these
critics lament Eastwood’s role in perpetuating decidedly traditional no
tions about the imperatives of manhood.
2 e Ric Gentry, “Director Clint Eastwood: Attention to Detail and In
volvement for the Audience,” Millimeter December 1980: 126-33.
2 7 Mailer; Thompson and Hunter.
2 8 Thompson and Hunter 27.
2 9 Kael 84; Joan Mellen, Big Bad Wolves: Masculinity in the American
Film (New York: Pantheon Books, 1977) 2, 14-16.
8
Finally, there are those writers who conceptualize Eastwood’s
popularity within the context of the shifting tides of political ideology
which have characterized American culture during the past two decades.
Among the first, Robert Mazzoco describes Eastwood as “ the supply side
star” whose films mirror certain dimensions of Ronald Reagan’s political
and social philosophy.3 0 This theme is advanced by Richard Grenier
who, like Mazzoco, focuses on Eastwood’s Harry Callahan films as the
star’s most significant. Grenier sees Eastwood/Harry's popularity as
symptomatic of an American public which has soured on liberalism’s im
potent response to street crime.3 1 Expanding this notion, John Vinocur
introduces an element of class conflict. He believes these films reflect
blue collar frustrations with bureaucratic inefficiency and intellectual jar
gon. Harry overcomes such obstacles to rid society of criminals whose
reign of terror is inadvertently perpetuated by those affluent, well-mean
ing, but removed and hopelessly naive classes. This would explain
Eastwood’s immense following among inner-city blacks whose first-hand
experience of crime encourages them to welcome the strong, decisive
action which Harry typically enacts.3 2
While he shares certain emphases with these commentators, Nor
man Mailer highlights ideological concerns related to Eastwood’s cele
bration of western working class life and its good ole boy heroes. In pri
vileging certain westerns, the Philo Beddoe farces, Bronco Billv. and
3 0 Mazocco 34.
3 1 Grenier 67.
“ Vinocur 24.
9
Honkvtonk Man. Mailer discovers Eastwood's “ own vision of life in
America . . . a homegrown philosophy, a hardworking everyday subtle
American philosophy,” rooted in Southwestern small town living.3 3 Mai
ler’s decision to emphasize this aspect of Eastwood’s image rather than
his Harry Callahan series demonstrates Richard Dyer’s concept of struc
tured polysemy “ in which a star signifies a multiplicity of meanings, some
of which are complimentary while others are quite contradictory.” 3 4
It is apparent from this brief survey of the literature about Eastwood
that different facets of his star image are under consideration. One fore
grounds his police tough guy, another his masculinity, and another the
small town, blue collar hero. What each commentary overlooks, how
ever, is that Eastwood, like most stars, portrays a range of characters
who share certain affinities but who also differ considerably. He is not
always The Man with No Name or Harry Callahan. Eastwood also plays
street fighter Philo Beddoe, Carmel disc jockey Dave Garver, and Wild
West star/impresario Bronco Billy McCoy. The critical tendency has been
to accentuate one of these at the expense of the others, resulting in over
simplification and reductionism. This study of his star image, films, ideol
ogical importance, and popularity expands these attempts which, as in
sightful as they are, have each focused upon only one dimension of
Eastwood’s work. This dissertation endeavors to explain Clint East
wood’s ideological significance by conceptualizing it within a context
3 3 Mailer 6.
3 4 Dyer 72.
10
which will both inform the concerns of these critics and provide a means
of integrating them into a meaningful whole.
This dissertation takes as its starting point the international popu
larity of Clint Eastwood. Its purpose is to account for it. Of central con
cern is its specificity to this historical moment. What explanations can be
given for Eastwood’s sudden rise to fame and the steadfast following he
maintains? Richard Dyer, in tackling questions of this kind, rightly atttri-
butes a particular star's popularity to the ideological work his/her image
performs in that society. “ One needs to think in terms of the relationships
.. . between stars and specific instabilities, ambiguities and contradic
tions in the culture.” 3 5
Ideology is understood as a body of explicit and/or implicit as
sumptions and beliefs about and attitudes toward reality that find expres
sion as systematic, formal ideas as well as in everyday common sense.3 6
It can refer to an expansive worldview or designate the ways human be
ings understand a particular field of knowledge or human endeavor. Of
ten given to inconsistency, irrationality, and constant change, ideology
nevertheless provides the means by which individuals and groups con
ceptualize experience and make sense of the world and their relation
ship to it. As a form of cultural production, cinema, like literature and the
ater, performs ideological work by propagating certain underlying ideolo
3 5 Dyer 35.
3 6 Stuart Hall, Bob Lumley, and Gregor McLennan, “Politics and Ide
ology," Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies, On Ideology (Lon
don: Hutchinson and Co., 1978) 48.
11
gical assumptions about what constitutes reality and how it should be
structured, understood, and valued. Like other films, Eastwood's function
as ideological discourses which reinforce ways of understanding social
problems and behaving in human relationships. They also temper the
psychological tensions inherent in very real social and personal conflicts
by providing resolutions to them. A star’s persona can also resolve simi
lar contradictions associated with such identity crises as life style and
gender role choices.
The predominant characteristic of Eastwood’s image on screen as
well as off is that of the rugged individualist, the self-determined and in
dependent man whose success affirms the legitimacy and possibility of
individuality and personal freedom. For much of the public, he also re
affirms the viability of the traditional masculine sex role model. This dis
sertation assumes that these are major keys for explicating his popularity.
The ideological work his image performs in resolving the cultural contra
dictions which comprise the contemporary crises of individuality and
masculinity lies at the heart of this study of Clint Eastwood’s significance
and popularity.
III. Method
This dissertation begins with a discussion of the philosophical
issues relating to ideology which have shaped recent discussions in film
theory and criticism. It continues by articulating the relationship between
ideology and the cinema. In formulating an understanding of ideology, it
draws upon the thought of influential philosopher Louis Althusser, who
12
understands ideology as providing the structures through and by which
individuals develop a sense of reality and their relationship to it.
In following Marx, Althusser underscores the resolution of contra
dictions as a central function of ideology. Films, like other works of art,
are not reducible to ideology but they do perform ideological work, com
municating on the level of feeling descriptions of human experience.3 7
They rework reality and present it from particular perspectives that sug
gest courses of social action and ways of valuing. In doing so, they unin
tentionally, but occasionally intentionally, work to resolve contradictions,
ambiguities, and tensions prevalent in the culture. Richard Dyer’s expla
nation of a star’s popularity at a specific historical moment assumes such
a cinema/ideology relationship.3 8 This study proceeds from this funda
mental understanding in its endeavor to explain Clint Eastwood’s signifi
cance and that of his films. The opening section will explicate such theo
retical, critical considerations.
The ideological analysis of a star image necessitates concentra
ting upon the most dominant characteristics associated with the star. As
one within the tough guy tradition, Eastwood combines rugged individ
ualism and physical prowess with physical eroticism in nearly all of his
films. Regardless of their perspective, nearly all the critical commentaries
on Eastwood emphasize these qualities to some extent. This combina
tion is certainly not new to the cinema; what is intriguing, however, is its
3 7 Althusser, Louis, Lenin and Philosophy and Other Essavs. trans. Ben
Brewster (New York and London: Monthly Review Press, 1971) 221-222.
3 8 Dyer 36.
13
sustained popularity at a time when its expression is increasingly labeled
dysfunctional, anachronistic, and often downright socially dangerous.3 9
Concentrating upon these elements of his star persona, this dis
sertation will trace the career of Eastwood’s image from his role as Row
dy Yates on the television series Rawhide in the late Fifties to his most
recent films of the Eighties. It will examine film texts, critical reviews,
commentaries, and his political service to trace the evolution of East
wood’s image and significance through a career which is more complex,
contradictory, and self-reflexive than is generally recognized or acknowl
edged.
Clint Eastwood’s importance, however, surpasses his popular
image. He is also an influential filmmaker. As the principal determina
ting force behind his films, Eastwood guides them in directions sympa
thetic to his concerns. Like most films, his shape the elements of reality
to depict a recognizable world. These dramatizations of human experi
ence are fraught with conflicts which the Eastwood hero resolves. How
he behaves and what he says join with his means of resolution in pre
scribing ways of valuing and acting in the world. And because East
wood’s protagonists are attractive heroes (at least in a comparative
sense) they furnish potential role models for their viewing subjects.
These three ideological functions-structuring a view of reality, demon
strating courses of valuing and acting, and modeling gender behavior-
constitute areas of central ideological concern for this study.
After this analysis of his films, image, and political career, the final
chapter will examine Clint Eastwood’s significance and popularity in the
3 9 Mazzoco 34.
14
context of the ideological work he performs. Following an overview of the
ideological milieu in which Eastwood rose to stardom, the contemporary
crisis in masculinity will be explored. Eastwood’s popularity will be ex
plained by looking at the ways in which his image resolves the cultural
contradictions inherent in this and other ideological crises. This will lead
to a discussion of the “ideology of Clint Eastwood” as it relates to the
central issues of individuality, self-determination, and masculinity. The
chapter will also assess Eastwood’s problematic reputation for violence,
rugged individualism, and patriarchal masculinity. It will close by affirm
ing the positive contribution which Clint Eastwood as star, filmmaker, and
national icon can make to the processes of gender role transition and the
evolution of a new masculine sex role model.
15
Chapter Two
Ideology: Philosophical Considerations
I. Introduction
The frequency of its application across a broad spectrum of critical
discourse has given the term “ideology” a certain ubiquitousness. Many
disciplines employ the term and its usage remains highly equivocal. Ex
actly what ideology signifies is a matter for considerable discussion be
tween and within disciplines. Even among Marxist scholars, where “ ide
ology” is regularly discussed, analysis of its specific processes and forms
is hardly developed to the extent one might expect.1 As a concept, how
ever, it remains essential for those endeavoring to establish a theoreti
cal relationship between people’s ideas, their social relations, and their
actions.
Ideology presents Marxist theory with a helpful way of conceptu
alizing the impact of economic, social, and historical determinants on
ideas. But its use by Marxist thinkers finds expression in two differing, in
1 Stuart Hall, “ The Hinterland of Science: Ideology and the 'Sociology
of Knowledge’,” Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies, On Ideology
(London: Hutchinson and Co., 1978) 28.
16
compatible ways.2 One sees ideology grounded in historical circum
stances, while the other uses it to formulate understandings about human
nature which transcend history.3 If ideas originate for Marxists out of the
unique social conditions in which people find themselves, then is it pos
sible to speak of truth in any transcendent sense? Does it not leave any
prized notion highly tenuous and dependent upon shifting historical con
ditions? It becomes very difficult philosophically to explain the origins of
ideas without resorting to idealism. As materialism’s principal philoso
phical rival, idealism sees ideas as eternal, existing independently from
material determinants. To set about unmasking the historicity of ideas
while simultaneously claiming the existence of other transcendent, uni
versal ones, is to become embroiled in serious philosophical difficulties.4
This conflict has been an ongoing one. Karl Marx found it quite
illegitimate to discuss ideology as a concept apart from specific historical
expressions of individual ideologies. He was quite clear on this point a
century ago.5 His most influential philosophical heir today, Louis Althus
ser, however, speaks of “ideology in general” by describing ideology as a
necessary category for understanding all human societies throughout
2 Hall 10.
3 Jorge Larrain, The Concept of Ideology (Athens: The University of
Georgia Press, 1979) 14.
4 Hall 11.
5 Bhika Parekh, Marx's Theory of Ideology (Baltimore and London:
The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1982) 4.
17
history.6 Althusser’s conceptions have had considerable impact upon
those working in cinema studies. In fact, it is difficult to find ideological
studies that do not look to Althusser’s work in some way, either to en
dorse his ideas or criticize them. Any effort then, designed to understand
ideology and the cinema must address the writings of Althusser and the
film theory and criticism drawing upon his theories.
This chapter endeavors to arrive at a conception of ideology which
will inform this entire study. It begins where most studies of ideology ini
tially focus, on the ideological theories of Karl Marx. After outlining Marx’
central ideas, the chapter covers the contributions of Antonio Gramsci,
structuralism, and linguistics. They form a convenient bridge between
Marx and Althusser because their influence upon the latter’s thinking
have been important. The chapter concludes with Althusser’s under
standing of ideology, the problems it raises for ideological theory, and
how these problems can be addressed while arriving at a working defini
tion of ideology.
II. Karl Marx
As with many philosophers whose writings encompass a lifetime,
Karl Marx’ concerns shifted emphases and interpretations over the years.
His conception of ideology is exemplary. Marx wrote extensively about
ideology but his use of the term remains somewhat ambiguous.7 Arising
from his formulations on ideology have been a host of interpretations and
6 Louis Althusser. Lenin and Philosophy and Other Essavs. trans. Ben
Brewster (New York and London: Monthly Review Press, 1971) 159-
161.
7 Larrain 35-36.
18
usages, many of which stretch the term beyond even the most liberal
readings of his thought. In using the term, his followers have employed
ideology to designate a range of various topics which include illusionary
ideas, thinking influenced by class interests, unfounded notions spring
ing forth from the unconscious, and a body of justificatory beliefs.8
The blame for this wide range of contradictory usage, in which
each appropriator traces his particular understanding back to Marx, must
fall partly at the philosopher’s feet.9 He did apply the term in an equivo
cal manner. But a careful reading of Marx reveals that he used ideology
predominantly in two interrelated ways, in referring to philosophical ide
alism and in characterizing a body of thought which functions apolo
getically.1 0
Among the central tasks of philosophy is the critical examination
of underlying assumptions upon which systems of thought are con
structed. While most philosophers prior to Marx examined those of moral
and epistemological theories, Marx applied similar critical procedures in
questioning his contemporaries’ social theories. Like Hegel before him,
Marx believed that society could only be understood by studying it as a
whole. In constructing such an overriding, systematic social philosophy,
Marx began by uncovering the weaknesses of rival ones.
To his credit, Marx found that most social theories, although elab
orate and self-consistent, were articulated without reference to the social
"Parekh i-ii.
9 Parekh ii.
1 0 Parekh 1.
19
relations they proposed to describe.1 1 In short, their underlying principles
and methods were faulty. This applied to any number of disciplines
whose basic assumptions about experience were too narrowly con
ceived. For example, science, history, and theology proceeded out of
certain misunderstandings about the world. Following false assumptions
locked these disciplines into asking the wrong questions and applying
mistaken categories in their efforts to explain society’s workings.
At the heart of all such failed attempts to make sense of society lies
philosophical idealism. Marx often used ideology and idealism inter
changeably to refer to any epistemological approach which holds that
consciousness precedes material existence, that ideas transcend peo
ple’s social relations, and that people choose freely what to believe and
how to behave.1 2
Marx’ challenge to idealism was a radical one. In arguing that
persons could only be truly understandable within the context of their
particular material conditions, heundercut any notion of transcendent
ideas or essences. He saw people’s ideas arising from their social rela
tions, from their historical situations, not from eternal forms suddenly
grasped or intuited.1 3 Once ideas are understood as human products
originating from unique historical circumstances, then those circum
stances assume special significance. Any Marxist analysis of a social
theory must begin with the social relations from which that theory springs.
n Parekh 5.
1 2 Parekh 1, 5-6.
1 3 Parekh 8.
20
This introduces the important Marxian principle of positioning. For
Marx, how people make their living is crucial. It determines what they
earn, how they spend their time, and what activities are open to them. It
influences their relationships with others and is absolutely critical for un
derstanding the way they view the world and their place in it. Marx be
lieved that every individual holds a particular position within society’s
economic structure. Characterized by specific conditions, relations,
and experiences, each position generates a perspective for making
sense of existence. From this socially determined conceptuality flows
basic assumptions about society and certain prejudices toward its work
ings.1 4
But Marx was far more concerned with people collectively than
with individuals. Through their shared positioning within the economic
system, persons form fundamental social units called classes. Although
his definition was never as clear and concise as might be hoped, Marx
generally used class as a way of categorizing members of society who
share certain interests and economic activities. Inherent within each
class, or social group, are collective presuppositions about how society
functions and how its operation could and should be improved.
Furthermore, Marx argued that each class understands society
from its own intrinsically limited perspective within the economic order.
Such understandings he characterizes as ideologies. They are bodies of
“ ideas systematically biased towards a particular social group.”1 5 Each
1 4 Parekh 18-19.
,s Parekh 30.
21
ideology originates from and supports the values of the class espousing
it. The latter tends to universalize its own interests, advancing them as
beneficial to the welfare of the entire society. It also believes its descrip
tion of the world is consistent, accurate, and readily self-evident. In
reality, however, an ideology is a one-sided, distorted worldview which
disregards or denies any experience potentially contradictory of its nar
row understanding of the world.1 6
For example, when idealists are called upon to particularize their
abstract terms and theories, they unwittingly articulate examples which
reflect experiences grounded in those of the classes they represent. That
is what Marx found especially insidious about idealistic social theories.
They masquerade as universal statements about social formations,
claiming to prescribe for all society what is, in reality, only advantageous
for the classes who hold them. In this way, idealists become apologists
for the class interests their ideologies serve.1 7 This is most clearly evi
dent when an ideology enhances the interests, values, and perspectives
of that class which controls society’s political and economic life. Such an
ideology Marx labeled society’s dominant one, for it justifies and perpetu
ates the domination and exploitation a ruling class exercises over soci
ety’s other classes.1 8
Focusing almost entirely upon capitalist society, Marx envisioned
history as an ongoing class struggle. Contradictions, or conflicts between
1 6 Parekh 30-31.
1 7 Parekh 29.
1 4 Larrain 61.
22
classes, arise naturally from the division of labor built into the system of
producing society’s goods. The problem is, however, that one class dom
inates material production at the expense of the others.1 9 It also endea
vors to justify its domination through decidedly apologetic means. This is
a hallmark of ideology as false consciousness. It serves the interests of
the dominant class by attempting to explain away the contradictions ex
isting between classes. By fostering its understanding of the world as a
given, as universal truth binding on everyone, it perpetuates the ruling
class’ dominance within society.2 0
Marx did not believe that contradictions existing in practice could
be resolved in consciousness. Their elimination comes about only
through a radical transformation of the economic system, through revo
lutionary change. But resolution of these inherent contradictions is ex
actly what classes attempt to achieve ideologically instead of resorting
to concrete alterations in the economic systems from which they profit.2 1
Relying upon such strategies as denial, dismissal, and concealment,
they offer perspectives that seemingly eradicate genuine social contra
dictions. The apparent disappearance of the latter, however, always ben
efits the economic interests of the class seeking their resolution.2 2
1 9 Larrain 45.
2 0 Larrain 47.
2 1 Larrain 46.
2 2 Larrain 46.
23
Marx recognized that such expressions of false consciousness are
not necessarily intentional, that they evolve naturally from given social
positions. His concern was to show how a ruling class maintains its dom
inance by propagating a biased, distorted, and unexamined worldview
upon the rest of society. In other words, Marx wished to expose ideology
as a smokescreen concealing the real relations of the means of produc
tion.2 3
If a society’s economic base determines its fundamental structure
and operation, then its idealistic superstructure can legitimize and per
petuate that economic system. Marx included within the superstructure
those social institutions— political, legal, religious, educational--which dis
seminate and reinforce values throughout the culture. Superstructures
are not inherently ideological, but when their values mirror those of the
ruling class, they become so. Their concealment of contradictions serves
the latter by strengthening their hold over the means of production.2 4 By
presenting its ideological tenets as self-evident givens, such superstruc
tures validate society’s economic organization. The pervasive indoctrina
tion fostered by the idealistic superstructure promotes a certain degree
of social cohesion and stability, but the price paid for this short-lived
tranquility is the continued exploitation of the working classes.
Marx understood ideology negatively. Conceptualized as a form
of false consciousness, its fundamental fault lays in its concealment of
2 3 Parekh 33.
2 4 Larrain 52.
24
social contradictions for the advantage of a particular class.2 5 Not all
forms of consciousness do this; only those that negate and mask con
flicts are ideologies. Marx believed that people could overcome the lim
itations imposed upon them by social positioning to realize the truth
about their situation. He was not such a determinist to believe that peo
ple are incapable of changing their plight, especially in times when con
tradictions become crucial and the obviousness of ideology most bla
tant.2 6 To change persons by making them aware of ideology’s role in
legitimizing an oppressive economic structure is the first step in realizing
revolutionary change.2 7
III. Louis Althusser
As the most influential Marxist theorist in recent years, Louis Al
thusser has expanded Karl Marx’ conception of ideology to rescue it
from two dominant trends in ideological thought. These are economic
reductionism and historicist expressivism.2 8 The first treats the super
structure as totally determined by its economic base, as simply mirroring
the values and perspectives of its ruling economic class. Historicism
tends to compartmentalize history into neatly distinguishable expressive
2 5 Larrain 48.
2 6 Parekh 26-27.
2 7 Sylvia Harvev. Mav '68 and Film Culture (London: British Film In
stitute, 1980) 90.
2 8 Gregor McLennan, Victor Melina, and Roy Peters, "Althusser’s The
ory of Ideology,” Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies, On Ideol
ogy (London: Hutchinson and Co., 1978) 7.
25
totalities, each characterized by a dominant form of consciousness which ;
I
permeates every cultural dimension of that period.2 9 Althusser calls for a '
rigorous, theoretical clarification of Marxism free from the vulgar deter
minism, reductionism, and sweeping generalizations typical of the phi
losophy’s development during the last century. j
Among the major influences upon Althusser’s thought are the writ- !
' i
j ings of the Italian theorist Antonio Gramsci. Although he created no sys- I
I
tematic theory of ideology, Gramsci wrote extensively about it. Only occa- I
j
sionally did he employ the term “ideology,” relying instead on appropri- j
ate equivalents. He shared with another significant Marxist, George Luk- ;
i
acs, such terminology as “philosophies,” “ conceptions of the world,” and
“ systems of thought” when referring to ideological forms of conscious
ness.3 0 Gramsci was especially concerned with politics and discussed
I
ideology within the context of civil society and the state. When examin
ing its organization and propagation, Gramsci emphasized how ideology |
bonds classes together and promotes the subordination of one class to
another. Ideology is the “cement” which unifies a class, giving its mem- ;
J bers a shared perspective on reality and a common understanding of I
j 2 9 Stuart Hall, Bob Lumley, and Gregor McLennan, “Politics and Ideol-
t ogy: Gramsci,” Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies, On Ideol-
; oqv (London: Hutchinson and Co., 1978) 54.
3 0 Hall, Lumley, and McLennan 54.
26
their position in the world.3 1 It can do the same on a larger scale for an
entire society.
While Gramsci recognized that ideologies are often formalized
into systematic bodies of thought, he was more interested in their prac
tical functioning than in their philosophical content.3 2 Here Gramsci em
phasized looking at everyday “lived” action to discover ideology. It is in
the “ common sense" and “ folklore” by and through which a people live
that their ideology is most readily accessible. Common sense includes a
vast array of ideas, notions, and truisms, the ordinary knowledge that a
people use in making everyday decisions.3 3 It relies far more upon feel
ing and personal experience than systematic thinking, usually finding
the latter suspicious and threatening.3 4
Filled with many contradictions of which its adherents are un
aware, common sense generally universalizes the status quo, treating it
as naturally self-evident. This offers the ruling class a powerful tool for
exercising hegemony over its competitors.3 5 Hegemony refers to a pivo
tal political function performed by ideology: it allows a class to maintain
3 1 Antonio Gramsci. Selections from the Prison Notebooks of Antonio
Gramsci. ed. and trans. Quintin Hoare and Geoffrey Nowell Smith (New
York: International Publishers, 1971) 328.
3 2 Terry Lovell, “Ideology and ‘Coronation Street’,” Television Mono
graph: Coronation Street (London: British Film Institute Publishing,
1981) 43.
3 3 Gramsci 323-326.
3 4 Gramsci 272.
3 5 Hall, Lumley, and Peters 50.
27
its dominance without resorting to coercion. It is here in the political realm
that common sense embraces the second, more recognizable expres
sion of ideology--the formal, systematic one.3 6
The relationship between the two forms of ideology can vary. This
is certainly the case in the relationship between common sense and the
dominant ideology. Usually the latter articulates elements of common
sense, giving it a certain logic and intellectual respectability. This further
legitimizes and solidifies the ruling class’ position atop society. On the
other hand, a dominant ideology can suppress popular, everyday wis
dom by restricting its articulation.3 7 A crisis in hegemony occurs when
ever common sense ideas rooted in a people’s lived experience cannot
be explained, masked, or successfully negated by the dominant, formal
ideology.
Gramsci also rejected the strict deterministic model of the base-
superstructure relationship. He believed ideology and politics were not
merely reducible to economics, that the relationship between the two was
a complex one.3 8 This position, along with his emphasis upon ideology
as a lived phenomenon, find their way significantly into Louis Althus
ser’s theory of ideology.3 9 Althusser’s writings also reveal a debt to Gram-
sci’s notion that ideology acts as the social cement of a society, an actual
3 6 Gramsci 331.
3 7 Gramsci 420.
3 8 Gramsci 407.
3 9 Lovell 43.
28
material force bonding a people together.4 0 As his extensive article on
Ideological State Apparatus indicates, Althusser likewise shares with
Gramsci a major concern with hegemony and the means by which ruling
class dominance persists.4 1 Finally, Gramsci’s functional approach to the
study of ideology over against content analysis compliments the influ
ence of structuralism and linguistics upon Althusser's radical formulation
of ideology as having an ahistorical material existence.
Althusser’s debt to structural linguistics is one he minimizes yet it
becomes quite evident when his notions on ideology are seen within the
light of the movement’s contributions to twentieth century intellectual
thought.4 2 Especially important to ideological theory is the emphasis
linguistics places upon the structure underlying every language. Each is
governed by certain laws which allow for the combination of words into
specific patterns that convey meaning. In this way, language can be con
sidered a system, one to which practice must largely conform if commu
nication is to occur. These linguistic structures, or angues, are not read
ily apparent to most speakers since they have learned to use them natu
rally since infancy.
As language entails an underlying structure which shapes its ex
pression, so too are social practices and discourses seen as kinds of
language. For example, anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss under
stands myth as an unconscious system operating under its own particular
4 0 Larrain 156.
4 1 Althusser 127-186.
4 2 Larrain 239.
29
laws. Likewise, art and religion function through hidden, logical sys
tems.4 3 Such structures are immanent in all specific expressions yet they
transcend historical and cultural determinations. While content may
vary from culture to culture, the form remains constant and unchanging.
What is important here is the recognition of structure, the discovery of its
laws, and how it functions culturally.
A central aspect of linguistic theory is the relationship between
language and its determination of a subject’s perception and compre
hension of reality. As maturing subjects learn their language, they also
learn to apply specific categories for understanding and communicat
ing their experience. Since these forms and categories shape a sub
ject’s interpretation of reality and hence their behavior, the hidden struc
ture of language assumes ideological significance. Inherent within
every discourse is a manifest content and a latent content. Both may be
ideological but it is the latter, operating at an unconscious level behind
the manifest content, that primarily interests structuralists.
This notion of an underlying hidden structure has become essen
tial in Althusser’s understanding of ideology. In fact, it is as a structure
that ideology works. He sees it as “ a system (with its own logic and rig
our) or representations (images, myths, ideas or concepts, depending
on the case) endowed with a historical existence and role within a given
4 3 Claude Levi-Strauss, Structural Anthropology, trans. C. Jacobson
(New York: Penguin Books, 1972) 23, 62.
30
society.” 4 4 It is a structure without which society can simply not exist.4 5
He borrows Gramsci’s analogy in describing ideology as the cement of
social cohesion, yet delves more deeply and systematically into the
workings of ideology than did his predecessor. He endeavors to expli
cate in a scientific and rational manner the functions ideology performs
in society, namely, reproducing the relations of production and consti
tuting individuals or “ interpellating them as subjects.”
Althusser’s theory of ideology is grounded primarily in his ideas
about the social formation.4 6 This notion of the social whole is a distinc
tive Althusserian idea.4 7 It rejects the strict economism of so many Marx
ists, who understand society as merely an “ expressive totality” of the
economic system underpinning it. Althusser reformulates the traditional
base/superstructure model by picturing it as composed of three levels-
the economic, the political, and the ideological-which are continually in
teracting and determining one another.4 8 Through his ascription of “rela
tive autonomy” to each level, Althusser bestows upon ideology a com
plex life of its own, one which does not necessarily reflect the values of
the economic base or alterations in its mode of production. Neither does
he see the economic level as always dominant in history; it can often be
4 4 Louis Althusser. For Marx, trans. Ben Brewster (London: New Left
Books, 1976) 231.
4 5 Althusser, For Marx, 232.
4 $ McLennan, Molina, and Peters 78.
4 7 McLennan, Molina, and Peters 77.
4 a Althusser. Lenin and Philosoohv. 136.
31
secondary to one of the others. Althusser admits that “in the last in
stance” the economic determines the political and ideological, but be
cause that "last instance” never occurs, the social formation must be un
derstood as an expression of a complex reciprocal process of the three
levels.4 9
As the cement of society, ideology holds people together and al
lows them to endure their tasks. It unifies and solidifies. Unlike Marx,
Althusser sees it as a natural process that cannot be eliminated from
the social structure. To understand it properly, however, Althusser be
lieves ideology and the superstructure of which it is a part must be ap
proached from the perspective of reproduction and the work ideology
does in that process.5 0
One of the thorniest problems facing Marxists is the willingness
with which workers acquiesce to an economic system that exploits them.
Why they comply without being forced constitutes the hegemonic prob
lem. Althusser looks for the answer in the work that ideology performs
through the Ideological State Apparatuses (ISAs).5 1 He argues that the
power behind the ruling class’ domination is most evident through cer
tain political institutions it controls. The police, military, and legal system
have long constituted an array of coercive tools available to the ruling
4 9 McLennan, Molina, and Peters 80.
5 0 Althusser. Lenin and Philosophy. 136.
5 1 Althusser. Lenin and Philosophy. 142.
32
class. Althusser labels these Repressive State Apparatuses or RSAs.5 2
But in order to explain hegemony and the ongoing “reproduction of the
relations of production,” it becomes crucial to understand how ideology
functions through the ISAs.
Ideological State Apparatuses include a vast number of social in
stitutions and formations which perpetuate the ideology of the ruling
class. Among these Althusser lists religious bodies, political parties,
schools, trade unions, cultural organizations, communications industries,
and particularly the family.5 3 These ISAs share a similarity of conscious
ness through attitudes, values, and structures of understanding which
reproduce the relations of production by treating them as natural and
self-evident. By participating in the rituals and practices of the ISAs, in
dividuals both unconsciously and consciously accept as valid the domi
nant ideology’s fundamental assumptions about the relations of produc
tion. For example, Althusser sees the educational ISA as especially in
fluential in capitalist societies because it takes children from an early
age and instills within them an understanding of economics which masks
exploitation under the guise of obvious fairness.5 4 This ideological func
tion is present in all formations but should not be thought conspiratorial
or even overtly intentional. It simply represents the way ideology works
within the social formation to ensure hegemony.
5 2 Althusser. Lenin and Philosophy. 143.
5 3 Althusser. Lenin and Philosophy. 143.
5 4 Althusser. Lenin and Philosophy. 152-157.
33
This raises one of the most controversial tenets in Althusser’s the
ory of ideology. While Marx’s materialist orientation permitted his dis
cussing ideology only in its specific, historical manifestations, Althus
ser’s structuralist thinking leads him to formulate a theory of “ideology
in general.” Here Althusser presents ideology as an immutable structure
found in all societies throughout history. It takes the same form and func
tion identically in all social formations.5 5 Where Marx would see certain
abstract qualities, such as ideology, determined by the concrete econo
mic and political forces of the moment, Althusser uses his theory of ide
ology in general to explain particular ideologies. These may differ in
many ways but they all follow the same hidden structure which is ideol
ogy.
In reproducing the relations of production through the ISAs, ide
ology ingrains individuals with representations of themselves and their
relationship to the world in which they work. Such shared perspectives
are mandatory for a society’s existence yet they also perpetuate the in
terests of the ruling class at the expense of the exploited working clas
ses. Furthermore, Althusser believes it is crucial to realize that these
ideological understandings do not accurately describe the exploitative
dynamics of the social formation. “Ideology is a representation of the
imaginary relationship of individuals to the real conditions of existence."5 6
8 5 Althusser. Lenin and Philosophy. 159.
5 8 Althusser, Lenin and Philosophy. 162.
34
What is distorted in this formulation is not so much reality, but
persons’ understanding of their relationship to reality.5 7 Althusser em
phasizes the distinction between ideology and science. It is only through
the latter, which Althusser believes is outside ideology, that knowledge
can be realized, that the hidden structures underlying social formations
can be discovered. Ideological representations have their roots in my
thology, not science.5 8 They fulfill that important function of providing
social cohesion but they distort the true nature of economic relationships
by propagating false ones through their vehicles, the ISAs.
A second dimension of Althusser’s theory of ideology in general
is that “ideology has a material existence.” 5 9 This is his repudiation of
vulgar economism’s reduction of the superstructure to merely a mir
rored reflection of the economic base. Ideology always exists within Ide
ological State Apparatuses as “lived relations;” it always exists within
prescribed rituals and actions. ‘There is no practice except by and in
an ideology.” 6 0 Althusser attributes materiality to it because it transforms
raw materials into products. In other words, ideology performs work, it
produces.
The work ideology does consists of reproducing the relations of
the means of production through the ISAs. Following the lead of psycho-
5 7 McLennan, Molina, and Peters 95.
5 8 Louis Althusser and Etienne Balibar. Reading Capital, trans. Ben
Brewster (New York and London: Pantheon Books, 1970) 66.
5 9 Althusser. Lenin and Philosophy. 165.
6 0 Althusser, Lenin and Philosophy. 170.
35
analyst Jacques Lacan, Althusser sees ideology as constituting individ
uals. This is the third and final function of ideology. It determines their
identities, instilling within them structures for understanding themselves,
the world, and their relationship to it. Additionally, and central for Al
thusser, ideology “ interpellates individuals as subjects.” 6 1 It deceives
them into believing they are not determined, that they are unique, free
to chart their own destinies. Bourgeois ideology, for instance, is marked
by an understanding of persons as self-determining, self-actualizing in
dividuals. It simultaneously blocks the real categories (class, mode of
production, class struggle, etc.) which would allow an accurate under
standing of reality to take place.6 2 Ideology, then, through interpellating
individuals as subjects, furnishes them with an imaginary relationship to
the relations of production. The result is the perpetuation of hegemony
and the continued reproduction of the relations of the means of pro
duction.
Because Marx saw ideology growing out of class contradictions,
he believed they could be resolved through revolutionary change. The
elimination of concrete, practical contradictions would resolve the ideol
ogical ones stemming from them. Althusser, however, conceives ide
ology as an immutable given, constituting individuals throughout history.
The only possible way to overcome it is through science which provides
a conceptual method for surpassing the limitations inherent in ideolo
6 1 Althusser. Lenin and Philosophy. 170.
6 2 Colin McArthur. Television and History (London: The British Film
Institute, 1980) 4-5.
36
gical categories. Scientific theoretical practice builds on ideological
theoretical practice by criticizing it, by attacking its underlying assump
tions. Science formulates problems in a different manner than does ide
ology.6 3 The latter is locked into seeing and answering questions from a
specific, narrow perspective. Science, from Althusser’s perspective,
offers a means of overcoming the ill effects of ideology by substituting
accurate descriptions of social formations and addressing problems in
ways that allow for their resolution rather than their perpetuation.
Althusser’s reliance upon science to overcome ideology has not
been a popular position with many of his fellow Marxists. Jorge Larrain
charges him with substituting science for revolutionary action.6 4 The ma
jor problem, however, lies with Althusser’s theory of ideology in gene
ral which sees ideology as eternal and not rooted in class contradictions
as Marx originally proposed. The question of the possibility of revolu
tionary change becomes doubtful given the role of ideology in consti
tuting and interpellating individuals.6 5 If ideology performs its role as
thoroughly as Althusser argues, then how can protest ever come about?
Can helpless and passive persons transcend ideology to revolt against
the systems which exploit them? Althusser’s theory makes it extremely
difficult. It omits the realization that within every ISA, class struggles
with all their inherent contradictions are in process.6 6 Althusser treats
6 3 Althusser. For MarxT 184.
6 4 Larrain 163-164.
6 5 Larrain 164.
6 6 Larrain 167.
37
ideology within ISAs as monolithic structures reflecting the ruling class’
representations of existence. An examination within any apparatus re
veals a divergency of values, perspectives, and emphases. By elimina
ting class struggle from his theory, Althusser “ overlooks the very essence
of the origin of ideology in class contradictions and thus cannot conceive
a way out, other than resorting to the precarious solution of science.” 6 7
IV. A Working Definition
Whether Louis Althusser’s theory of ideology smacks of idealism
to the extent of betraying historical materialism or whether he remains
faithful to Marx’ central philosophical thrust is not at issue here. That is
best left for Marxist scholars to discuss among themselves. Without ob
serving the constraints which doctrinal purity demands, Althusser pro
vides several worthwhile contributions in arriving at a working definition
of ideology. First of all, his model of the social formation with its three
levels--the economic, the political, and the ideological-interacting and
determining each other is an attractive alternative to rigid economism.
By accepting Althusser’s notion of relative autonomy, ideologies can
be discussed within the context of their own specific histories and deter
minations, free from the economic reductionism which has ruled the
day so often.
In his criticism of Althusser, Jorge Larrain repeatedly takes the
theorist to task for overlooking the importance of contradictions in the
origin of ideology and in the workings of the Ideological State Appara
tuses. Ideologies arise out of class struggles and it is the dynamics of
"Larrain 163.
38
class struggles within ISAs which are largely responsible for the diversity
among individuals. If Althussers understanding of ideology is accepted,
how can individual differences within the same society be explained?
Contradictory elements within ISAs and even within ideologies must be
at play. Once the ideological is perceived as a diverse, contradictory
level then it becomes far richer and complex than many positivistic philo
sophers would have it believed.
Secondly, Althusser’s conception of ideology as that which con
structs individuals is an important one. Ideology, working through the
ISAs, shapes individuals’ identities. It structures the way they see them
selves, their world, and their relationships to that world. Whether these
relationships are imaginary, as Althusser maintains, is not central here.
Naturally Althusser would claim the ultimate accuracy of his Marxist
description of the true relations of production, but that claim seems no
less subject to the imaginary than do those of his competitors. What
counts here is the function which ideology performs in constituting indi
viduals, in determining to a great extent how they understand them
selves and the world in which they live. It is a matter of a lived rela
tion: human beings live in and through ideology. It structures experi
ence into comprehensible patterns, most of which is done uncon
sciously, and ascribes different meanings and values to those experi
ences.
To say that people have grown up in a particular culture is to say
that they are constituted by and in that culture's ideology. To a very
great extent, it is what makes persons who they are. Althusser considers
39
interpellation as a process through which individuals are deceived into
believing that they can determine their own lives: ideology determines
individuals, not they themselves. Most Marxists, with their stress upon
social positioning and economic forces, find this stance extreme be
cause it omits the probability or even the possibility of revolutionary
change. Marx himself saw human beings as capable of transcending
the restrictions of class positioning to shape their futures.
Apart from these revolutionary considerations, the elimination of
any role for self-determination in the process of constituting individuals is
an exceedingly dubious philosophical position. Not only does it under
cut ethical and legal responsibility, but it leaves creativity and new
forms of consciousness unexplained. Individuals may well be constitu
ted in ideology but their faculties of self-reflection and self-determination
enable them in many instances to overcome those ideological determi
nations.
For Althusser, these affirmations of subjecthood would testify to
the bourgeois ideological context out of which this study is written. That
description, while seemingly pejorative, is somewhat accurate. Ideology,
as a given of history, is unavoidable. It simply is. Its functional dimen
sions include “ cementing” human beings together within a social forma
tion by furnishing conceptual structures for the perception,understanding,
and valuing of experience. The nature of that structuring and the way
experience is understood and valued is the content of a specific ideol
ogy and can be judged accordingly. At its best, “bourgeois” ideology
connotes a concern with individualism, with individuals determining and
40
expressing themselves. This study, then, is admittedly ideological-that
cannot be avoided. And because it accepts self-determination as part of
the human condition, it can also be called “bourgeois” without embar
rassment if the latter term does indeed designate an acceptance of the
reality of individuality and self-determination as at least partially func
tional in human activity.
Throughout much of Marxist ideological theory, an emphasis up
on contradictions is paramount. Marx believed that ideologies arise from
the contradictions inherent in class struggle. Gramsci emphasized con
tradictions in the workings of hegemony. And Althusser’s critics within
Marxism have focused on the inadequate attention he places on the
contradictions between classes in his theory of ideology in general. For
all these thinkers, the resolution of contradictions is a primary function of
ideology. Whether it occurs through denial, concealment, or distortion,
ideology acts to present individuals with a consistent perspective on
existence. It brings contradictory elements together in such a way as to
emphasize one at the sake of the others. Ideology often acts as a per
ceptual screen, filtering out or reinterpreting experience that challenges
its basic tenets. It also encourages the reconciliation of opposites and
the combination of incompatible ideas into a seemingly consistent whole.
Much of this activity, as Gramsci points out, falls under the irrationality of
common sense. Careful philosophical investigation may reveal glaring
violations in rational procedure, but ideology operates under its own spe
cific logic to provide human beings with a consistent perspective out of
which to live their lives.
41
Ideology, then, must be thought of in two interrelated categories.
First, it has a functional dimension. It provides a structure out of which
and in which human beings live. Ideology determines to a considerable
extent how persons perceive, understand, and value experience. Along
with constructing their view of reality, one of ideology’s central tasks is
providing individuals with a consistent view of that reality. This involves
a resolution in some way of the contradictions they encounter daily. Sec
ond, ideology has a content dimension. It is made up of specific percep
tions, images, representations, and values that can be uncovered and
explicated. Any discussion of a specific ideology must speak to the work
it performs and to the content which distinguishes it from others. The
next chapter will speak to these ideological concerns as they relate to
the cinema.
42
Chapter Three
Ideology and the Cinema
I. Post-Structuralism and Patriarchal Ideology
It is ironic that Clint Eastwood should ascend to stardom during
the same years which saw scholarly film criticism undergo such a radical
shift in theory, orientation, and practice. Exemplifying the heightened ide
ological tensions of the late Sixties, the revolutionary ideals which be
came so fashionable within intellectual circles were, quite significantly,
diametrically opposed to those associated with Eastwood’s image and
his popular appeal. While Eastwood solidified a reputation for rugged
self-sufficiency as a traditional masculine sex role model, those critics
on the cutting edge of film scholarship cultivated a political agenda pri
oritizing feminism, minority rights, gay liberation, and the struggles
against capitalism and bourgeois individualism. From their “ post-struc
tural synthesis” of psychoanalysis, semiotics, structuralism, and Marxism
emerged an array of critical approaches geared explicitly to expose and
43
undercut the "patriarchal ideology" perpetuated by the likes of Eastwood
and his films.1
Thus far, Eastwood’s immense popularity has withstood the slings
and arrows of the post-structuralists’ polemics. Their impact upon his box
office success remains negligible at best. That aside, however, these cri
tics have succeeded in significantly altering the direction of cinema stud
ies through their radical critique of academia’s traditional, humanistic
hermeneutics. Influenced by the post-structuralists, cinema scholarship
now finds itself privileging subjects it previously discussed only margin
ally.
Undoubtedly much of this radical reorientation springs from the
overt politicizing of film studies during the turbulence of the late Sixties.2
Out of that social upheaval, particularly in France, came forth a challenge
to every scholarly discipline. Each was called upon to authenticate its
relevance by working, each in its own way, for fundamental political
change. Cahiers du Cinema’s publication of “ John Ford’s Young Mr.
Lincoln” in 1970 marked the enlistment of cinema studies in this cru
sade.3 No longer was it sufficient for critics to analyze, discuss, and eval
uate a work in relation to its author, genre, or style. Now, addressing the
' Bill Nichols, ed., “Introduction,” Movies and Methods: An Anthology.
Volume II (Berkeley. Los Angeles, and London: University of California
Press, 1985) 1-3.
2 Sylvia Harvey, May '68 and Film Culture. London: British Film Insti
tute, 1980) 3-43.
3 Editors of Cahiers du Cinema. “ John Ford’s Young Mr. Lincoln.”
Cahiers du Cinema. 223 (1970), reprinted in Nichols 493-529.
44
specific concerns of a leftist political orientation would overshadow and
inform these prior objectives.
Responding to this mandate for social relevance, post-structur
alists’ primary target became patriarchal ideology, a rather loose system
of beliefs which its critics maintain has permeated every facet of West
ern culture for centuries. Among its main tenets, patriarchy accepts as
axiomatic the personal, social, economic, and political superiority of
white, heterosexual males. Implicit is an ontological hierarchy which dis
tinguishes white men as society’s natural leaders, lawgivers to whom
others must defer. Women, other races, and homosexuals assume infe
rior status and/or are patronized in ways which imply their secondary
status in any serious comparison with the white, masculine heterosexual.
For centuries, patriarchal ideology has enjoyed hegemony over those
it oppresses. Either its victims have willingly accepted white male domi
nation as normative or they have grumbled while grudgingly acknowl
edging its truthfulness.
For many post-structuralists, ingrained patriarchy, hidden by its
very obviousness, lies at the heart of a myriad of social ills. It confers a
deeply felt inferiority and abnormality on those outside its inner circle;
excuses sexual, racial, and political oppression; and justifies economic
exploitation. Exposing the insidiousness and the pervasiveness of this
ideology and the processes by which the cinema perpetuates it become
the first important steps in challenging its dominance.
Ideology, then, serves as a key concept in critically examining the
cinema. This requires of scholarship the task of explicating patriarchal
45
ideology’s determinations within films and within the industry from which
they originate. Theoretically, this calls for understanding the cinema in
Louis Althusser's terms as an ideological apparatus, one which perpetu
ates the status quo, or in Althusserian terms, “ reproduces the imaginary
relations of production.” 4 Most narrative cinema hides its means of pro
duction, masquerading its product as a natural representation of reality.
Its use of seamless editing, realistic photography, and recognizable hu
man predicaments aim at conveying a strong sense of actuality.5 It con
ceals the fact that motion pictures exist by virtue of innumerable script
conferences, repetitive camera takes, extensive post-production tech
niques, and well-designed marketing strategies. The production pro
cess’ invisibility is maintained so that the illusion of reality will succeed,
that happenings on the screen are accepted as reasonably accurate
renderings of the real conditions of existence. By presenting the film as
something other than what it is, i. e., a carefully crafted commercial pro
duct, the cinema denies another fundamental truth. It masks the fact that
a film’s conception of reality reflects that of a particular ideology; and,
the dominant ideological perspective throughout most of film history has
remained fundamentally patriarchal.
4 Louis Althusser. Lenin and Philosophy and Other Essavs . trans. Ben
Brewster (New York and London: Monthly Review Press, 1971) 141-
170.
5 Barbara Klinger, “‘Cinema/ldeology/Criticism’ Revisited,” Screen
January-February 1984: 33.
46
II. Cinema and the Spectator
From this ideological understanding on the cinema, theorists have
generally ventured in two directions. The first has moved toward an in
vestigation of those psychological dynamics specific to cinema which
contribute to the determination of individuals. Here ideology is dis
cussed in terms of discourse, of which cinema is considered a form. Re
lying heavily upon the theories of Louis Althusser and psychoanalyst
Jacques Lacan, this orientation sees the constitution of human beings
occurring through language. Inherent within each language is a deep
ideological structure, hidden and unquestioned, which provides models
for organizing experience, valuing, and acting. Through the multiple
forms of social discourse, men and women gain a sense of their identity,
the world around them, and their positions within that world. Because
ideology provides that structure, it can be seen as constituting subjects; it
determines persons.
In Althusserian terms, the constitution of individuals within a soci
ety is accomplished through Ideological State Apparatuses (ISAs).6
Along with the likes of education, religion, and the family, the cinema is
an ISA. It acts ideologically to furnish values, role models, and ap
proaches to social and political issues. In short, the cinematic apparatus
provides ways for understanding the world and acting within it.
This post-structuralist position challenges many traditional Marx
ists who view entertainment media as simply vehicles for perpetuating
ruling class ideology. In this revisionist formulation, cultural phenomena
'Althusser 142.
47
assume a definite determinist function rather than merely an expressive,
mirroring one. Althusser’s notion of relative autonomy is evident.7 Each
of the three levels-economic, political, and ideological-operate to
some extent independently, yet through a process of constant interac
tion, they reciprocally determine one another. In this model, entertain
ment and the arts contribute to that central ideological affect of constitu
ting individuals. And just how the cinema as an ISA carries out this pro
cess has become a pivotal theoretical issue for film theory.
What occurs when the spectator watches the screen is very simi
lar to what happens during that stage of infancy which Jacques Lacan
calls the mirror-stage.8 When the baby encounters its image in a look
ing glass, it quickly identifies with it. Instead of recognizing itself realis
tically as the creature it is, however, the infant idealizes the mirror-
image, constructing an imaginary perception of itself. Misrecognition
occurs, then, when the child identifies with the imaginary image outside
itself. The image held by the child does not reflect reality, but is rather an
imaginary one which the child wishes it to be. The basic structure of mis
recognition develops during the mirror stage and forms the foundation
for all imaginary relations in later life.
While watching films, identification and misrecognition also take
place. Here the viewing subject identifies not with his own image but
with characters on the screen. The motion picture shapes the world for
7 Althusser 136.
8 Jacques Lacan, “ The Mirror-Phase as Formative of the Function of
the I.” New Left Review 51 (1968): 71-77.
48
the viewer and manipulates his reactions to it by raising and lowering
the spectator’s responses to this imaginary world. The pleasures en
joyed in the viewing experience fulfill a multitude of complex desires in
cluding scopophilia, identification, compensation, and the resolution of
social and personal contradictions. Misrecognition results whenever
the spectator fails to distinguish between the film as an artificial repre
sentation of reality and reality itself.
Once the distinction between the screen’s imaginary world and the
real world becomes blurred, then the spectator falls subject to the cine
matic apparatus’ power to determine his perception and conception of
reality. Through a complex psychological process known as suturing,
the individual attaches himself to the imaginary world projected before
him.9 He adopts the point of view of a particular character, a point of
view formed and grounded in ideology. Through this process, cinema,
functioning as an ISA, plays a part in constituting individuals. In most
instances, it also strengthens the hegemony of the ruling class because
commercial cinema is, to a large extent, produced by those who live in
and through the dominant ideology.
III. Cinema as a Hegemonic Apparatus
Hegemony and how the cinema works to reproduce the social for
mation are central issues for the second post-structuralist group con
9 Nick Browne, “ The Spectator-in-the-Text: The Rhetoric of Stage
coach.” in Nichols 458-475.
49
cerned with ideology.1 0 These theorists build upon the same intellectual
foundations as those formulating ideology as discourse, but their ques
tions differ. How, they ask, does cinema help solidify ruling class domi
nance? What role does cinema play in securing the victims’ acquies
cence to oppressive social systems? The answers lie in a structural the
ory of hegemony.
Functioning as a deep structure, ideology is a set of seemingly
natural practices and assumptions. Expressed as a lived relation, it posi
tions persons within an established social order. It also explains and jus
tifies that positioning in prescribed terms. Hegemony begins when a sub
ordinate group adopts the ideology (structures, assumptions, values) of
the dominant group to explain itself to itself. Once the dominated per
ceive themselves in these categories, then their acquiescence to a sub
ordinate position follows quite easily. They accept the social formation
and their exploitation within it as natural, fair, and “ simply the way things
are.”
Inherent in films are understandings of social life which support
or challenge society’s underlying structures. At one time, the commer
cial cinema, as a highly visible form of mass art, was dismissed outright
by many critics as merely a perpetuator of ruling class domination.
Lately, however, the issue is taking on greater complexity than this sim
ple expressive explanation. Cinema, even at its most commercial, does
indeed raise controversial issues that challenge the status quo. It re
1 0 Martin F. Allor, “Cinema, Culture and the Social Formation: Ideol
ogy and Critical Practice,” diss., University of Illinois of Urbana-Cham-
paign, 1984, 109-111.
50
veals tensions and ignites passions generally suppressed or masked by
the dominant ideology’s world view. These contradictions are felt by a
significant part of the population but continue unresolved by the ruling
class’ understanding of how society is and should be.
As Marxist critics have long maintained, most popular cinema
functions as a hegemonic apparatus. Yet as it becomes evident through
regular viewing, many motion pictures are iconoclastic toward ruling
class values and ideology. Through plot and character, filmmakers often
paint harsh portraits of society, giving vent to many wide-spread an
tagonisms toward its leaders and institutions. Rarely, however, do they
propose solutions which would seriously undermine the social forma
tion’s basic structures. Neither do they generally advocate radical indi
vidualized behavior that might foster ethical, economic, or political insta
bility. Seldom are revolutionary measures advanced. Rather they offer
safe, nonthreatening resolutions or else settle for descriptions and omit
any prescriptions altogether. Motion pictures act more as safety valves
than as catalysts to radical action: they express genuine tensions with
which the audience can readily relate but do not threaten them with solu
tions that call for abrupt social and personal change. In this way, the cin
ema acts ambivalently, expressing the dreams and dissatisfactions of its
audience while not demanding of it any unfamiliar and distressing steps
which might genuinely resolve the fundamental contradictions that ac
count for those dissatisfactions. Finally, audiences are left with resolu
tions consistent with the dominant ideology’s conceptualization of the
contradiction and its prescribed response to it.
51
IV. Cinema and the Resolution of Contradictions
Contradictions and their resolution play a crucial role in explain
ing why specific films, genres, and movie stars are popular at a particu
lar historical moment. This requires criticism to look at the texts and the
stars in relation to social and material conditions operative at the time of
their popularity.1 1 Drawing upon psychoanalytic theory, critics often begin
this task by focusing on wish fulfillment. Following Freud, they view the
arts, along with dreams and neuroses, as vehicles through which individ
uals satisfy psychologically threatening and socially unacceptable de
sires. By identifying with dramatic characters, the spectator vicariously
acts out those psychic conflicts and fulfills those wishes usually enter
tained only on an unconscious level.1 2
Another more complex psychoanalytic notion is “ repetition com
pulsion.” To explain why an audience continually returns to a genre or
star, the psychic tensions associated with that genre or star must be un
derstood.1 3 It is necessary to identify the psychic contradictions, anxie
ties, and ambiguities these cultural artifacts touch upon and to examine
the resolutions these texts furnish their audiences.1 4 Ideological analysis
reveals that in dramatizing a genuine psychic or social conflict, a media
1 1 Richard Dver. Stars' (London: British Film Institute, 1979) 35.
1 2 John G.Cawelti. The Six-Gun Mvstiaue (Bowling Green, Ohio:
Bowling Green University Press, 1971) 11.
,3 Cawelti 11-12.
1 4 Dyer; Cawelti; and, Tania Modleski, Loving with a Vengeance: Mass
Produced Fantasies for Women (Hamden. Connecticut: Archon Books,
1982).
52
text often provides a resolution to that conflict which reduces the tension
and discomfort associated with it. Such resolutions may be illogical and
impractical in real life. Nevertheless, they do function to an extent in re
ducing the tensions stimulated by the enactment of that struggle on the
screen. Freud witnessed compulsive behavior in persons who chose to
return repeatedly to the temporary gratification offered through these ex
periences. They were content with the satisfaction derived from the sym
bolic resolution of contradictions rather than seeking to discover actual
solutions in real life.1 5 By locating the tensions these media texts engage
and the temporary resolution they provide audiences, a major step is
taken toward explaining their popularity.
An ideological understanding of popularity builds upon this psy
chological formulation. The dynamics of wish fulfillment and repetition
compulsion mesh with ideological ones when the latter instigate or
thwart the resolution of certain psychological and social tensions. This
can happen in two important ways. First, as a repressive force, ideology
often denies the existence or legitimacy of certain desires and discon
tents, minimizing their importance, or ridiculing those who entertain them.
Or, ideology may acknowledge their seriousness but conceptualize and
interpret them inaccurately. In each of these instances, the fulfillment of
quite authentic desires and the resolution of legitimate social contradic
tions go unrealized. They remain beneath the surface as sources of
potential psychological and/or social upheaval.
1 5 Modleski 29.
53
Ideology can also generate problems whenever it advocates as
exemplary certain behaviors that in practice cannot be actualized given
the social formation’s inherent complexities and limitations. This is most
apparent in the kinds of gender role models it promotes. Ideology fur
nishes idealized notions of what it means to be a woman and to be a
man in society. When social structures restrict the possibilities for realiz
ing those ideals, then a severe contradiction arises, accentuating the
gulf between what is expected of a person and what is genuinely possi
ble. On the one hand, ideology calls men and women to behave in spe
cific ways and emulate certain lifestyles; while on the other, the social
structures within which these individuals operate frustrate most opportu
nities for imitating the role models in any meaningful way. Inevitably,
this leads to psychic tensions characterized by feelings of personal fail
ure, inadequacy, and dissatisfaction.1 6
Given this situation and the conflicts it generates, motion pictures
can relieve psychological stress to a certain extent, but in ways that gen
erally prove imaginary and temporary. By identifying with screen charac
ters, viewers are able momentarily to overcome the tensions emanating
from these troubling contradictions. On the screen, idealized heroes and
heroines surmount major obstacles, as well as everyday nuisances, in
achieving difficult goals. The impossible imperatives of personhood pre
scribed by ideology become attainable vicariously through this process
of identification. Here the chasm between ideological demands and the
barriers that block their realization is overcome. Through identification
,s Joan Mellan. Big~Bad Wolves: Masculinity in the Amarican Film.
(New York: Pantheon Books, 1977) 5.
54
with the idealized protagonists, spectators can briefly become everything
ideology tells them they should be. They realize beauty, success,
strength, self-sufficiency, love, and the dreams and desires that normally
go unfulfilled. The danger of misrecognition arises here when the spec
tator’s distinction between the screen’s imaginary world and the real one
blurs. Instead of challenging the assumptions underlying these images,
debunking them as fantasy, and substituting appropriately realistic ones,
the cinematic apparatus perpetuates the viability of these role models
along with the ideology that extols them.
Since the efficacy of the idealized images is reinforced, a pattern
very similar to repetition compulsion can develop. Because the reduc
tion in conflict undergone by spectators is temporary and contrasts
markedly with that offered by the real world, audiences return to experi
ence those same stars and genres for resolution, reassurance, and relief.
This provides an opportunity for working through these contradictions but
it rarely puts an end to the tensions surrounding them. Quite the con
trary, the cinema nurtures them whether by design or inadvertently. It
perpetuates the imaginary notion that these idealized role models have
a basis in reality, can be actualized within the social formation, and
should serve as standards by which persons evaluate themselves and
others. The final result is a promulgation and intensification of the con
tradictions between what ideology tells individuals they should be and
their slim chances for doing so given the social formation’s inherent limi
tations.
55
V. Conclusion
When critics relate ideology and the cinema, they usually do so in
the context of the “ work” performed by the cinema as an ideological ap
paratus. Fundamentally, the cinema provides individuals with concep
tual structures for understanding human experience. It likewise fur
nishes models for acting in the world. Usually these structures function
hegemonically as well, reinforcing those dominant ones already opera
tive in the society at large. In this way, the cinema joins other social insti
tutions, or Althusser’s Ideological State Apparatuses, in constituting indi
viduals and “reproducing the imaginary relations of production.”
Understanding the cinema as an ISA, as one that influences how
persons make sense of themselves and their world, is among the major
critical contributions made by the post-structuralists. So extensive has
been their impact upon film theory that cinema can never again be
viewed as ideologically neutral. Now any serious critical discussion must
address those intrinsic ways of seeing, organizing, and valuing out of
which a film originates and takes its form. While the post-structuralists’
political agenda and penchant for oblique language have proved coun
terproductive at times, their theories expounding the inherent ideological
character of cinema have enriched critical discussion and broadened its
scope.1 7
Central among ideology’s functions is the way it endeavors to re
solve intellectual and social contradictions, to furnish a consistent and
satisfying understanding of the world. Such resolutions may upon closer
1 7 Nichols, “Introduction,” 20-24.
56
scrutiny be revealed as quite imaginary, exhibiting a distinctly irrational
and fanciful quality. Nevertheless they do provide the illusion of whole
ness and regularity that human beings require to comprehend their ex
perience and act upon it. A world filled with glaring contradictions, un-
solvable problems, and blatant absurdity is too stressful for most indi
viduals to endure for any length of time. Ideology provides that stable
world view. It may well be irrational, intellectually suspect, and lacking in
consistency but by furnishing an understanding of life, ideology meets a
very important human need.
The cinema works ideologically to resolve contradictions in sev
eral ways. The dramatization of a social problem is perhaps the most ob
vious. Here an issue is framed within a particular conceptual context out
of which a solution follows. Both that context and the resolution pro
posed is inherently ideological. Films of traditional genres also lend
themselves to the working through of specific contradictions. For exam
ple, the western has long portrayed the struggle between individual free
dom and societal responsibility while the musical allows audiences to
resolve imaginatively its longings for zestful spontaneity and fulfillment in
the face of social conformity, predictability, and loneliness.1 8 The popu
larity of a genre or individual film lies with the urgency experienced by its
audience for those specific conflicts the work addresses. It likewise de
pends upon the freshness, relevancy, and insight presented by that film
or genre in resolving those specific contradictions it dramatizes.
1 8 Will Wriaht. Six Guns and Society: A Structural Study of the West
ern (Berkeley. Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press,
1975) 85-88; and, Richard Dyer, “Entertainment and Utopia,” in Nichols
220-232.
57
The dynamics of the star phenomenon represent a third means
through which the cinema resolves contradictions experienced by a so
ciety. Functioning as idealized images of certain social types, stars foster
certain ideological expectations of what a woman and what a man
should be and endeavor to become. Their signifying power, moreover,
lies with the work stars perform in resolving certain crucial contradic
tions and tensions experienced by their public. Because a star’s screen
persona and his private life become indistinguishable for audiences,
these actors are conceptualized as living proof that certain recurring
tensions and problems can be resolved in everyday life. By identifying
closely with certain stars, audiences live out their fantasies vicariously
through them. This accounts for the intense, devoted following stars
enjoy: they appear to live out spectators’ dreams and symbolically re
solve those authentic contradictions which audiences experience as ma
jor conflicts in their own lives. And the stars do it so successfully with
such marvelous skill, strength, and style.
Popularity, then, is indicative of the important ideological work
performed by the cinematic apparatus. Among its affects, it resolves ten
sions, ambiguities, and contradictions which exist for spectators. Cer
tainly other factors such as physicality are important in explaining a par
ticular star's popularity; but what an ideological understanding provides
is a means of relating popularity to broader cultural forces operative
within society at a specific historical moment. For many people, what a
particular star signifies is linked imaginatively to the working through of
certain socially shared, yet very personally felt conflicts. Whether that
58
star's image offers a viable and lasting resolution to those contradictions
is quite secondary at this point. What counts is that he or she is tied in
a powerful way to real struggles experienced by a very large audience,
large enough in fact to perpetuate that stardom. What needs to be done
is to examine the star’s image, the social contradictions it touches, and
the ways it manages to resolve those contradictions.
59
Chapter Four
Clint Eastwood: The Image (I)
I. Introduction
Few actors with such enduring star power are so closely identi
fied with their screen persona as is Clint Eastwood. During the past two
decades, those elusive boundaries separating man from image have
dissolved so much that discovering a firm distinction between the two no
longer generates the journalistic or critical curiosity it once did. Most
commentators proceed upon the assumption that Eastwood is very
much like the characters he portrays--a laconic, self-sufficient, private
individual, prone to decisive action when pressed, and masterfully in
control of himself and his life. Even close friends and associates fuel
this popular conception of the man. Before their celebrated breakup,
Sondra Locke once described Eastwood as warm and charming yet at
times enigmatic and distant.1 And director Don Siegel, with whom the
actor has collaborated on several pictures, claims “ You can’t push Clint.
It’s very dangerous. For a guy who’s as cool as he is, there are times
1 lain Johnstone, The Man with No Name: The Biography of Clint
Eastwood (New York: Morrow Quill Paperbacks, 1981) 138.
60
when he has a violent temper."2 What emerges from the numerous in
terviews, profiles, and commentaries is a consensual view that the
actor, for better and for worse, bears a striking resemblance to his
screen heroes.
Two important implications for this dissertation follow from the
central confusion over man and image. First, as tempting as it is, the
task of uncovering the real man behind the image is an extremely dubi
ous one. Over the years, commentators have repeatedly come up empty-
handed or, at best, have only confirmed the more obvious similarities
and/or differences between the man and his roles. Very little has been
confirmed apart from his being much less violent and not nearly as
adept with a gun as the characters he usually portrays. Second, study
ing Clint Eastwood is far more interesting when the man is approached
not biographically but rather as a “unit of meaning” in relationship to his
audience. Approaching Eastwood from this perspective privileges that
relationship by examining how his image and films perform certain ideol
ogical functions. Understanding the ways in which “Clint Eastwood” sym
bolically resolves certain very powerful cultural contradictions also leads
toward an explanation of his immense popularity.
This chapter begins the examination of Clint Eastwood’s star
image as it has evolved over the last three decades. Its career can be
divided into five overlapping stages or periods, each characterized by a
significant change or variation in “Clint Eastwood” as a unit of meaning.
The first covers Eastwood’s role as Rowdy Yates on the television series
2 David Ansen, Gerald Lubenow, and Peter McAlevey, “ Clint: An
American Icon.” Newsweek 22 July 1985: 50.
Rawhide from 1958 to 1966. The second centers upon Eastwood’s role
as the laconic, anti-heroic “Man with No Name” in the Italian westerns.
Directed by Sergio Leone, A Fistful of Dollars (1964) and its two im
mensely successful sequels, For a Few Dollars More (1965) and The
Good, the Bad, and the Ualv (1967), catapulted Eastwood to the heights
of European popularity. It also empowered his return to Hollywood with
the status of a major action star. Eastwood’s career entered a third pe
riod with his portrayal of Inspector “Dirty” Harry Callahan, the character
with whom he continues to be so closely identified today. From 1971 to
1976, Eastwood solidified his reputation as a tough, violent, independent
loner but also began to confound critics when his films revealed a grow
ing tendency toward self-reflexivity.
Clint Eastwood’s image had firmly entered a fourth stage by 1976.
His directorial efforts surprised critics with its sensitivity and with its self-
conscious interrogation of his tough guy image. In addition, Eastwood’s
characters were becoming far less monolithic. Gaining depth and
breadth, they increasingly challenged the critical establishment’s per
ception of him as the one-dimensional, impassive killer made famous by
the Italian westerns and Harry Callahan films. Eastwood also gained
serious recognition as an intriguing cultural phenomenon, one who in
spired repeated references to him as an American icon. The final stage
in the evolution of the actor’s image began in January 1986, when
Eastwood entered the mayoral election of his tiny, affluent home-town
of Carmel, California. The presence of the world’s most popular movie
star infused the campaign with such excitement that it took on the trap
62
pings of an international media event. References to Eastwood’s image
pervaded the campaign and followed him during his ensuing term of of
fice. As they are, these allusions and his films from this period offer valu
able insights into how Eastwood is perceived today and the significant
ideological role he plays in the public imagination.
II. Rawhide and Rowdy Yates
Watching episodes of Rawhide thirty years after their production
reveals a very different Clint Eastwood from the one made famous by
The Man with No Name and Harry Callahan. Rowdy Yates is the very
antithesis of the amoral, scruffy gunfighter and the cool-headed misan
thrope of the San Francisco homicide squad. Occasionally naive, the
young cowboy often found himself unwittingly in trouble only to be res
cued by the experience and wisdom of trail boss Gil Favor (Eric Flem
ing). Although occasionally rebellious and impetuous, Yates nonethe
less embodied the virtues of the traditional western hero. An honorable
man, he was loyal to his community of friends, protected the weak from
assorted villains, and was dependably strong, incorruptible, and upright.
Rowdy Yates was also exceptionally good-looking. Eastwood’s
appearance has always been an integral part of his image and has al
ways served him well. A thick head of flowing hair, deep, green eyes, a
handsomeness saved from delicacy and effeminacy by a natural squint
and deepening wrinkles--these facial features combine with a long, lean,
muscular body to create the prototypical western hero. This rare mixture
of masculine beauty and physical ruggedness has made Eastwood a
63
favorite with both men and women.3 It has also given him the latitude to
accept those roles which privilege romance and eroticism as well as
those requiring dangerous action and adventure. Rowdy Yates com
bined both exceedingly well as have most of Eastwood’s characters
throughout his career. In fact, Eastwood was chosen for the part with
this combination in mind. He filled the show’s demand for a young,
handsome, erotic/adventure interest, especially for those less mature
viewers not drawn to the tight-lipped, sagacious character played by
middle-aged Eric Fleming.
A major misconception about Clint Eastwood contends that he
only escaped obscurity and gained popularity with his appearance in _A
Fistful of Dollars. On the contrary, the actor had already become very
well-known, albeit via television, during his seven years on Rawhide.4
Although it had not made him a superstar, Eastwood’s work on the inter
nationally syndicated series had earned him considerable popularity,
particularly in Japan and Europe, prior to Leone’s trilogy. Information
about Eastwood the person, however, was relatively sparse given his
status as the co-star of a perennial series. Away from the set, Eastwood
guarded his private life while cultivating for public consumption the
clean-cut image associated with Rowdy Yates.
By distancing him from Hollywood society and its attendant publi
city, Eastwood’s quiet detachment allowed neither journalists nor his in
3 Richard Thompson and Tim Hunter, “Clint Eastwood, Auteur,” Film
Comment January-February 1978: 26.
4 Johnstone 32.
64
quisitive fans to gather much personal information about him. Turning to
their one remaining resource, they identified Eastwood with his film char
acters. Unwittingly, this paucity of knowledge established a precedent
which still operates twenty-five years after Rawhide. It also made less
problematic Eastwood’s transition to superstardom and to his early sig
nificance as a powerful, unambiguous unit of meaning. Because no
strong notion of Eastwood the private individual existed within the public
imagination, the boundaries separating real person and screen persona
were never established in any meaningful degree.
As long as Clint Eastwood was Rowdy Yates-the handsome,
spirited personification of the western’s conventional values--he resem
bled many of the genre’s other young stars. That was to change sud
denly in 1964 when he traveled to Europe for the first of Sergio Leone’s
Italian Westerns. With his portrayal of the mysterious and violent Man
with No Name, Eastwood drastically altered his image, achieved im
mense popularity, and became a figure of bitter polemic within critical
circles.
III. The Man with No Name
After seven years as Rowdy Yates, Clint Eastwood had grown frus
trated with this conventionally heroic character. The actor admitted to
liking the cowboy but he also found him “ sheepish” and a trifle dull.6 It
was time for a change. When Sergio Leone offered him the lead in the
low-budget western The Magnificent Stranger. Eastwood immediately
5 Richard Grenier, “ The World’s Favorite Movie Star.” Commentary
April 1984: 63.
recognized the script as a thinly disguised adaptation of the Japanese
samurai classic Yoiimbo (1961 I.6 Having believed for sometime that
Akira Kurosawa’s film could inspire a terrific western, Eastwood accepted
Leone’s offer. Viewing the production as basically an opportunity to visit
Europe during Rawhide’s summer hiatus, Eastwood nonetheless went
about developing the character. He designed and furnished his own cos-
tume-hat, poncho, gun, and cigarillos--but most important, Eastwood
radically modified the script’s treatment of the mysterious gunfighter.7
Unquestionably The Man with No Name, as this notorious antihero
would soon be known, represents Eastwood’s rebellion against the con
formity and insipidness thrust upon him by the nice-guy image of Rowdy
Yates.8 Eastwood claims, “I made the character more... of a guy who is
a gunman out for his own well-being, placed himself first and didn’ t get
involved in other people’s problems unless it was to his benefit.” 9 An
other major influence upon Eastwood’s development of The Man with
No Name was Eric Fleming’s portrayal of Rawhide’s trail boss, Gil
Favor.1 0 Confident, efficient, and tightly self-controlled, Favor exempli-
6 Arthur Kniaht. “Plavbov Interview: Clint Eastwood,” Plavbov Febru
ary 1974: 66.
7 Knight 66; and, Patrick McGilligan, “Clint Eastwood: Interview,” Fo
cus on Film Summer/Autumn 1976: 14.
8 Ann Guerin, "Clint Eastwood as Mr. Warmth.” Show February 1970:
84.
9 Guerin 84.
1 0 Johnstone 40.
66
tied an element of patriarchal strength and decisiveness which Eastwood
incorporated into his characterization.
Finally, Eastwood drew upon Yojimbo’s ambiguous protagonist
in shaping The Man with No Name. As the wandering ronin, or master-
less samurai, Toshiro Mifune swaggered about unshaven and dishev
eled, filled his purse by manipulating one villainous gang against the
other, and remorselessly dispensed death with lighting speed. Through
it all, he scratched himself, chewed a toothpick, and remained enigmatic.
The Man with No Name was to become his western counterpart. Unkept
and sporting a week’s growth of beard, Eastwood likewise said little,
expertly gunned down the wicked without a hint of conscience, and pur
sued his financial intrigue while chomping a stubby, black cigarillo.
The elevation of such a character to the hero’s role made this film
a revolutionary one for the genre. Westerns have always had their
“ prairie scum” and merciless gunfighters but never before had a film so
blatantly combined them in its leading character. Neither was he a para
digm of virtue. The Man’s dominance emanated primarily from his pro
fessional skill and cunning rather than from the moral superiority which
empowered traditional western heroes.1 1 In a world where good and evil
are barely relevant categories, any notion of The Man’s goodness must
be seen in relativistic terms: he is simply less evil and avaricious than
those he opposes. Perhaps it took an unfamiliarity with the western’s
entrenched conventions, or at least an unwillingness to conform to them,
that enabled Sergio Leone to fashion the film the way he did. Retitled A
" Pauline Kael, “Killing Time,” New Yorker 14 January 1974: 84.
67
Fistful of Dollars, it exploded upon the screen as a new kind of western,
one marked by a callous contempt for society and human life. No longer
was the western hero a mediator between honest, defenseless towns
people and powerful outlaws. The Man with No Name operated as a
rootless individual, exploiting and eventually destroying a society gone
mad with its own ruthless ambition and greed.
Leone matched his flagrant disregard for moral clarity with an ex
ceptionally unconventional directorial style. A Fistful of Dollars looked
and sounded decidedly different from its American predecessors. His
penchant for photographing faces and objects (spurs, guns, knives) in
extreme close up, his seemingly endless extension of the climactic gun-
fight, the sparse but sprawling sets, and the unusually harsh colors in
fused the film with a baroque sensibility. On one hand, Leone’s natu
ralistic depiction of the Old West’s dirty primitiveness appeared quite au
thentic; but on the other, his highly abstract use of sound effects and mu
sic lifted the film into a world of strange unreality. Certainly much of this
affect is due to its looping. Apart from Eastwood’s voice, the dubbing
comes across as unnaturally clipped, mediocre at best, and the effects
are overly loud and poorly mixed. Revolvers resemble carbines, a
chorus of exaggerated slurps and grunts accompany meals, slaps and
punches thunder, and horses’ hooves often sound as loud in the dis
tance as they do in medium shots. As slipshod a sound job as it initially
appears, in a surprising way its simplicity and abstraction enhanced Fist
ful’s distinctiveness.
68
If any doubts persisted about this film’s radical departure from the
genre, they were quickly dispelled by Ennio Morricone’s weirdly haunting
score. Except for their making Clint Eastwood a star, A Fistful of Dollars
and its sequels are most famous for the distinctiveness of their compos
er’s music. Two selections from Fistful exemplify the often outlandish
flair of Morricone’s score. The title sequence begins quietly with a single
Spanish guitar. It is joined momentarily by a solitary whistler. An occa
sional bullwhip crackles and a mission bell peals a single, isolated
tone. Quickly the tempo builds with the introduction of a powerful electric
guitar and male chorus. Next, violins appear to create a sweeping full
blown orchestral composition. After reaching a crescendo, the music
gradually slows and concludes on a long, deep chord. The second
noteworthy piece, the film’s main theme, accentuates the tension prior
to gunfights, particularly during the prolonged, final confrontation. A
piercing Spanish dirge performed by trumpet and accompanied by drum
and chorus, it heightens dramatically the antagonists’ intensity, hatred,
and fears of impending death. Furthermore, it successfully reinforces
Leone’s intention of elevating the climactic duel, and indeed the entire
film, to the mythological level.
In his trilogy, Leone set about satirically yet affectionately demy-
thologizing the time-honored conventions of the western. He abstracted
and exaggerated the genre’s settings, technology, and dramatic motifs.
Open spaces, from landscapes to town streets, were vast and sprawling.
Leone’s lingering closeups transformed spurs, guns, and other generic
paraphernalia into fetishes. Gunfights became prolonged rituals staged
69
with the opera’s heightened theatricality. Most significant, Leone interro
gated the genre’s noble, moral orientation. His protagonist operated out
of financial self-interest rather than from the humanitarian selflessness
which motivated traditional western heroes. Only a mission of revenge
could sidetrack the quest for a few dollars more. With a leftist’s skepti
cism, Leone portrayed the individualism of the frontier as more consistent
with a Marxist interpretation than with one grounded in traditional Ameri
can mythology. He depicted the West as a cynical, cut-throat world in
which idealistic platitudes functioned merely to disguise avarice. None
theless, Leone could not help but surrender to the seductiveness of the
western’s emotional power. As much as he mocked its conventions, the
seriousness evident in his handling of certain pivotal scenes revealed an
appreciation for the genre’s enormous dramatic possibilities. In the end,
Leone’s apparent cynicism was tempered by his unquestionable delight
and fascination with the form. Such abiding respect was clearly con
firmed in 1968. The sweeping, operatic Once Upon a Time in the West
was Leone’s grandiose tribute to the western’s epic proportions.
Among the most obvious mythological aspects of A Fistful of Dol
lars is certainly the Man with No Name himself. An invincible anti-hero,
his ability to manipulate events reveals an intelligence every bit as
skilled and deadly as his marksmanship. It was the man’s total control-
of his emotions, speech, actions, and of those around him--that set him
above others. As his title implies, the character was fashioned by East
wood and Leone as a man of mystery. He appears from nowhere for
no clear purpose, precipitates the destruction of the wicked, and departs
70
as enigmatically as he arrived. Unlike the traditional western hero, The
Man perceives the villains not as threats to civilization but rather as re
sources to be mined for personal wealth. Only after suffering a severe
and humiliating beating does he change. Where at first he drew his gun
for money, in the end he kills to exact his vengeance.
Furthermore, The Man’s power and inscrutability earned him an
aura of the supernatural. By his swift, remorseless, and complete de
struction of the wicked, he resembled an angel of cosmic retribution, al
beit an angel adorned in western garb. To a certain degree, he also
seemed immortal. Throughout the trilogy he endures agonizing brutality
only to rise again and avenge himself. Beaten to a bloody pulp by the
sadistic Rojos in Fistful, he musters all his strength and cunning to es
cape, recuperate, and return. To the amazed Rojos, the resurrected
Man assumes god-like proportions. He signals his return with blasts of
dynamite and materializes amid their whirling clouds of smoke. Con
cealing an iron shield beneath his poncho, The Man merely staggers
when bullets strike his midsection. After each shot, he straightens and
resumes his slow march toward the incredulous villains. Similar or
deals occur in the sequels yet every time The Man conquers death and
reasserts his dominance through the destruction of his enemies. This
established a fundamental pattern which future Eastwood characters
would emulate and for which the actor would become famous.
Another characteristic of Leone’s trilogy which made a significant
contribution to Eastwood’s image was its gallows humor. Eastwood im
bued the character with a detached, whimsical perspective which
71
viewed a corrupt world through a darkly humorous lens. His is an absurd
sensibility conveyed through wry smiles, small gestures, and scene cap
ping one-liners. Knowing grins and quiet chuckles comment sardoni
cally on the machinations unfolding before him. Human folly amuses
him. He enjoys its pretensions, exploits them, and ruthlessly terminates
its perpetrators when the necessity arises. Occasionally he befriends or
pities unfortunate innocents (an enslaved woman, a dying soldier, a
friendly inn keeper), but mostly The Man with No Name proceeds without
taking anyone very seriously.
Over the years, Eastwood’s squint has aroused considerable at
tention, humor, and mimicry. As a trademark of his persona, it has ex
pressed a variety of emotions covering a spectrum from intense rage to
mild amusement. Its proper reading, however, depends upon dramatic
context, as well the set of his mouth and jaw. Many of his famous ges
tures, and Eastwood has always preferred gesture to speech, began in
Leone’s trilogy. At the opening of A Fistful of Dollars. The Man encoun
ters a corpse affixed to a horse. As they pass, he tips his hat in greeting
and farewell. Exemplary of the film's many small black jests, it initiated
what soon became an Eastwood signature. That distinctive panache
with which he pinched the hat’s brim between his thumb and index fin
ger signified an unflappable, understated confidence. The same is true
of the way he hoists a liquor glass, smokes a cigarillo, walks, handles a
gun, and delivers a double take. Together they delineate a unique char
acter distinguishable from others by his physicality, emotional distanc
ing, and uncanny omniscience. It is this last which affords him the privi-
72
lege of humoring himself with the cosmic foolishness he observes
around him.
The Man with No Name used nearly no words as well. His la
conic style heightened his mysteriousness; it also assured rapt attention
when he did speak. Believing less is best to heighten audience involve
ment, Eastwood eliminated all expository information about his charac
ter from Fistful’s script. He also cut out as many of The Man’s lines as
possible.1 2 Those that remained often concluded scenes humorously,
usually in one of three ways. A slyly crafted insult aimed at a rival occurs
repeatedly in The Good, the Bad, and the Uplv. For example, when The
Man and Tuco find a note from Angel Eyes, Tuco reads it aloud but stum
bles over the last phrase, “See you later, id, id ...” The Man completes it
for him. ‘“Idiots,”’ he deadpans, “It’s for you,” and hands the note back to
Tuco. The scene ends as Morricone’s score mocks the latter’s humilia
tion.
Second, Eastwood’s character frequently issued quiet, sarcastic
appraisals to sum up and close dramatic situations. At the opening of
For a Few Dollars More. The Man, now a bounty hunter, closes in on a
wanted man and his gang. Despite being warned by a crooked sheriff,
the gang succumbs to the bounty hunter’s deadly skill. As he receives
his reward from the same lawman, he asks “ Tell me, isn’t a sheriff sup
posed to be brave, courageous, and above all honest?” The sheriff
agrees. He plucks the badge from the lawman’s chest, walks into the
1 2 McGilligan 14.
73
street, and flips the badge into a bystander’s hat. He mutters, “ seems
you folks need a new sheriff," mounts his horse, and rides away.
Finally, The Man delivered his bons mots with such tranquility that
their frequently gross insensitivity momentarily stunned audiences into
spontaneous but ambivalent laughter. On the one hand, the quips were
funny, yet on the other, their outrageous callousness transformed their
enjoyment into a guilty pleasure. An early scene from A Fistful of Dollars
provides a fine example. After The Man endures the insults of several
hired guns, he returns to settle the score. Striding down the street, he
passes the undertaker and suggests that three coffins be readied for his
impending victims. He then confronts his hecklers, outdraws them in a
gunfight, and dispatches all summarily. As he returns, he passes the
amazed undertaker and mutters, “My mistake. Four coffins." Borrowed
directly from Yoiimbo. it nevertheless expressed an attitude and estab
lished a pattern which would reappear throughout Leone’s trilogy.
Coming up with just the right word at the right time-whether to insult,
summarize, or demonstrate a cool detachment-became a hallmark of
The Man with No Name and would soon become a staple of Eastwood’s
persona.
The immense popularity of the “Dollars trilogy” initially surprised
everyone, including its star.1 3 In addition to making tremendous profits, it
catapulted Eastwood to European stardom and inspired a cult following
for his character. Although The Man retained a western hero’s physical
dominance and superior skill, he rejected the former’s conventional high
,3 Knight 68.
74
mindedness. Sardonic, disheveled, and indisposed toward moral con
formity, he presented audiences with an antihero they found refreshingly
unorthodox. Eastwood’s stranger could not have arrived at a more ideol
ogically strategic time. He synthesized traditional elements of patri
archy’s masculine paradigm with the Sixties’ spirit of rebellion and cul
tural interrogation. The Man’s dismissal of generic proprieties, moral hy
pocrisy, and repressive conventionality tapped the same well-springs of
dissatisfaction which to a significant degree energized that era’s counter
culturalists and political activists. For many, the cool, quiet power and
iconoclastic charm of The Man with No Name were irresistible and, by
association, so was the actor who portrayed him. A requisite for star
dom, the equating of actor and role, was well on its way. Despite the
European hoopla, however, Eastwood lacked for honor in his own coun
try and would go without it for many years to come.
In the United States, after extensive legal constraints forced Uni
ted Artists to purchase the American rights to Yoiimbo.the distributor re
leased A Fistful of Dollars in 1967. For a Few Dollars More followed
later that same year. The Good, the Bad, and the Ualv arrived in 1968.
Apart from of an occasional condescending acknowledgement of the
trilogy's satire, the popular critical establishment was less than im
pressed. Leone’s graphic violence and stunted moral vision dismayed
many reviewers. Eastwood especially was singled out for the ruthless
amorality of his anti-heroic gunfighter. They did not like The Man with No
Name or Eastwood’s portrayal of him. Both were often described identi
cally. Each was laconic, unexpressive, and one-dimensional. For au
75
diences and critics alike, the temptation to blur the distinction between
actor and role seemed irresistible from the beginning. Eastwood and
The Man had become interchangeable.
IV. The Image Becomes Politicized
Irrespective of the critics, American audiences quickly mirrored the
enthusiasm of those in Europe. Not dissuaded by poor reviews, they
liked The Man with No Name and the actor who played him. To skepti
cal Hollywood producers, however, Eastwood remained a declasse tele
vision actor and/or only the latest in the continuing flow of fleeting phe
nomenons from Europe.1 4 Yet increasingly aware of Eastwood’s rising
box office power, United Artists signed him for Hana’em Hiah (1968), a
cautious Hollywood version of Leone’s flamboyant “ spaghetti westerns.”
The film owed several debts to the latter. Its violence exceeded that of
most previous American westerns, particularly in its grisly depiction of
public hangings. It also followed Leone’s penchant for the revenge mo
tif. Most obviously, Dominic Frontiere’s music and scoring imitated
those of Ennio Morricone but tempered the Italian’s more outlandish
flourishes.
Eastwood again plays a tight-lipped loner similar to Leone's anti-
hero. Deadly with a gun, Jed Cooper is seemingly immortal as well.
Beaten, hanged, and left for dead by vigilantes in the opening scene, he
is later ambushed and left for dead by members of the same group. On
each occasion he survives, recovers fully, and tracks down his assail
1 4 Johnstone 49.
76
ants. This role sees a less detached and more emotional Eastwood than
The Man with No Name. He forms attachments to women, reveals some
reluctance in taking lives, and upholds a very strong sense of personal
morality and justice. With Hanq’em High Eastwood introduced a homi
cidal rage that he barely contained beneath a piercing squint and snarl
ing grimace. Eventually it erupted when outrage and anger crystallized
into action. Audiences quickly learned to relish such moments. They
delighted in Eastwood’s indelicate treatment of the wicked, and the ob
noxious: each received his appropriate comeuppance at the hands of
this instrument of Old Testament justice.
One particular scene in Hana’em Hiah exemplifies the influence
of The Man with No Name and the new seriousness which appears in
Eastwood's character. Deputy Marshal Jed Cooper arrives in town to
pick up a notorious fugitive being held at the local jail. Given the man’s
dangerous reputation, the sheriff is surprised to see that Cooper intends
to handle the extradition single-handedly. Before leaving, however,
Cooper plans to have a steak dinner. Entering the saloon, he discovers
Reno, a grimy participant in his aborted lynching. Sipping a whiskey at
the bar, Reno pays little attention when the deputy informs him that he is
under arrest. Only after Cooper extinguishes his cigarillo in the man’s
drink does Reno turn to face the lawman. When asked, he flippantly de
nies ever having seen Cooper. Only as the deputy reveals his rope-
scarred throat and snarls beneath an ominous squint, “ When you hang
a man, you better look at him,” does Reno react. Panicked, he reaches
for his gun. Before it clears its holster, the far faster Cooper vengefully
77
riddles Reno’s body with bullets. The scene concludes with a detached,
callous aside typical of The Man. Hearing the shots, the sheriff rushes
into the saloon. Standing over Reno’s body, he asks Cooper what he is
going to do now. The taciturn Cooper declares impassively, “I'm going
to have that steak,” and strolls out of the barroom. Such outrageously
insensitive lines, characteristic of the Leone trilogy and now an Eastwood
trademark, will continue throughout his career. They will also reinforce
that rapidly evolving image of a man totally in control of himself, a patriar
chal hero who transcends the fears, hesitations, and insecurities of nor
mal men.
This image was well-established by the end of 1968 when East
wood’s next film appeared. Once again the rugged individualist was a
westerner but a contemporary one butting heads with urban America’s
criminal justice system, its people, and its psychedelic counter culture.
Together with Hang’em High. Cooaan’s Bluff firmly established East
wood as a no-nonsense, conservative tough guy and paved the way for
the political controversy which Dirtv Harrv would ignite two years later.
The cultural conflicts touched upon by Cooaan’s Bluff were aptly if per
haps inadvertently characterized by Universal in its promotion campaign
for the film. It announced, “Clint Eastwood Gives New York...Twenty-Four
Hours to Get Out of Town.” 1 5 His character is Walt Coogan, a perversely
independent deputy sheriff given to unorthodox methods and indelicate
handling of criminals. Having defied and exasperated his boss once too
often, Coogan is dispatched to New York City on a routine extradition
1 5 For a typical example from the ad campaign, see New York Times 4
October 1968: 43.
78
assignment. The prisoner, a street thug named Jimmy Ringerman, has
been recaptured in his native New York City after escaping from Arizona
where he is wanted for murder. What begins for Coogan as a mundane
job quickly becomes a major adventure. Frustrated by the mountainous
red tape of the extradition process, he cleverly circumvents it and takes
the prisoner into custody. Coogan’s efforts backfire, however, when
Ringerman’s cohorts ambush the deputy and free their friend.
For the wounded, humiliated Coogan, Ringerman’s recapture be
comes a personal crusade. Police Lt. McElroy takes a dim view of Coo
gan’s intentions, warning him that he is out of his league in the big city.
He mocks the sheriff’s traditional western code (“I know: ‘A man’s gotta
do what a man’s gotta do.’” ) and dismisses Coogan's frontier tactics as
hopelessly antiquated in the urban environment. Stubborn and deter
mined, Coogan persists and recaptures the fugitive. Along the way, he
confronts a landscape and culture vastly different from his own. Director
Don Siegel’s New York is a Silent Majority’s nightmare. Bogged down in
technicalities, the city’s justice system is hopelessly inefficient. If its resi
dents are not mentally ill, sociopathic, or decadently immersed in sex
and drugs, they are at best rude and obnoxious. Coogan reacts with bit
ing humor at times and stern intolerance at others. Unlike the psychiatric
social worker Julie Roth, who permits her clients’ indiscretions in order to
reach them, Coogan handles no one with kid gloves. Neither is he re
luctant to threaten or employ violence when necessary. He comes from
a world where right and wrong, propriety and impropriety are clearly
drawn and unhesitatingly addressed.
79
Coogan’s behavior toward women also reveals those patriarchal
tendencies which underestimate the importance of affirming full person-
hood and relationships of equality and mutual support. Women, for
Coogan, are enjoyable sources of romantic pleasure or valuable re
sources for solving crimes. Three women enter his life. The first, Millie,
is a voluptuous Arizona girlfriend whom Coogan apparently visits only
between dusty assignments. Anything deeper with Millie than a robust
sexual frolic is unlikely. At the New York police station, Coogan meets
Julie, who, unlike Millie, is a sophisticated professional woman. Initially,
she deplores his chauvinism and rough handling of her client. Never
theless, Julie appreciates his good looks and quaint frontier manner. He
also represents a challenge. She finds Coogan intriguing, frustratingly
so, since she cannot discover the key to unlock his reserved person
ality. Dismayed by his stoniness, she asks Coogan about pity. He indi
cates that once it nearly cost him his life. It explains his heartless treat
ment of another fugitive earlier in the film.
From the beginning, Coogan has attempted to seduce Julie.
When she finally becomes interested, he forsakes the inviting opportu
nity to pursue Linnie Raven, a client of Julie's and a possible lead to Rin
german’s whereabouts. Scanning Julie’s private files while she pre
pares dinner, Coogan locates Linnie’s address and hurriedly leaves the
unsuspecting social worker to her cooking. Coogan finds Linnie, an at
tractive but emotionally unstable young woman, in a nightclub. Return
ing to her place, they end up in bed. Believing his lovemaking has
charmed Linnie into cooperating, Coogan soon finds that she has deliv
80
ered him to Ringerman’s hoodlum friends. After Coogan resorts to pool
cues and billiard balls in laying waste the thugs, he limps away to Lin-
nie’s apartment. Kicking in the door, he terrifies the girl into leading him
to Ringerman.
Although outraged, and a bit jealous, over Coogan’s manipula
tion of Linnie, Julie affectionately sees him off at the plane. Perhaps a
poor match from the beginning, this liberal New Yorker and the hard
ened Southwest lawman, their relationship nevertheless has mellowed
Coogan somewhat. As the helicopter rises above the city, the deputy
offers the recaptured Ringerman a conciliatory cigarette. Quite unchar
acteristic of an earlier Coogan, it is an act of compassion undoubtedly
precipitated by his interaction with Julie. In the end, Coogan remains a
feminist’s ogre, the personification of patriarchal chauvinism, domina
tion, and insensitivity. He would win no prizes either from those anxious
to promote new norms and models of masculinity, expand social toler
ance for alternative life styles, or challenge the underlying assumptions
of post-war America’s dominant ideology. Neither would he please civil
libertarians and those espousing a liberal political agenda. On the other
hand, his attack upon bureaucracy, the decay and decadence of urban
America, and criminals in particular was not wasted on the nation’s vast
heartland.
Audiences have always enjoyed the bittersweet, eye opening
experiences of the rustic’s first days in the big city. Unlike Frank Capra’s
Jefferson Smith and Longfellow Deeds, however, Coogan is no country
lamb relying upon goodwill to best the treacherous urban wolf. He re
81
mains the essential Eastwood westerner, a wolf himself in many ways
yet by comparison a far superior character than those he confronts. A
stranger’s mishaps in an unknown culture generates its humorous mo
ments and Coopan’s Bluff is no exception; yet on a more profound level,
the film resounds with the animosity generated by the clash of ideologies
during the late Sixties.
Historically, such ideological conflicts have been integral to Ameri
can culture, but the divisiveness and urgency of the Vietnam War ener
gized these tensions and thrust them to the forefront of the national con
sciousness. On one hand there is New York: liberal, urban, pluralistic,
bureaucratic, sophisticated, and indulgent of idiosyncrasies and diver
gence. On the other, there is Coogan: Western, populist, individualis
tic, laconic, Puritanical, and politically conservative. In the clash be
tween the two, Don Siegel’s film sides squarely with Coogan. His por
trait of New York covers an array of the city’s most negative images. It is
truly a filthy, horrible place, overpopulated with the most offensive rabble,
an unenviable but inevitable tribute to the liberal establishment’s mis
guided social programs and its unconscionable permissiveness. Siegel
clearly stacks the deck in Coogan’s favor. Like those tracking tactics
Coogan honed in the wilderness, the traditional values of the Old West
prove equally sound in New York. The Arizona rube’s besting of the
street-wise city cops pays tribute to the principled, committed individual,
to the man who “ must do what a man’s gotta do." Coogan is also the first
of many of Eastwood’s characters to demonstrate the transcendence of
82
traditional values in the face of those who claim that they are obsolete,
anachronistic, and hopelessly old-fashioned.
Cooaan’s Bluff added another dimension to the growing East
wood persona. In many ways, his western hero was quite traditional.
His good looks and gangling body epitomized the part and his charac
ters were invariably strong, terse, self-sufficient, and skilled. Yet they
surpassed accepted norms in unsettling ways. Eastwood’s men were of
ten excessively violent, coldly calculating, and vengeful rather than for
giving. In less turbulent times, he could be respected as a good bad
man. In the ambiguous moral climate of the late Sixties, however, East
wood’s choice of less than chivalrous tactics became acceptable, if not
entirely respectable.
The problem arose, of course, when Eastwood transported the
nineteenth-century western ethos to the streets of twentieth-century
Manhattan. No longer were the issues played out comfortably upon an
historically remote stage. When Coogan’s time-honored western values
entered that most contemporary of cities, they created an uneasy feeling
for many critics. Coogan’s rugged individualism and disdain for the
counter culture smacked of a narrow-minded conservatism, one intoler
ant of nonconformity and, for good measure, quite willing to wring its
celebrants by their collective neck. Seen in light of the political, social,
and cultural turmoil gripping the United States at the time, Siegel’s pro
vocative film is a highly reactionary one. Much the same can be said of
Eastwood’s image. Based upon little more than his tough guy roles, it
became unavoidably politicized as well. With the success of Cooaan's
83
Bluff. Clint Eastwood assumed the status within the public imagination
of John Wayne’s theatrical and ideological successor.1 6
V. War and Early Variations on an Image
His star shining brightly, Eastwood completed the Sixties and
opened the Seventies with two war films, a western, and three surprising
departures from his adventurous image. Directed by Brian Hutton,
Where Eagles Dare (1969) and Kellv's Heroes (1970) featured secret
missions undertaken for high stakes during World War II. They differ
markedly, however, in style and tone. Although its action is often incre
dible, Eagles is played unashamedly straight. Using stealth and dis
guise, Allied commandos penetrate a mountain castle to rescue an Al
lied general imprisoned by the Nazis. Eastwood, playing a stoic OSS
officer, teams with Richard Burton’s eloquent British agent to save the
captured general. In the process, he handles most of the killing while
Burton does more than his share of talking. The film was well-received
at the box office and only confirmed Eastwood’s reputation as a man of
deadly action and few words, as comfortable firing a machine gun as
drawing his six-shooter.
Kellv's Heroes is a satirical caper film, blending farce with an
iconoclastic view of the military and patriotic self-sacrifice. Set in the
closing days of World War II, Kelly (Eastwood) leads a group of army
misfits behind enemy lines on a quest for millions in hidden Nazi gold.
The ragtag contingent has a suspiciously contemporary flavor about it.
,6 Grenier 62; and, Frangois Guerif, Clint Eastwood, trans. Lisa Nes-
selson (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1984) 8-9.
84
Tank commander "Oddball” sports long hair, a beard, and hashish-red
dened eyes. He also spouts hip jargon (“ there you go with those nega
tive vibrations again!” ), fires canisters of psychedelic paint from his
tank's cannon, and affects the mannered inarticulateness so fashionable
during the late Sixties.
Not unexpectedly, Kellv's Heroes includes its share of thrills and
violent action. What makes it distinctive is its affectionate toying with
Eastwood's image. Flabbergasted, the steely-eyed hero plays straight
man to the loony antics of Oddball and his eccentric crew. This softens
and humanizes his hardened image and permits Eastwood to exhibit a
lighter, less disparaging comedic turn than in previous films. Heroes
also pokes fun at Eastwood’s western image especially in its parody of a
Sergio Leone showdown. In the climactic scene, Kelly, Oddball, and
Big Joe apprehensively approach a German tank. Staged and edited to
parody the “ dollars trilogy,” its reference to Eastwood is unmistakable.
Close-ups laden with tension are juxtaposed in man-to-man and man-
to-tank combinations. Oddball, savoring the moment’s dramatic sus
pense, unsnaps his cumbersome military holster and readies this hand
for the ensuing gunfight. The music parodies Morricone’s theme from
The Good, the Bad, and the Ualy. As his first comedy since becoming a
star, Kellv’s Heroes is a precursor to many of Eastwood’s later films.
Most significantly, his gentle self-parody here begins a process of self
interrogation which will gradually assume considerable critical impor
tance during the next two decades.
85
Between these war films, Eastwood starred in Paint Your Waaon
(1968), a huge, sprawling, and very expensive musical set in the Cali
fornia Gold Rush. As a farmer suddenly turned miner, Pardner (East
wood) finds himself locked into a wealthy partnership with Ben Rumson
(Lee Marvin), an incorrigible prospector. The quiet, conventionally
peaceful Pardner stands in sharp contrast to the hard-drinking, cantan
kerous Rumson. As Ben’s faithful partner, he consoles him when
melancholy, carries him home when drunk, and backs him in numerous
questionable schemes. Pardner’s decency remains through it ail; he
even plans to leave once he discovers that he too loves Ben’s wife,
Elizabeth (Jean Seberg). Since she admits loving both men, a comfort
able menage-a-trois develops, extending the partnership to include a
woman as well as a mine. When the gold runs out, Pardner, unlike the
nomadic Ben, plans to stay with Elizabeth, resume farming, and rebuild a
respectable community from the ruins of the boom town.
A gentle soul, Pardner is surprisingly far removed from the de
tached, violent characters who made Eastwood famous. The casting,
although admittedly very much against type, seemed logically and finan
cially sound. Eastwood was fast becoming a superstar. His singing was
hardly professional, but not unpleasant within a limited range. And he
was handsome. This is an important point. For a tough, masculine type,
Eastwood’s thick hair, fine features, and lean body had not gone unno
ticed. He looked every bit the romantic leading man (albeit an inno
cent, naive one in homespun) and was photographed to accentuate
those erotic dimensions of his physicality. Prior to Paint Your Wagon.
86
Eastwood’s tough guys eschewed dialogue, relying upon gesture and
action to flesh out characterization. With the non-violent Pardner, East
wood was only required to sing softly and look beautiful. Unfortunately
for its producer, Paramount, more was expected by the public than just
another pretty face, especially from Clint Eastwood.
For his multitudinous fans, mild-mannered Pardner failed to meet
the expectations they held for Eastwood. While the disappointment re
sulting from this radical role variation affected attendance, it was not
solely responsible for the film’s failure at the box office. Just as Twentieth
Century-Fox had failed miserably with several musicals in the late Six
ties, Paramount invested too much in a genre whose popularity was be
coming increasingly problematic. Paint Your Waaon never found its
niche. This ill-timed musical appeared when other forms spoke more
creatively and relevantly to an audience increasingly dominated by
young adults. The show also proved disappointing to those spectators
anxious to experience the romance and innocent gaiety traditionally as
sociated with the musical. For them, Waaon fell short on two counts.
First of all, apart from Harve Presnell in a supporting role, none of the
| principal actors were musical talents. Eastwood, Marvin, and Jean
l
1 Seberg were a far cry from Robert Goulet, Howard Keel, and Julie An-
j drews. Furthermore, its boisterous bawdiness and matter-of-fact por-
j trayal of a polygamous relationship made it highly suspect as whole
some, family entertainment.
I More germane, however, to an understanding Clint Eastwood’s
i
; popularity was the public’s reluctance to accept him in a role which con-
87
tradicted his patriarchal image. This was glaringly apparent in The Be
guiled (1970), Eastwood’s third feature with Don Siegel. A year earlier
the two had teamed to make a western, Two Mules for Sister Sara. That
film reprised a variation on The Man with No Name. Dubbed Hogan in
this manifestation, The Man’s social aloofness is tempered somewhat
when he endures unrequited passion for an irreverent nun who has con
scripted his help. As expected, the film is action-packed. Eastwood
plays his laconic gunfighter to Shirley McLaine’s revolutionary. A salty
prostitute, her disguise as a not so pious nun fooled the evil authorities
as well as Hogan. Two Mules also set a significant relational pattern
which would appear repeatedly in Eastwood’s films. As much as his
image might imply dominance and omniscience, his characters are often
equaled, educated, and/or outwitted by strong, bright women.
Such instances usually impart humorous moments because the
heroine proves more capable, wiser, or clever than the powerful, manly
hero. Yet even in such serious moments, any apparent humiliation
Eastwood endures is short-lived for through his heroes’ strength, skill,
and perseverance, events conclude triumphantly. This is not the case in
The Beguiled. Clint Eastwood’s most radical departure from audience
expectations and, not surprisingly, his first box office failure. Ironically,
Don Siegel is joined by many critics in rating it his best film.1 7 The Be
guiled is a Gothic, often horrific tale set in a Southern girls’ school dur
ing the Civil War. Eastwood is John McBurney, a wounded Union soldier
given sanctuary by the academy’s staff and students. As director Joshua
1 7 Stuart M. Kaminsky, Don Sieael: Director (New York: Curtis Books,
1974) 234.
88
Logan had done in Paint Your Waaon , Siegel emphasizes the romantic
rather than the action potential of Eastwood’s persona. McBurney, how
ever, by no means resembles the proper, trust-worthy Pardner. Finding
the school’s atmosphere laden with sexual frustration, he manipulates
several women for his own pleasure and endeavors to exploit their de
sire to assume mastery of the institution.
McBurney’s plans run aground when he is discovered in bed with
the salacious Carol. Enraged at his deceitfulness, a jealous Edwina
pushes him down the stairs. Badly reinjuring his wounded leg, McBur
ney faints. While unconscious, Martha Farnsworth, headmistress and
another among the scorned, amputates the soldier's leg. Upon regain
ing consciousness and learning of his loss, McBurney secures a pistol
and usurps authority in the school. The women respond by poisoning
him. Watching this group of vengeful women cripple, symbolically cas
trate, outsmart, murder, and finally lower Clint Eastwood into a grave was
a devastating experience for his many fans. Witnessing the humiliation
and emasculation of the screen's reigning signifier of masculine strength,
beauty, and invincibility was more painful than most could tolerate. Not
surprisingly, the public shunned The Beguiled and it drifted into that
special province reserved for critically acclaimed films which, for vari
ous reasons, never find their audiences.
Eastwood explains The Beauiled's failure by pointing to Univer
sal^ incredibly inane marketing strategy.1 8 The studio promoted it as a
typical Eastwood vehicle when obviously it was nothing of the kind. This
1 8 McGilligan 20.
89
dark, brooding film was simply too peculiar, too sophisticated for a mass
audience. Perhaps it would have succeeded on a limited scale if Uni
versal had targeted a more select audience, one with a penchant for the
intellectual, abstract, or baroque. In 1970, Clint Eastwood's following
hardly fit that description.
Two important conclusions emerge from the actor’s involvement in
The Beguiled. First, its failure indicated that “Clint Eastwood” as a unit of
meaning was already so entrenched in the popular consciousness that
any role which contradicted it would simply not be tolerated. He was no
repertory actor playing diverse roles. Eastwood was very much a star, a
performer whose virile screen characters had delighted viewers and
sparked their imaginations. Through him, audiences vicariously played
out many of their deepest fantasies and resolved the tensions evoked by
prevailing cultural contradictions. Because an Eastwood film generated
such very strong expectations and identifications, any departure so radi
cal as The Beguiled hardly ingratiated itself to viewers. The sight of a
crippled, powerless Eastwood was harsh medicine to swallow; many
experienced it personally as a devastating, humiliating indignity.
A second conclusion concerns the axiomatic prohibition against
Eastwood’s dying on screen. Much like his previous characters, McBur
ney endures a succession of harsh, physical ordeals, but he is the only
one who eventually dies. Furthermore, in heaping insult upon injury, his
is not a hero’s honorable death but rather an empty, ignominious one.
The Beguiled mocked deep-seated convictions and expectations about
the star. It violated his image is ways which audiences found simply un
90
acceptable. To say that Eastwood, given the significance of his star
image, was not right for the part in no way diminishes the film’s consider
able quality. It is indicative, however, of the iconic power Clint Eastwood
already exerted at this early stage in his career. The Beauiled’s rejection
by audiences, then, testified to the nature of Eastwood’s cultural signifi
cance and indicated the consequences which awaited any film which
frustrated audience expectations by seriously undercutting his image.
Mindful of these precarious possibilities, Universal’s executives
responded rather skeptically to Eastwood’s proposal to make Plav Mistv
for Me (1971).1 9 On the face of it, the project certainly seemed risky. In
addition to casting himself uncharacteristically as a mild-mannered disk
jockey, Eastwood also wanted to direct the film. After considerable op
position, the studio finally relented when the star agreed to waive his
normal acting fee and settle for the director’s share of any potential pro
fits.2 0 As his directorial debut, Plav Mistv for Me performed handsomely
at the box office and garnered praise from surprised critics. Its success
also represented another step in Eastwood’s quest for independence
and creative autonomy, a lofty height to which many filmmakers aspire
but few reach and still fewer maintain. Earlier, upon his return from Italy,
Eastwood established his own production company, Malpaso, through
which he could develop properties and contract his acting services.
Gradually, as his prior commitments were fulfilled, all new films starring
Eastwood became Malpaso co-productions. This enabled him to exer-
,9McGilligan 19.
2 0 McGilligan 19.
91
cise control directly over stories, scripts, and budgets. With Plav Mistv’s
strong showing, Eastwood had now attained that enviable position of de
termining both the form and the content of his creative efforts.
Plav Misty for Me. like Paint Your Waaon and The Beguiled, em
phasizes not Eastwood’s formidability, but the star’s physical beauty.
Admittedly, each may elicit an erotic response but clearly disk jockey
Dave Garver is not a man prone to violence or dangerous adventure.
Outwardly, Garver is every bit the swinging man-about -town. He lives
comfortably in beautiful Carmel-by-the-Sea, drives a vintage sports car,
and wears the latest fashions. Like earlier Eastwood characters, Garver
is soft-spoken and seemingly easy going, but he lacks a Puritan’s disre
gard for material trappings and clarity of purpose which the others
share. Comparatively speaking, Garver displays a certain foppish shal
lowness bordering on narcissism. Yet as his renewed commitment to an
old girlfriend grows more substantial, he becomes a far more sympathetic
character. What makes him more so is his victimization, his unrelenting
suffocation and persecution by a psychotic woman with whom he was
once romantically involved.
Having once known such oppressiveness in his private life, East
wood was intrigued by the script’s depiction of obsessive attachments.2 1
One night after his radio show, Dave Garver encounters an avid fan,
Evelyn Draper, at a local bar. After drinks and chitchat, she invites him
to her home where they conclude the evening in bed. For him, this
casual liaison was agreed upon by both parties to hold no expectations
2 1 Knight 70.
92
or commitments. For her, it has been the realization of a fantasized love
affair she concocted while spending lonely nights tuned to his broad
casts. Imagining Dave’s feelings mirror the intensity of her own, Evelyn
throws herself totally into his life. Very soon he finds himself smothered
by her embarrassing interruptions and incessant demands for attention.
Eventually driven to distraction, Dave confronts her with the truth about
her blatant misreading of his actions. When he terminates the relation
ship, Evelyn responds by attempting suicide in his home.
With the help of a discreet doctor, Dave manages to save Evelyn.
He is dubiously rewarded, however, when her psychopathic activities es
calate. Seething with bitterness and jealousy, she plots to murder him
and his long-time girlfriend, Tobe. She nearly succeeds during a final
bloody confrontation. In a darkened house, Evelyn ambushes Dave with
a butcher knife, slashing his arm as he attempts to rescue a terrified
Tobe. Fighting for his life against the crazed woman, Dave musters
enough strength to knock Evelyn through a porch railing and to her
death on the jagged rocks below. With the support of Tobe, a bloodied
and exhausted Dave limps away to the sound of Evelyn’s favorite song,
Errol Garner’s “Misty.”
Play Mistv for Me is a story about two persons sharing an inti
mate experience but coming at it with radically dissimilar expectations,
operating from vastly different levels of commitment, and the horrible
affects resulting from this explosive and ultimately tragic situation.
Epitomizing the horror of personality subgenre, the film succeeds with
out Clint Eastwood as his typical tough guy. This thriller with its shocks
93
and suspense works as a slasher film par excellence; but, also, the
very nature of its subject matter strikes a responsive chord with audi
ences. Misty touches a very real fear of the potential nightmare inherent
in any love affair lacking reciprocal caring and commitment. The film
plays on the apprehensions as well as the lived experiences of intimate
relationships gone wrong, of misplaced trust, and of the suffocation in
flicted by an unbearably demanding partner.
Plav Mistv for Me represents an important breakthrough in Clint
Eastwood’s career and in the development of his image. His capable
direction forced critics, most of whom had routinely dismissed him as a
one-dimensional actor, to look beyond the macho roles and recognize a
blooming talent. Plav Mistv changed and expanded Eastwood profes
sionally. It was his first step toward achieving recognition as a complete
filmmaker, one whose style and recurring themes would eventually earn
him auteur status. Furthermore, it would reinforce his image as a man
in control, as a self-sufficient one with the resolute strength to determine
his own destiny. Like The Man with No Name, Eastwood was in charge,
and on his own terms. Quiet and enigmatic, he had arrived from seem
ingly nowhere to establish himself as a formidable presence in a town
fueled by greed and the quest for power.
By 1971, Clint Eastwood was an international superstar, much to
the bewilderment of nearly every critic. The cover of Life heralded the
surprise with “ The World's Favorite Movie Star ls--No Kidding— Clint
Eastwood.” 2 2 Whether art was imitating life or life art, the screen East-
2 2 Life 23 July 1971.
94
wood was fast becoming indistinguishable from the private one. Just
how close that identification was in the public consciousness became
shockingly apparent when Eastwood teamed with Don Siegel to create
a character whose power and polemic would be so great that Eastwood,
for better or for worse, would be forever associated with him. That char
acter, of course, was Inspector Harry Callahan and the film was the con
troversial, disturbingly volatile Dirtv Harrv.
VI. Harry Callahan
Dirtv Harrv represents a milestone in the development of Clint
Eastwood’s screen persona. Since the introduction of Harry Callahan in
1971, the actor has broadened his range to include much gentler, less
formidable characters. Despite these, however, Harry remains the cen
tral determinant of Eastwood’s image around the world. Undoubtedly
much of this is due to Eastwood’s reappearance as Harry in four se
quels, each one rivaling its predecessor’s success at the box office. Al
though Harry has softened, or perhaps more appropriately, has become
less hardened during the course of Maanum Force (1973), The Enforcer
(1976), Sudden Impact (1983). and The Dead Pool (19881. he has re
mained essentially the same quintessential Eastwood character through
out the evolution of the star’s career.
If it is possible to describe an allegedly reactionary film as revolu
tionary, then Dirtv Harrv was a revolutionary motion picture. Equivocation
aside, Harry Callahan personified an inflexible, hard line approach to
lawlessness just when definitions of criminal behavior and political ac
tion were undergoing radical reassessment. Sharing the iconoclasm of
95
other films from the late Sixties and early Seventies, Harrv targeted the
integrity of several American institutions but took aim from a decidedly
different vantage point. While most cinema accentuated the govern
ment's overt indifference to genuine human suffering or examined its il
legal covert operations, Harrv emphasized not government’s abusive
machinations but rather its impotence, its inability to protect an innocent
citizenry from vicious criminals and sociopaths.
Dirtv Harrv pilloried a bureaucratic legal system for losing sight of
its fundamental responsibilities. By overly privileging the rights of the ac
cused and rationalizing the destructiveness of political activists, govern
ment had shackled itself, abandoning society to the mercy of brutal thugs.
By abusing Constitutional protections, criminals shielded themselves
behind legal technicalities while perpetuating a reign of terror against the
innocent. Seen from this perspective, Dirtv Harrv was among the first
films to raise the banner of victims’ rights. And it did so provocatively at
an extremely explosive moment in American history.
During the past twenty years, concern for the victims of violent
crime has grown considerably. In 1971, however, many people viewed
appeals to “ victims’ rights” much as they did those to “law-and-order”
and “national security” -- as merely right-wing smokescreens to mask po
lice brutality and justify the government’s covert machinations. Per
ceived in this light, Dirtv Harry incited protests from liberals and civil lib
ertarians sensitive to any threat upon the sanctity of Constitutional rights
and guarantees. Such polemic only complicated Clint Eastwood’s image
because it intensified the process of its politicization which began with
96
Hana’em High and Cooaan’s Bluff. The role of Harry Callahan en
hanced the actor’s position as an international star but it simultaneously
solidified Eastwood’s reputation as a dangerous conservative, the cham
pion of a repressive, reactionary ideology.
Those attributes shared by many Eastwood characters became
disturbingly pronounced in Inspector Callahan. Laconic, persistent, and
stubbornly self-sufficient, Harry is the modern day equivalent to Marshal
Jed Cooper, the vengeful hero of Hana’em Hiah. Placing him within the
context of contemporary San Francisco, however, makes Harry appear
far darker than his western counterpart. Much like The Man with No
Name, Harry’s background is sketchy at best. He was reared in San
Francisco’s Portrero district. His wife died the victim of a drunk driver.
And within the police department he is known as a tough, street-wise
cop--a hardened misanthrope whose handling of the dirtiest assign
ments often involves the deadliest use of force. Why he perseveres in
this distasteful job remains a mystery; even he cannot explain his com
mitment to it.
This rough description is certainly not inconsistent with previous
Eastwood heroes. Like them, Harry is also a man of action. His silence
is not an introspective, reflective one. Rather it hides a steely determi
nation, one fiercely committed to those inflexible dictates of his per
sonal moral code. The resonances with Walt Coogan are certainly obvi
ous but Harry has taken Coogan’s anachronistic sensibility beyond hu
morous incongruity to express a genuine alienation. Coogan returns to
Arizona having braved the city and gotten his man. Harry must remain in
97
that dehumanizing world and battle its wretchedness. In his brooding
dissatisfaction with that world, his reliance upon intuition and visceral
feelings, and in his rejection of contemporary society’s values and its
leaders’ authority, Harry Callahan stands apart as a nineteenth-century
romantic of titanic proportions.
Unlike Leone’s anti-hero, Harry lacks a whimsical attitude toward
the evil around him. While humorous insults and insensitivities continue
to punctuate its scenes, Dirty Harrv introduces a far more troubling level
of cynicism. Harry sees his city, San Francisco significantly, as a de
praved one (“I'd like to throw a net over the whole lot of them” ) that de
ceives itself with sanctimonious platitudes extolling love, freedom, and
liberation. Faced with the counter culture’s calls for heightened aware
ness and increased sensitivity, Harry’s consciousness-raising has failed
miserably. Untouched by such sensibilities, he answers them with biting
one-liners and a skeptical eye. For example, when Harry meets his new
partner Chico Gonzales, he complains about the problems of breaking in
a novice. Overhearing Harry’s mutterings, Officer Frank Digorgio kib
itzes, “ That's one thing about our Harry. Doesn’t play any favorites.
Harry hates everybody: limeys, micks, Hebes, fat dagos, niggers, honk-
ies, chinks.” Chico asks, “How does he feel about Mexicans?” Still dis
gruntled, Harry deadpans, “Especially spiks.”
Harry directs much of his bitter humor at bureaucrats and criminals
alike. When the mayor asks him what he is doing to capture a danger
ous sniper, Harry answers, “ Well, for the last half hour I’ve been outside
your office sitting on my ass.” In the film’s most famous scene, the hero
98
has just foiled a bank robbery by killing two bandits and winging a third.
As Harry stands over the lone survivor, he eyes the wounded man’s
hand inching toward a nearby shotgun. Pointing his revolver at the rob
ber, Harry delivers what has become a litany for Eastwood’s fans: “I
know what you’re thinking: ‘Has he fired six shots or only five?’ Well, to
tell you the truth, in all this excitement I forgot myself. But being how this
is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world and would
blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: ‘Do I
feel lucky?’ Well, do you punk?” After assessing the odds, the criminal
relents and Harry retrieves the shotgun. As he turns away, the man calls
after him, “Hey, I gots to know.” Harry calmly returns, aims the huge
weapon at the terrified man’s face, and pulls the trigger. The hammer
strikes an empty cartridge casing. Harry chuckles knowingly and strolls
away from the relieved but cursing bank robber.
Like Jed Cooper, Harry walks an uneasy line between his supe
riors’ expectations and the demands of his own moral code. When a sni
per brutally ambushes a woman, Harry takes charge of the case. Calling
himself Scorpio, the killer is an especially nasty villain who threatens to
shoot San Franciscans randomly until the city pays him $100,000. Af
ter Harry’s initial efforts fail to stop him, Scorpio murders a child and kid
naps fourteen-year-old Ann Mary Deacon. To stop a bloodbath, the
mayor agrees to meet the extortioner’s demands. The task of delivering
the money falls upon Harry who, along with Chico, devises an unauthor
ized plan for capturing the killer. When Harry finally meets Scorpio, the
latter breaks his word. He intends to take the money, shoot Harry, and
99
allow the kidnapped girl to suffocate slowly in a hidden chamber. During
Chico’s last second rescue attempt, Harry thrusts a knife into the sni
per's thigh. Later that evening, the inspector tracks the hunted man to
Keezar Stadium, searches his rooms, and corners him on the football
field. In a particularly gruesome scene, Harry shoots the man in his
injured leg and tortures the prisoner until he reveals the whereabouts of
Ann Mary Deacon. Sadly, she is subsequently found dead, already mur
dered by Scorpio before his meeting with Harry.
Summoned to the district attorney’s office soon afterwards, Harry
learns that the murder weapon obtained while searching Scorpio’s
room is inadmissible evidence in a court of law. Also, under any num
ber of Constitutional amendments, the Deacon girl’s body cannot be en
tered as evidence by the prosecution. In capturing Scorpio, Harry seri
ously violated the accused’s rights, making it impossible to convict the
man of any crime. Harry reacts angrily, “ Well, I’m all broken up about
that man's rights.. . . And Ann Mary Deacon, what about her rights? I
mean she’s raped and left in a hole to die. Who speaks for her?” The
helpless district attorney, sympathetic to Harry’s frustrations, claims that
his office is responsive, but under the circumstances, all charges against
the defendant must be dropped. Learning that Scorpio will be freed, an
outraged Harry predicts, “ You know you’re crazy if you think you’ve
heard the last of this guy. He’s gonna kill again . . . because he likes it.”
It is not long before Harry’s skepticism is justified. Scorpio kid
naps a school bus and threatens to kill its children unless the mayor
meets his demands for money and an escape plane. The mayor acqui-
100
esces but Harry, disgusted with what he perceives as cowardly placa-
tion, refuses to deliver the money. Later that day, as the school bus and
Scorpio pull off the freeway, Harry stands waiting atop an overpass.
Leaping on to the bus’ roof, he avoids Scorpio’s gunfire and lands on a
sand pile when the bus swerves to a stop. A running gun battle accom
panies the chase through a rickety gravel factory. Finally, Harry corners
Scorpio on a nearby dock only to find that the killer has taken a young
boy hostage.
Pretending to follow Scorpio’s demands , Harry lowers his gun.
Suddenly he jerks it up and fires, wounding the killer’s left arm and
knocking him off his feet. His hostage safely away, Scorpio squats vul
nerably on the dock, eying the loaded pistol only an arm’s length away.
Harry approaches, stops, and aims his giant pistol at this enemy whom
he hates so intensely. Harry repeats the famous lines he delivered
earlier to the fallen bank robber. “I know what you're thinking: ‘Did he
fire six shots or only five?’. .. ask yourself one question: ‘Do I feel lucky?’
Well, do you punk?” This time, however, Harry barks the words with
such venom, with such bitter rage that he is clearly seeking an excuse
to execute this vicious criminal. Scorpio weighs his chances. With an
insane laugh, he springs for the gun. Harry’s bullet explodes squarely
through the man’s chest, lifting him off the dock, and plunging his body
into the water. As he watches the floating corpse, Harry angrily jams his
gun into its holster and removes the inspector’s badge from his coat poc
ket. For a long moment he stares at the star contemptuously. Then
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Harry removes it from its casing, flings it into the water, and slowly walks
away.
This ending, in fact the entire film, troubled both liberals and con
servatives. In much the same way that Patton had troubled hawks and
doves a year earlier, Dirty Harrv could not be reduced simplistically to
neat political categories. Harry Callahan represented a civil libertar
ian’s nightmare, a cop who flagrantly disregarded due process and will
ingly employed violence to secure his ends. Yet his blatant contempt for
traditional authority challenged the integrity of the American system in
ways that also troubled conservatives. In any case, the film found a tre
mendous audience ready to canonize Harry for his defiance of bureau
cratic inefficiency on the one hand and for his no-nonsense treatment of
criminals on the other. While those on college campuses and urbane
cultural centers overlooked the dynamics at work in Dirtv Harry's attrac
tion, the inspector become a hero to millions across America's heartland
as well as within its inner cities.2 3
It is difficult to underestimate the importance of this film in the
evolution of Clint Eastwood’s image. To underscore an earlier point, in
Harry Callahan Eastwood crystallized nearly all those attributes associ
ated with him since The Man with No Name had made him a star. Mys
terious, unemotional, and tight-lipped, he also towered as a rugged in
dividualist whose terse, often violent approach to society’s predators es
tablished him as a striking, unforgettable anti-hero. Harry serves as the
2 3 John Vinocur, “Clint Eastwood, Seriously,” New York Times Maga
zine 24 February 1985: 24; and, Nat Hentoff, “Flight of Fancy.” American
Film September 1988: 28.
102
prototypical Eastwood character: a squinting tough guy, silent, strong,
and driven by an intuitive moral sense in dispensing justice with a clean,
swift finality. Harry is the standard to which all other Eastwood charac
ters are compared; and, ironically, it is through those comparisons that
Eastwood’s self-reflexiveness has been detected and his critical reputa
tion affirmed.
Harry Callahan is also Eastwood at his most problematic. For all
the police inspector's heroics, there remains a perpetual uneasiness
surrounding the character. At times Harry’s dogged determination is no
less than frightening. To be sure, Eastwood’s apocalyptic horseman in
High Plains Drifter (1973^ is more merciless and misanthropic, but Harry
remains the most disturbing Eastwood character. Operating in 1971,
Harry confronted those volatile issues which were then, as they are now,
all too prevalent on the modern American urban scene. In contrast,
Eastwood’s western films encourage a greater, safer aesthetic distance
by depicting their conflicts within the romantic setting of the Old West.
While the western can and often has employed historical metaphor as a
valuable device for social commentary, it lacks the sense of immediacy
enjoyed by the contemporary urban policier. Additionally, the transfer of
Eastwood’s violent hero to a radically different time and place is of major
significance. Harry Callahan’s tough tactics in Tombstone would not pro
voke second thoughts but their presence in sophisticated, liberated San
Francisco incites a storm of controversy.
Dirtv Harrv touched a raw nerve-the acute sensitivities, fears,
and angers of a vast audience weary with the apparent failures of liber
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alism.24That Clint Eastwood would become so firmly associated in the
public imagination with its hero is a testimony to those issues and the
film’s power in courting them. It is little wonder, then, that Eastwood
would become enmeshed within the subsequent uproar. For many he
was a hero, for others he represented the worst elements of patriarchy.
But whether he was admired or damned, Eastwood so impressed audi
ences and critics alike that they began to approach him with a new seri
ousness. Perhaps Eastwood was too good at the part, too believable. In
any case, the film began the process through which the actor would be
come permanently identified with Harry Callahan.
There is a strange, paradoxical blend of romanticism and Puritan
ism in Eastwood which becomes quite evident in Dirtv Harrv. Its hero ex
periences modern urban society with a romantic’s dissatisfaction and
estrangement. Much of this alienation springs from the compromise, cor
ruption, and superficiality he sees about him. Of this world but distanced
from it, he answers to a higher law than the one he is paid to enforce.2 5
The abstract principles of these personal moral imperatives remain un
articulated for they arise from his deepest, most immediate feelings.
Harry admits he cannot explain even to himself why he continues to do
what does; he only knows he is driven to do what he feels he must. Be
ginning somewhat with The Man with No Name but realized most fully
with Harry, intuition guides Eastwood’s heroes. It does not, however,
spring merely from the heart; it is also inexplicably touched by an intan
2 4 Grenier 63.
2 5 See Eastwood’s comments on “ a higher law” in McGilligan 17.
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gible otherworldliness which legitimizes their actions. When Harry and
the others act, they do so with a certainty and authority that is charismatic,
This mystical dimension appears repeatedly throughout Eastwood’s
oeuvre. Several of his heroes are seemingly attuned to an inscrutable
power which imbues them with a cunning and strength far beyond that
accorded normal men.
Eastwood’s romanticism escalates considerably when it turns to
retribution against those who violate the more serious dictates of the
hero’s moral sensibility. Not content merely to wallow in Weltschmerz,
Harry acts decisively to counter the wickedness about him. Guided not
only by the restrictions imposed by society’s laws or those of a strict re
ligious code, Harry follows predominately his own. The most severe
transgressions are those perpetrated against himself, his family, and his
friends. As with the Italian westerns, vengeance is a major motivational
force in Eastwood’s films.2 6 Ridding the streets of a dangerous criminal
is important to Harry but it does not adequately explain his obsession
with Scorpio. For Harry, settling a personal score against one who has
hurt and humiliated him is central. And Harry, like many Eastwood he
roes to follow, does just that, totally and mercilessly. In the manner of a
Calvinist judge, Harry, responding to a higher law than society’s, pur
sues and punishes the wicked for their iniquities.
Anyone, especially a police officer, who violently carries out a
personal vendetta raises serious challenges to the stability of any civi
lized society. When encountering such individuals in dramatic films,
26Ansen, Lubenow, and McAlevey52.
105
however, audiences generally particularize their situations and per
ceive them not as dangerous vigilantes but actually as quite the opposite.
This occurs particularly when such characters find themselves pitted
against the likes of a Scorpio who can only be stopped when the heroes
take matters into their own hands. The repeated box office success of
these films illustrates their power to strike an intensely emotional chord in
spectators. Yet in spite of the delight they inspire, when their heroes’
behavior is generalized and abstracted into principles of justice, what
remains cannot help but incite legitimate fears of chaotic violence and
social anarchy.
It comes as no surprise, then, that Harry Callahan’s explosive ap
pearance in 1971 created considerable controversy. And little wonder
that it should engulf the actor whose portrayal was so effective that it
would lead to his lasting identification with that character. Critic Andrew
Sarris recognized the glaring contradiction in Eastwood’s inspector.
While the film and its sequels had seduced him into sympathizing with
Harry, Sarris felt troubled by that seduction in light of the intellectual im
plications of the character’s radical individualism.2 7 This fundamental
ambiguity toward Harry/Eastwood which has become a hallmark of the
actor’s image was pinpointed by Norman Mailer when he described
Eastwood’s heroes as “psychopaths who acted with all the silence, cer
2 7 Quoted in Johnstone 93.
106
tainty, and gravity of saints, or would it be closer to say that he played
saints who killed like psychopaths?"2 8
Richard Dyer's phrase “ structured polysemy” refers to the multiple
and often contradictory meanings a star communicates to his public.2 9
For Eastwood, which aspects are privileged and which are deempha
sized will form the gestalt by which he is read. Is Eastwood/Harry a cul
tural anachronism, one who violates the technicalities and formalities of
social apparatuses, employs violence with little provocation, and pro
motes the very worst elements of traditional masculine sex role models?
Does he perpetuate the most abhorrent attributes of patriarchal ideol
ogy? Or is he a hero who risks his life to protect the innocent and up
hold fundamental decency when no one else is willing to accept those
responsibilities? Is he a traditional American hero upholding the very
best of traditional American values when thrust into a corrupt modern
setting?
An examination of the history of Clint Eastwood’s star image re
veals that each of these questions may be answered affirmatively at one
time or another. What questions and issues are foregrounded depends
upon who chooses them, when they are being raised, and what films are
being discussed. To every role, Eastwood brings a set of meanings
which have their roots in Leone’s westerns and particularly in Dirty
Harrv. After the latter, Eastwood’s films will become partly a reaction to
28Norman Mailer, “ All the Pirates and People,” Parade 23 October
1983: 7.
“ Richard Dyer, Stars (London: British Film Institute, 1979) 72.
107
and a commentary upon that image, expanding and qualifying it at times,
interrogating and satirizing it at others. Where he takes that series of
meditations after Dirty Harrv is the concern of the next chapter.
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Chapter Five
Clint Eastwood: The Image (II)
I. Introduction
During the four years after Dirtv Harrv. Clint Eastwood solidified
his image as a patriarchal hero, a champion of the traditional masculine
paradigm. Established mainly by The Man with No Name and Inspector
Callahan, his reputation for violent action, verbal and emotional strin
gency, and rugged self-sufficiency remained essentially unchanged. Be
tween 1972 and 1976, Eastwood’s films found him playing a westerner
three times, a professional assassin, a bank robber, and Harry Callahan
once again in the sequel Magnum Force 1 19731. He also directed three
of these in addition to Breezy (1973), a film in which he did not appear.
Joe Kidd (19721. his first role after Dirtv Harrv. was a muddled attempt by
veteran John Sturges but its visual style influenced Eastwood directori-
ally. It is readily apparent in High Plains Drifter (1973) and The Outlaw
Josey Wales (1976). The latter film was conspicuous for revealing East
wood’s maturation as a filmmaker. It also showed that his screen per
sona was assuming more complexity than either his public or the critical
establishment had foreseen. This chapter will examine Clint Eastwood’s
films between 1972 and 1976 to explicate those continuities that rein
force Eastwood’s tough guy image. In addition, it will examine certain
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variations and innovations in Eastwood’s films which anticipate direc
tions the actor/director will later explore as he sets about interrogating
that image.
I. Joe Kidd (1972)
In most ways, Joe Kidd’s hero resembles other Eastwood charac-
ers but the film also introduces elements which later films will amplify.
Eastwood is an experienced tracker who owns a small ranch near the
border town of Sinola. The film opens with Joe in jail, handcuffed to his
cot while sleeping off the affects of a drunken brawl from the previous
night. Sharing the cell are two Mexican prisoners, one of whom, Naco,
delights in pouring coffee for Joe and then placing the cup just beyond
his limited reach. When a deputy arrives to escort him to trial, Joe is
freed from his bed. He stands and slowly follows the deputy. Prior to
exiting the cell, however, he stops by its table, lifts a pot of stew, and
backhands it into his tormenter’s face. Clearly, Joe Kidd marches to the
same tune as earlier Eastwood characters: he allows no personal af
fronts to go unreciprocated. Likewise, he is not a man to be teased or
tormented. Before the judge, Joe’s sentencing is interrupted when Luis
Chama and his gang burst into the courtroom. Claiming that the justice
system merely rubber stamps the Americans’ appropriation of his peo
ple’s ancestral lands, Chama burns the disputed legal documents and
prepares to kidnap the judge. In the ensuing confusion, Joe scurries the
judge to safety through the local saloon.
Knowing just what to do and what to expect is a mark of East
wood’s heroes and Joe is no exception. In the saloon, he locates the
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bartender's shotgun, checks both barrels, and breakfasts on beer while
calmly waiting for events to unfold. In walks Naco, freed from jail by
Chama and determined to settle the score with his former cellmate. Naco
notices Joe standing quietly behind the bar, a glass in one hand and a
shotgun in the other. As he discreetly withdraws, the bandit chuckles
that they will meet again one day. Joe smiles in agreement. Naco exits
through the swinging saloon doors, pauses momentarily, then charges
back in hoping to surprise Joe. Fully anticipating his return, Joe has not
moved his weapon. Its blast sends the assailant flying through the doors
and into the muddy street. That finished, Joe casually continues drink
ing his breakfast.
The nonchalance with which he accomplishes this killing demon
strates Joe Kidd’s skill, bravery, and experience. It is also illustrative of
Eastwood’s black humor which typically arises after a killing. In the lull
that often follows violent encounters, he accentuates it with actions
and/or comments which reveal a remarkable insensitivity. Along with the
tension released by these comic words and gestures, what frees East
wood from wholesale condemnation is the very nastiness of his adver
saries. Seldom are audiences pained by his victims’ fates. Invariably
these miscreants qualify as prime additions to any rogues’ gallery, a
scurrilous lot whose departure is welcomed cheerfully rather than pro
voking moral anguish. This attitude is expressed succinctly by Harry Cal
lahan in Maanum Force when he responds to a warning about the like
lihood of shooting during his next assignment. "There's nothing wrong
with shooting,” Harry declares, “ as long as the right people get shot.”
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What makes Eastwood’s violence and callousness acceptable for audi
ences is that his victims are unquestionably “ the right people.” They are
invariably recognizable social types who arouse such anger and resent
ment that spectators attain considerable relief, release, and moral satis
faction in watching Eastwood’s heroes destroy them.
When the sheriff organizes a posse to pursue Chama, Joe re
fuses to serve as guide. “I have nothing against Luis Chama,” he ex
plains. A few days later, wealthy landowner Frank Harlan and his hired
guns arrive in Sinola. Tired of Luis Chama’s meddling in his plans to ex
pand his holdings, Harlan is organizing his own extralegal force to track
and destroy Chama. Needing a guide, Harlan offers Joe a handsome
figure to lead him to Chama. Initially he turns him down but after dis
covering that Chama’s gang has rustled his horses and beaten his fore
man, Joe accepts Harlan's offer. As with previous Eastwood characters,
his motivation is revenge: he must settle the score for wrongs done
him. He may occasionally utter lofty legal sentiments, but in the end his
actions are grounded in a desire to retaliate for a personal injury or hu
miliation.
Joe Kidd is filled with contradictions. At first, it resembles many
revisionist westerns of the Sixties and Seventies which interrogated the
mythology of America’s continental expansion and settlement. It too re
flects the national sensibility toward critical self-examination and height
ened social consciousness. Villains of these films were often robber
barons, rugged individualists whose greedy participation in manifest des
tiny left behind it a trail of exploitation, racism, and corruption. In Joe
112
Kidd. Frank Harlan is using the courts to invalidate the claims of Mexi
can peasants to the ownership of their ancestral lands. Luis Chama,
part bandit, part activist, defies the injustice of the courts and fights for
the rights of his people. Chama, however, is much akin to his modern
counterparts who find themselves torn between the selfless commitment
demanded of popular leaders and the temptation of self-aggrandize
ment which leadership invites. At one point, it becomes questionable
whether he truly cares about his people or is willing to sacrifice them
needlessly for the sake of enhancing his own reputation.
Neither Chama nor his hunter, Frank Harlan, are paradigms of
virtue. Neither man is without his faults but when compared, Harlan is
certainly morally black to Chama’s gray. Each man willingly takes the
law into his own hands. Each rides roughshod over it. Chama sees the
legal system as little more than a tool by which Anglo society legitimizes
the theft of Hispanics’ land. Harlan, the very embodiment of unbridled
economic individualism, views the law as a trivial formality, in this in
stance as merely an impediment to what he wants and is therefore en
titled to have. Joe Kidd, prone to violence and no legalist himself, walks
a middle line. After experiencing Harlan’s ruthlessness, he switches
sides and attempts to persuade Chama to return to Sinola, surrender to
the authorities, and take his chances with the courts.
Beginning with the Italian westerns, many Eastwood films have
used and encouraged a fascination with powerful, extraordinary weap
ons. Leone delighted in featuring an exotic array of firearms and cer
tainly Dirtv Harrv showcased the inspector’s huge .44 Magnum. It also
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remains a consistently controversial topic in the critical commentaries
about its hero. In Joe Kidd, high-powered hunting rifles and a Mauser
semi-automatic pistol become instrumental in Joe’s survival as he and
Chama struggle to reach town before Harlan can kill them. Eastwood’s
adroitness with each weapon reinforced his image of mastery, power,
and deadliness.
As Joe and Chama approach Sinola, they realize that Harlan’s
men are lying in ambush. Two instances from the ensuing gunfight ex
emplify very clearly the importance of retribution in this film. The first ap
pears within the context of yet another outrageous instance of East
wood’s callous humor. Earlier Joe had learned that one of Chama’s
men, Ramon, was responsible for beating and torturing his foreman.
Fully aware of Harlan’s hidden snipers, Joe instructs Ramon to lead the
others into town. Ramon assumes the point. Seconds later, a single
fatal shot knocks Ramon off his horse and into the mud. Revealing only
a hint of satisfaction, Joe deadpans to himself almost in afterthought,
“Figured we might be too close,” and turns the party away from this dan
gerous entrance to town.
The second instance of retaliation concludes the climactic shoot
out. As Harlan stalks through the seemingly deserted courtroom, Joe,
seated at the judge’s bench, spins around in the chair and surprises
Harlan. Aiming his revolver at the armed man, Joe stares at him momen
tarily. In pulling the trigger, he dispenses summary justice from the seat
of legal justice. Throughout this film, Joe Kidd has condemned the extra-
legal excesses of Chama and Harlan. Yet it concludes with this same
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character acting as judge, jury, and executioner with scant consideration
for due process of law. Once again, Eastwood is the dispenser of justice,
the man responsible for punishing the wicked. Where his legitimacy orig
inates is unclear but within the context of the drama, Joe comprehends
events and moral distinctions more clearly than others. He, like Harry
and most Eastwood characters, operates from an intuitive sense of what
is meet and just. His authority continues to be charismatic and within the
structure of these films, it appears appropriate in practice if unquestion
ably suspect in theory.
In spite of his initial drunken scruffiness, Joe enjoys great suc
cess with women. Frank Harlan’s mistress, Elma, takes an immediate
shine to Joe and kisses him when first they meet. Chama’s girlfriend,
Helen Sanchez, seems equally drawn to Joe, especially after Chama
humiliates her. When she offers her opinion, he silences her with the
hard truth that she is only there to meet his sexual needs and amuse him
during slack times. Helen’s advice, or any woman’s advice for that mat
ter, is neither solicited nor appreciated. She is drawn to Joe for his
strength, caring, and the respect he gives her. Since romantic feelings
between the two are hardly developed, their riding off together at film’s
end comes as an unexpected surprise, almost as if it were by after
thought. Eastwood’s sexual relationships in Joe Kidd resemble those in
most of his earlier films. Women find him irresistible and he enjoys their
company but his eroticism flows from his physicality and dominance. For
the most part, he is an action star playing self-sufficient individuals with
few ties to women, domesticity, or even the male group. Intimate, loving
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relationships are practically non-existent and the occasional romantic
interludes are simply incidental in films which revolve around the excit
ing adventures of a superhero fashioned in the mold of the traditional
patriarchal paradigm.
As a western aspiring to serious themes, Joe Kidd failed to rea
lize its very real potentialities. Nonetheless it succeeded at the box of
fice because this edition of the perennial Eastwood tough guy continued
to attract audiences in the same way his predecessors did. While the film
paid lip service to those cherished ideals of due process and to the rele
vancy of social consciousness, it reverted to espousing a brand of jus
tice not unlike Harry Callahan’s. The significance of Joe Kidd on Clint
Eastwood’s image was two-fold. On one hand, it further solidified his
persona as a conservative avenger, a severe judge who punished those
who violate society’s fundamental precepts. Second, the film also repre
sents one of Eastwood’s earliest efforts to temper his image by distancing
himself from political conservatism’s dark underbelly where often linger
fascism, racism, and sexism. In Joe Kidd, he sides with the exploited
Mexicans against the powerful, American capitalist. He also falls in love
with a liberated Hispanic woman. These are blatant declarations that
Eastwood’s notions of justice may be rooted in the Old Testament but he
is not the reactionary bogeyman whom some commentators describe.
In Joe Kidd. Eastwood is simultaneously reinforcing his famous reputa
tion and refining his image in the face of unpleasant inferences drawn
from it. He is neither a racist, a sexist, nor a fascist and many of his
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films, including Joe Kidd, contain explicit subtexts designed to counter
such accusations.
ii. High Plain? Drifter (1973)
High Plains Drifter is the first film to see Clint Eastwood combine
retribution with the otherworldly. Eleven years later he will return it to it in
Pale Rider which, although it resembles Drifter, expresses a markedly
different attitude toward society than the earlier film. While Joe Kidd be
gan a process of qualifying his image, Drifter dispelled any speculation
that Eastwood’s characters were softening. It is unquestionably his most
cynical film but certainly one of his most intriguing ones as well. It fea
tured another laconic, scruffy gunman resembling The Man with No
Name, yet under Eastwood’s direction the character departed signifi
cantly from Sergio Leone’s protagonist. The lack of humor and parody
in Eastwood’s film makes The Stranger far more troubling and ambiva
lent than The Man. Certainly he views society in a more jaded way. Le
one’s townspeople served merely as extras on a stage set for the titanic
battles between his larger-than-life gunfighters. In Drifter, the citizens of
Lago come center stage. It is they along with outlaws who are the targets
of The Stranger’s revenge. With Eastwood at his most misanthropic,
the film established a new low in Eastwood’s estimation of society. It
also introduced audiences to his fascination with things mythological,
baroque, and supernatural.
Eastwood has always favored a certain mysteriousness in the
characters he plays. He believes the less information given about them,
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the more intriguing audiences find them.1 High Plains Drifter, like its
hero, is shrouded in mystery. Materializing out of the desert’s rising heat
waves, The Stranger rides into the mining town of Lago. Eyed suspi
ciously by its residents, he is quickly challenged by three of the local
toughs. He responds by gunning them down. On his way to the stable
moments later, Callie Travers, the village beauty whose virtue is hardly
above reproach, confronts him. In a bit of perverse flirtation, she feigns
outrage with his appearance and behavior and showers him with insults.
After looking her over and wondering aloud “if your mouth is as big as
your feet, ma’am,” he drags her into the stable, throws her on the hay,
and violates her. Callie’s protestations are quickly replaced by moans
of ecstasy. No one comes to her rescue or chides the mysterious Stran
ger for his outrageous behavior.
The community’s reluctance to rush to Callie’s defense is indica
tive of its character. It is not simply a matter of physical weakness for a
lack of strength and fighting skill has traditionally characterized townsfolk
throughout the western’s history. Lago has a different problem, a moral
one. Greed, guilt, and cowardice have corrupted it. Lago is far worse
than the town in High Noon (1952), a film that High Plains Drifter
strongly resembles. In Hadleyville, no one came to assist Will Kane in
his impending showdown with Frank Miller’s gang. The battle was
Kane’s personally, not the town’s, and its citizens abandoned their friend
to face the killers alone. The people of Lago, however, are too fright
ened to come to their own defense. They are willing to pay for their pro-
1 Ric Gentry, “Director Clint Eastwood: Attention to Detail and Involve
ment with the Audience,” Millimeter December 1980: 129.
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tection but they lack the fortitude and gumption to take it upon them
selves.
Lago’s dark secret revolves around the tortuous death of its for
mer marshal, Jim Duncan. When he learned that Lago’s rich mine, the
economic foundation of the prosperous town, was illegally located on
federal land, he decided to report it to government officials. Before doing
so, however, he was openly murdered one night by the town’s hired
guns, Stacy Bridges and the Carlin brothers. As they bullwhipped Dun
can to death in the center of town, no one protested or came to his de
fense. Having conspired to perpetuate one crime and permitted the pub
lic commission of another, the townsfolk wallow in fear, suspicion, and
guilt.
Because outsiders pose potential threats to Lago’s security, they
are sent swiftly packing by the town's hired gunmen. Since The Stran
ger’s three victims were its latest bodyguards, Lago's leading citizens of
fer him the job of protecting them. They are particularly worried because
Bridges and the Carlins, whom the town railroaded into prison the previ
ous year, will soon be returning to wreak their revenge. Lago needs The
Stranger's protection and will pay handsomely for it. They give him
carte blanche to the town and all its resources. The Stranger accepts
the position and proceeds to use and abuse those resources arbitrarily
in humiliating nearly everyone in Lago. Gradually he turns neighbor
against neighbor. Having once heard him called their “guardian angel,"
the hosteler declares bitterly, “It couldn't have been worse if the Devil
hadn’ t ridden himself into Lago.”
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Fed up with The Stranger’s escalating degradations, several citi
zens plot to murder him while he sleeps in his hotel room. Not unexpect
edly, The Stranger turns the tables on them with dynamite and kills some
of the conspirators. With most of the hotel destroyed, he forces its owner
to evict the remaining guests. Sarah, the hosteler’s wife, whose re
sponse to The Stranger has been ambivalent from the start, contemp
tuously denounces his heartlessness. “I knew you were cruel but I
didn’t know how far you could go.” He replies, “ You still don’t,” and in
dicates with a smile that he will be sleeping in her bed that night. Once
in her bedroom, the woman seizes a pair of scissors and threatens to
protect her honor. Stretched out on the bed, The Stranger complains of
weariness and chides her for believing that she is desirable. Enraged by
his humiliating dismissal, Sarah charges, scissors in hand. The Stran
ger rebuffs her attack and after a moment of squirming denial, she is
soon surrendering passionately to him. Once again, a woman who is in
itially reluctant takes little time in finding this strong, mysterious man irre
sistible.
The next day, Bridges and the Carlins near Lago. To honor their
return, The Stranger has forced his hosts to paint the entire town red,
erect a banner welcoming home the desperadoes, and rename the town
Hell. To incite their tempers to fever pitch, he ambushes the trio and
shoots off Cole Carlin’s ear. The stage set, he then abandons Lago,
leaving its people to fend for themselves. Naturally, all efforts at self-de
fense fail miserably. The former bodyguards gallop into town, go on a
merciless killing spree, and set fire to several buildings. By nightfall, the
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burning town reflects its new name. Amid the apocalyptic flames, The
Stranger, borrowing a device from A Fistful of Dollars, signals his return
with blasts of dynamite. When Cole Carlin investigates, he dies as Jim
Duncan did, viciously whipped to death in the middle of town. The Stran
ger uses a second whip to strangle Dan Carlin. Finally, he shoots Stacy
Bridges who,while dying, cries out the story’s central question, “ who are
you?” The town decimated, its leaders humbled, and the killers dead,
The Stranger departs. As he passes the cemetery, Mordecai, a midget
whom The Stranger has befriended, is engraving Jim Duncan’s name
on a marker. He stops his horse and looks down. In saying farewell,
Mordecai explains, “ They say the dead don’t rest without a marker of
some kind .... I never did know your name." With a small smile, The
Stranger replies, “ Yes, you do,” and rides away, soon to disappear into
the shimmering desert heat from whence he came.
High Plains Drifter is Clint Eastwood’s most extreme expression of
judgment and retribution. For a body of work typified by vengeance, this
claim is no mean one. Retribution is at the very core of this film. The
Stranger’s every action is carefully calculated to humiliate and punish
the town. For example, his anonymous ambush of Bridges and the Car
lins is designed solely to direct and intensify their rage. Methodically and
heartlessly, he enacts Jim Duncan’s curse, "Damn you to Hell!” upon
the cowards who acquiesced to his brutal murder. With its new name,
red paint, fiery glow, social disharmony, and incessant punishment, Lago
has become the living Hell of Duncan’s curse.
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All of this has occurred through The Stranger's omniscient mani
pulation of people and events. Shortly after the early shootings, Lago’s
bumbling sheriff visits him. In a folksy manner, he informs the Stranger
that his victims were hardly popular and no one in town will mourn their
passing. In short, charges will not be brought against him. ‘“Forgive and
Forget’ that’s our motto,” the chuckling sheriff reassures him. Ironically,
nothing could be farther from The Stranger’s credo. Springing as it does
from an absence of grace, his entire mission of chaos and ruination is
intended to punish Lago for its sins. What makes this vision especially
bleak is that no opportunity for redemption exists: only sin, judgment,
and punishment are operative. There is no second chance.
Beginning with the opening shot, the story’s eerie otherworldli
ness is evident. As the film progresses, it becomes clear that The Stran
ger and the murdered marshal are linked in some ominous way. Com
posed and quiet during his prolonged ride into town, he reacts only to
the crack of a passing teamster’s bullwhip. Later in bed, he dreams of
Jim Duncan’s suffering as if it were his own. The whip reappears dramat
ically as The Stranger’s weapon of choice during his execution of the
Carlins. Finally, when speaking to Mordecai at the graveyard, he con
firms his identity as the vengeful spirit of the dead marshal.
The Stranger also demonstrates an invincibility and omniscience
characteristic of a being from another dimension. Once, without seeing
the man, he warns a disgruntled teamster not to draw his knife just as he
begins to do so. His foiling the hotel murder conspiracy indicates an un
canny knowledge of the plotters’ intentions. Quite simply, he totally con
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trols the chain of events in this morality tale of supernatural retribution.
Pronounced references and comparisons to the otherworldly are inter
spersed throughout the film as well. Sometimes The Stranger is tabbed
a “ guardian angel” while at others he is called “ the Devil.” And then
there is the fundamental theme that “ the dead don’t rest without a
marker of some kind." This penchant for the horrific runs throughout
Eastwood’s oeuvre with High Plains Drifter as his most obvious foray into
the realm of the supernatural. Pale Rider is another notable example as
is “ Vanessa in the Garden” (1985), an episode Eastwood directed for the
Amazing Stories television series. His taste for the horrific and the ba
roque is evidenced as early as Plav Mistv for Me and weaves its way
through such policiers as Sudden Impact (1983) and Tightrope (1984).
None of these, however, surpasses Hioh Plains Drifter’s disturbing vision
of the supernatural as an unmerciful agency of revenge and retribution.
Along with the horrific, a cynical misanthropy permeates High
Plains Drifter. As director, Eastwood took The Man with No Name, relin
quished his humorous detachment, and transformed him into a far more
bitter avenger than Leone’s hero. His enemies are no longer simply so
ciety’s predators. Now society itself has become morally reprehensible
and hence targeted for severe punishment. Once again, cowardice and
social irresponsibility stand out as the cardinal sins in the Eastwood cat
echism. Dirtv Harrv railed against the absence of courage and commit
ment on the part of government. Drifter finds such laxity in the people
themselves. Like other Eastwood characters, The Stranger functions
within society but distances himself from it. The new wrinkle he intro
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duces is his refusal to remain indifferent, to distance himself from soci
ety’s immorality. In a perversion of Christian mythology, The Stranger
takes upon himself the sins of Lago not to bring about persons’ salvation
but rather their destruction. In High Plains Drifter, he turns upon Lago as
a Calvinist judge, exacting his pound of flesh for the corruption which fes
ters at its very grass roots.
High Plains Drifter further solidified Eastwood’s reputation for
playing violent, mysterious loners--hard men who arrive from and disap
pear into the unknown. Of few words, they likewise show little mercy
toward the cowardly and wicked. Drifter’s relentless Stranger surely
ranks as the most ambivalent of Eastwood’s characters. While he has no
monopoly on excessive violence, he does lack that black humor which
typically diffuses the tension Eastwood’s bloodlettings generate. What
saves The Stranger from total condemnation is his superiority to nearly
everyone else in the film. Compared to Lago’s hypocrites, The Stranger
stands out as a moral force. What he represents is Old Testament jus
tice, retribution heaped upon the wicked through the intervention of a
supernatural agent. Despite his heartlessness, The Stranger is not a ni
hilist. Very clearly, he believes in taking a moral stand and sticking by it
when confronted with evil. To surrender, to acquiesce to it Is for The
Stranger, and for all Eastwood characters, the unpardonable transgres
sion.2
2 Richard Grenier, “ The World’s Favorite Movie Star," Commentary
April 1984: 64-65.
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Along with others, Patrick McGilligan has traced the parallels be
tween the private lives of stars and the types of roles they play.3 Chang
ing patterns in film portrayals can mirror shifts in the actor’s personal
interests, values, and attitudes. Certainly there is no hard and fast rule
applicable to all stars, but this theory does provide useful hypotheses for
considering Clint Eastwood’s career. The prevailing mystery surrounding
the actor since the Leone trilogy resounds throughout High Plains
Drifter. As well as the film’s central question, “ who are you?” is also the
fundamental problem facing critics when they endeavor to make sense of
this international superstar. At this point in his career, he remains elu
sive. Notions about what he values and opposes are beginning to take
shape but deeper insights into the man himself remain beyond “ all the
picklocks of biographers.” 4 Mystery, violence, and self-sufficiency shine
through most clearly, but the extent to which he balances these with con
structive social behavior is far from clear.
Judging from High Plains Drifter. Eastwood’s pessimistic view of
human beings is admittedly unsettling. Certainly it is the most cynical de
piction of society in his oeuvre. Perhaps it is best to see it as an exten
sion of Harry Callahan’s impatience with a social formation which toler
ates the intolerable, shuns responsibility for its problems, and refuses to
act decisively to solve them. Such a society ultimately deserves the lead
ership it gets. While Dirtv Harry berates that leadership for its failure to
3 Patrick McGilligan. Cagney: The Actor as Auteur (South Brunswick
and New York: A. S. Barnes and Co., 1975) 180-196.
4 Stephen Vincent Benet, John Brown’s Body f Garden City, New York:
Doubleday, Doran and Co., Inc., 1929: 195.
serve and protect the people, High Plains Drifter goes after the people
for their lack of vigilance and courage in protecting themselves. As con
servative texts, their popularity during the Seventies’ reflects a growing
frustration with social deviance and lapsed responsibility. Liberal critics,
however, did not see Eastwood and his embittered characters in quite
such heroic terms. For them, his rugged individualism, Calvinist severity,
and detached misanthropy too often expressed and fostered the danger
ous, volatile spirit of the vigilante. Ironically, it took the return of Harry
Callahan to temper Eastwood’s controversial reputation.
III. Magnum Force (1973)
What most distinguishes Maanum Force from Dirtv Harrv is its ob
vious attempt to soften the more controversial implications of the original.
By speaking directly to them, the sequel endeavored to counter those
unpleasant charges that Harry is a fascist and the personification of a
“might-makes-right, ends-justify-the-means” mentality. Magnum Force
sought to sweeten Dirtv Harry’s bitter aftertaste while simultaneously
meeting audience expectations for the same kind of exciting action and
sardonic humor which made the first film so popular.
Harry returns as the same tough, street-wise professional whose
success usually results from unorthodox methods and no reluctance to
employ violence. While he is still the same uncompromising individual
ist whom audiences loved in the first film, Harry comes across as a more
well-rounded character than in Dirtv Harrv. He is not the same driven
man who pursued Scorpio so relentlessly. Relieved of that earlier obses
siveness, he reveals a fondness for other people, spends time with wo
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men, and defends the legal system against efforts to undermine it. What
has not changed is his intense contempt for cowardice, inefficiency, and
lawlessness: for bureaucrats on the one hand, and hoodlums on the
other. Harry has not necessarily softened. He is rather a man who can
now cope with the paradoxes and contradictions of his job far better than
he could the first time around. This makes for a more sympathetic, a
more multi-faceted character, one not nearly as morally ambivalent as in
his debut.
When a legal technicality overturns mobster Carmine Ricca’s mur
der conviction, an angry mob attacks his car in front of the courthouse.
Harry Callahan’s bitter frustration with the judicial system has now be
come a widespread public sentiment. Responding to this intense anger
along with the troublesome implications of Dirtv Harrv. Magnum Force
serves as a cautionary tale about the necessity of due process and the
inherent dangers of vigilantism. The film’s structure closely follows its
predecessor’s. It too opens with the commission of a brutal murder. Its
victim, however, is Ricca, a gangster rather than an innocent citizen.
Shortly after it leaves the courthouse, Ricca’s limousine is stopped by a
motorcycle policeman, ostensibly for a minor traffic violation. Suddenly
the officer draws his .357 Magnum and fires at Ricca and the others from
point blank range. Seeing that there are no survivors, he holsters his
gun, calmly mounts his motorcycle, and rides away.
Investigating the crime, Harry and his partner, Early Smith, imme
diately encounter resistance from his superiors, particularly Lt. Briggs.
Admonishing Harry for his violent reputation, Briggs proudly reminds him
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that throughout his long career in law enforcement, he has never once
had to draw his gun. Harry responds with a typical insult, “ Well, a good
man always knows his limitations.” This memorable line will function in
much the same way as Dirty Harry’s famous “do you feel lucky?" litany.
He will repeat it during a later confrontation with Briggs and again at the
film’s conclusion. Disgusted with Harry’s insolence and propensity for
violence, Briggs keeps him off the case and occupied with a robbery de
tail.
Following Ricca’s killing and his bout with bureaucracy, Harry in
terrupts his lunch to foil a major felony. This time, instead of a gunfight
with bank robbers, Harry shoots it out with two airplane hijackers. That
evening at headquarters, he runs into an old friend on the force, Char
ley McCoy. The latter, a motorcycle cop, is especially agitated. He rails
against the justice system’s protection of criminals and punishment of
police. On the verge of a nervous breakdown, his home life in shambles,
Charley roars away into the night. At the firing range, Harry meets four
rookie policeman. Polite and respectful toward Harry, all are crack shots
with their .357 Magnums. The next day, a gangster’s swimming party
becomes a bloodbath when a motorcycle cop flings a bomb into the
pool and sprays its survivors with a machine gun.
Concerned about the mental state of Charlie McCoy, Harry visits
his estranged wife and family. After dinner, Mrs. McCoy approaches
Harry romantically but they are interrupted by a call from Early Smith.
He needs Harry's help at a grocery store stake out. Harry arrives and in
helping to thwart a robbery attempt, kills two of the suspects. After
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wards, a young policeman confesses that he was unable to fire his
weapon during the shootout. Knowing that such hesitancy endangered
his own life, Harry responds with his typical disdain. Eying a frightened
woman nearby, he scornfully advises the shaken cop, “ Why don't you
help the lady?”
After several more underworld figures are murdered, Harry dis
covers that the four rookie policemen are responsible for these summary
executions. One night, they corner Harry and invite him to join them.
“ We’re simply ridding society of killers that would be caught and sen
tenced anyway if our courts worked properly," they explain. “It’s not just
a question of whether or not to use violence. There simply is no other
way, Inspector. You of all people should understand that.” Harry’s an
swer, “I'm afraid you’ve misjudged me,” is aimed at Eastwood’s critics
as well. Certainly Harry believes that violence has a place, an entirely
appropriate one at times, but certainly within the context of law enforce
ment. He shares neither the death squad’s radical rejection of due pro
cess nor is he the vigilante whom some have described. This self-reflex
ive comment is among the central messages of Maanum Force. Despite
his idiosyncrasies, Harry Callahan and Clint Eastwood should not be un
derstood as wild-eyed fascists. To make this point abundantly clear, the
inspector’s rejection of vigilantism will be reiterated during the climax.
Realizing that his knowledge of the vigilantes’ identity makes him
a likely target, Harry retreats to his apartment. In his mailbox, he discov
ers a booby trap. His partner, Early Smith, is not so lucky. He is killed by
a bomb as he collects his mail. Harry calls Lt. Briggs and informs him
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that he has uncovered a departmental conspiracy. Briggs orders Harry to
remain where he is, that he will personally come and furnish the protec
tion he needs. Waiting in the darkened room with gun in hand, Harry for
the first time reveals a genuine apprehensiveness. It is a further indica
tion that the Harry Callahan of Maanum Force is a more human and hu
mane character than he was in Dirtv Harrv.
Briggs arrives, examines the time bomb Harry found in his mail
box, and taking it with them, the two men drive off. Once on the road, the
lieutenant draws a gun and informs Harry that he is the mastermind be
hind the death squad. Two important points arise during their discus
sion. Briggs explains that his is an agency of retribution, exchanging
“ evil for evil,” against society’s predators. Recalling San Francisco’s
early history, Briggs sees himself as a modern vigilante, a moral man
implementing justice because the judicial system has failed. After de
stroying the notorious criminals, his organization will then eliminate
anyone who poses “ a threat to the people.” For a man who once threw
his badge away in disgust, Harry responds with far more moderation
than might be expected. He admits his hatred for the legal system but re
affirms his faith in it “until something better comes along.” He readily
foresees that Briggs’ anarchical path will ultimately lead to neighbor
killing neighbor over the slightest affront.
Second, Briggs informs Harry that his sort is about to become ex
tinct. This not only refers to his impending death. It also introduces a
theme that will reappear often in Eastwood’s films. Characterized as an
anachronism whose methods and values are out of step with contempo
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rary sensibilities, Harry’s ideology is attacked as hopelessly obsolete.
This is more than a simple clash of subcultures as Lt. McElroy de
scribed in Coogan's Bluff. Here the values by which Harry lives are dis
missed as impractical and irrelevant. He answers his critics in Magnum
Force as he did in the first film, by demonstrating the efficaciousness of
his style and what he represents. They may not endure; Harry may in
deed be of a dying breed; but that is society’s loss. It needs men with
his dedication, strength, and moral commitment. In Eastwood’s subse
quent films, the ideological struggle between his characters and a so
ciety which perceives them as anachronistic becomes a reoccurring
subtext. It should come as no surprise that the resolution to this cultural
contradiction favors his heroes and perpetuates the legitimacy of certain
patriarchal values in the face of a world which is increasingly hostile to
them.
Through experience and courage, Harry manages to outmaneuver
the renegade police and destroy their organization. In the final scene, a
battered Briggs covers him with a gun. He explains how Harry will be
blamed for all the murders: “ You’re a killer, Harry, a maniac It’s
your word against mine.” As the inspector watches Briggs drive away,
the bomb originally intended for Harry and which he had secretly acti
vated, explodes within Briggs’ car. Eastwood delivers the same slight,
sardonic smile that greeted Ramon’s death in Joe Kidd. Watching the
burning car, he comments wryly a final time, “ A man’s got to know his
limitations.” Harry walks off as he did at the close of first film. This time,
however, the disillusionment so evident at the end of Dirtv Harrv has
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subsided. Ironically, the same legal system which was targeted for its
insensitivity and inefficiency remains in tact due to the efforts of one of its
major critics. The film reaches a bittersweet compromise: the criminal
justice system with its many problems remains superior to any replace
ment whose only sure promise is expediency.
Women in Magnum Force figure in Harry’s life as they did not in
Dirty Harrv. Without his obsession for destroying Scorpio, he has more
time for them. The pattern set in earlier Eastwood films continues. His
character remains passive; women pursue him. Charlie’s ex-wife be
gins to seduce Harry while Sunny, his Japanese-American neighbor,
wonders, “ What does a girl have to do to go to bed with you?” Matter-of-
factly, Harry responds, “ Try knocking on the door.” Eventually they be
come casual lovers but their relationship remains peripheral to Harry’s
case. As before, Harry Callahan is about stopping criminals; romantic
liaisons are pleasant enough but establishing and nurturing them are not
among Harry’s priorities.
While attempting to recreate the physical excitement and defiant
charm which earned Harry Callahan his huge following, Maanum Force
also sought to qualify and humanize its character. It endeavored to lift the
fascist label from Eastwood’s image. Along with denouncing vigilantism,
it also went out of its way to refute charges of racism leveled against
Eastwood. He surrounds himself with non-white actors when the plot
dictates that their characters could just as easily be white. Partner Early
Smith is black while his girlfriend Sunny is Asian-American. Harry ridi
cules liberal platitudes and toes a hard line against criminals, but his
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conservatism is free of racism. No gender or race is without its heroes
and villains and Harry, as all Eastwood characters, “ judges a man by the
content of his character and not by the color of his skin.” 5 For the in
spector, bleeding hearts, incompetents, and criminals, like good neigh
bors, come in all colors and in either sex.
One very influential critic placed little stock in the film’s efforts to
temper the negative implications of Dirtv Harrv.6 Pauline Kael saw Har
ry’s rejection of vigilante justice as merely a bone thrown to civil libertari
ans. The bottom line for Kael was the sequel’s repetition of emotion
less, amoral violence. It continued to perpetuate violence for violence
sake; Harry’s dominance does not spring from his moral superiority as
in traditional melodrama, but from sheer professional skill and experi
ence. Despite the film’s efforts to diminish his trigger-happy, lawless
image, the critic found Eastwood to be the same staid, adroit killer he in
troduced in the Leone trilogy. If nothing else, the vociferousness of
Kael’s attack did testify to Eastwood's power to play the part so convinc
ingly. His total believability as the tough, taciturn cop only underscored
the difficulty audiences, and critics, were having in distinguishing the
man and from his image. In fact, Kael’s review exemplifies this very con
6 This is among the most famous lines from Martin Luther King, Jr.’s
historic “I Have a Dream Speech” delivered on the steps of the Lincoln
Memorial, August 28, 1963. With its emphasis upon the individual, char
acter, and competence, Dr. King’s prescription describes Eastwood’s
position on gender as well as race and is clearly discernible throughout
his oeuvre.
6 Pauline Kael, “Killing Time,” New Yorker 14 January 1974: 84, 87-
89.
133
fusion. Her use of "Harry Callahan” and “ Clint Eastwood” become inter
changeable. Harry is Clint and Clint Harry. It was not only Callahan who
exemplified amorality, insensitivity, and a penchant for killing. Eastwood
was inadvertently described the same way.
IV. Thunderbolt and Liahtfoot (1974)
Between Hiah Plains Drifter and Maanum Force. Clint Eastwood
directed Breezy (1973) , a small, intimate film starring William Holden
and Kay Lenz as lovers in a May-September romance. Believing he was
too young for the part, Eastwood cast Holden as Frank Harmon, a fiftyish
cynic, whose appreciation for life is renewed through his relationship with
the younger woman. While Eastwood’s casting may have lessened the
film artistically, it probably would have increased its earning power. It
could not have hurt for the film died very quickly at the box office. Blam
ing its failure on another of Universal’s poor marketing campaigns, an
angry Eastwood resolved to forego any future business with that studio.7
In anv case. Breezy contributes more to an understanding Eastwood's
ideology than it does to making sense of his star image. Accordingly, it
will be discussed in a later chapter. Suffice to say at this point that the
film further awakened the critical establishment to Eastwood’s develop
ment. as a director. Certainly Breezy was no tour de force, but for many
commentators it revealed an unexpected gentleness and sensitivity not
generally associated with this violent screen superhero.
7 Frangois Guerif, Clint Eastwood, trans. Lisa Nesselson (New York:
St. Martin’s Press, 1984) 114.
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On the face of it, Thunderbolt and Liahtfoot seems to be an unas
suming, innocuous diversion for Clint Eastwood. Examined within the
context of his career, however, it is a pivotal film because it introduces
dimensions of setting and sensibility which subsequent films will amplify.
Several of these will become important factors in making sense of the
actor’s ideological significance and popularity. What makes the work
additionally interesting is its series of firsts. Most obviously, Thunder
bolt represents an auspicious directorial debut for Michael Cimino.
Eastwood has given many young filmmakers their big opportunities and
among them, Cimino has undoubtedly become the most successful and
controversial.
Second, not since Kellv's Heroes has broad comedy pervaded
an Eastwood film. Most comic moments in his films feature black, gal
lows humor or insulting one-liners, but in Thunderbolt and Liqhtfoot the
humor occasionally becomes farcical. It also introduces a new kind of
Eastwood character, a harbinger of quieter, less violent roles to come.
His fists still make him a “big hitter” when necessary but Eastwood’s John
“Thunderbolt” Doherty is not easily provoked. Nor is he driven by re
venge. Finally, and of major ideological importance, this is the first East
wood film which outwardly reflects the white working class ethos of the
contemporary American West.
Having fun with his image is nothing unusual for Eastwood and
self-deprecation runs throughout the film. The opening scene finds him
dressed as a minister, his face bespeckled and his hair plastered. These
accouterments play against his handsome tough guy image while later
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his cheap, ill-fitting sports shirt mocks the gracefulness of his trim, muscu
lar body. Thunderbolt’s comic climate is reminiscent of Kellv’s Heroes’
and Eastwood reacts throughout it in much the same way. As the belea
guered straight man, Eastwood grimaced, rolled his eyes, and squinted
in disbelief at the craziness of Oddball and Crap Game’s wheeler-deal
ing. In Thunderbolt, he is again the surprised observer, continually
taken off-guard by the audacious foolishness of Jeff Bridges’ Lightfoot.
In leaving the hamming to others, Eastwood reveals a reluctance to
take too broad a comic turn himself. Preferring simply to react to rather
than to indulge in such shenanigans, he further solidified a pattern which
continues throughout his career. Many of his films are infused with farce
but Eastwood will seldom play the clown himself. He will enjoy it but will
seldom become its instigator.
Eastwood does not abandon his tough guy image in Thunderbolt
but he does begin to forge a new variation of it. While he is no less for
midable and self-assured than previously, Eastwood is more low-key,
more content to lean back and allow his young friend Lightfoot to carry
the ball. When he first appears, Eastwood fills a rural pulpit in the un
likely ministerial garb. His self-conscious, deadpan preaching suggests
Eastwood’s delight in the scene’s obvious incongruity. When a vengeful
ex-partner bursts into the service and opens fire at the good pastor, the
latter hastily abandons the cloth and flees for his life. Henceforth, his
costume alternates between a white T-shirt and the ugly, short-sleeved
shirt which he never tucks into his faded polished cot tons. This is a far
cry from Dave Garver’s stylish Carmel fashions, Harry Callahan’s coat
136
and tie, or even the distinctive poncho of The Man with No Name. What
is surprising about this Eastwood character is his ordinariness. From ap
pearances, he epitomizes a quiet, everyday sort with the bearing, out
look, and aspirations shared by millions of working men who live in the
small towns of the American West.
Thunderbolt lacks the towering presence of earlier Eastwood
heroes but shares their knowledge, experience, and competence. His
speciality is blowing safes with a powerful military canon. In contrast to
Thunderbolt, there is Lightfoot--young, audacious, and full of bravado.
Lightfoot’s life is a series of physical thrills ranging from stealing cars and
locating willing women, to bragging about his exploits and convincing
John and his associates to repeat their most famous bank caper. Light
foot has dreams but they are strictly material ones. Owning a new, white
Cadillac convertible is as good as it gets for him. Older and wiser, Thun
derbolt has already been there. He enjoys Lightfoot’s exuberant sponta
neity but enjoys an insight into life that the younger man lacks. Al
though a bank robber, he is not vicious or sadistic like his old war buddy
and former partner, Red Leary. For the first time, Clint Eastwood is clearly
a criminal but within the context of the film, he is not the kind of nasty
crook whom Harry Callahan would pursue.
That is because Thunderbolt and Liahtfoot is really a bittersweet
comedy. It combines elements of the buddy film, the caper film, and
enough mild slapstick to establish a sensibility that is far more permis
sive than that of the serious crime film. It is really the first of Clint East
wood’s “ good ole boy” pictures. It is a genre since made famous by
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Eastwood’s good friend Burt Reynolds and its prototype is Smokey and
the Bandit (1977). Several important elements characterize these films.
First of all, they joyously celebrate patriarchal masculinity and the maxi
mization of individual freedom and self-determination. In spite of their
unabashed sexism and expressions of freedom which border on license,
all is presented as good, clean, exciting fun. Two important reoccurring
symbols are the open road (the realm of limitless possibility and adven
ture) and the powerful car (the means of exercising one’s freedom, es
caping responsibility, and demonstrating one’s dominance). Freedom
for self-determination and self-fulfillment is coupled with the freedom
from the everyday domestic responsibilities and financial restrictions
which limit most people’s options. This is a man’s world where he is in
control and lives life on his own terms happily, dramatically, and suc
cessfully.
In opposition to that freedom is restrictive authority. It may take the
form of convention and propriety but its two most tangible manifestations
are police and bosses. Good ole boys outfox the cops, outrace them,
and generally reduce them to frustrated, irate clowns. Bosses and oth
ers with economic power are often overbearing, foolish, and/or corrupt.
Authority in any form becomes eligible for the insults and practical jokes
that are handed out by the lovable, outrageous heroes. Thunderbolt and
Lightfoot may be criminals but the genre is decidedly stacked in their
favor. Within the conventions of the “ good old boy” genre, their behav
ior inspires a perverse appreciation and serves as an obvious outlet and
expression for working class antagonism and resentment. Against the
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dull fools and stuffed shirts of established order and decorum, the boys
become heroes. Their lawlessness takes on a charming, exuberant re
belliousness while their joyous freedom perpetuates the hope that self-
determination still exists today as a viable possibility.
License, if not licentiousness, is also appropriate for describing
the heroes’ relationships with women. Sexuality is essentially a game,
a recreation. Lightfoot has no trouble meeting attractive women and
bringing them to his motel to meet Thunderbolt. The latter is somewhat
dumbfounded by the ease with which his partner locates “ dates,” the
quickness and casualness with which sex occurs, and the madcap an
tics that develop afterwards. Although delightful at times, women are
dangerous because they represent spiritual castration. Interaction with
them risks eventual commitment, a subsequent loss of freedom, and,
hence, the forfeiture of manhood. Women represent those perpetually
ambivalent dimensions of home and family which can undermine the
mythology of the open road with its promise of adventure, excitement,
and romance. The really non-threatening relationships are between
men, buddies who travel together, stick by each other, and share a
close camaraderie. Despite their desirability and tenderness, women
are best kept at a safe distance emotionally for the sake of preserving a
man’s freedom, self-determination, and masculinity.
Such sexist attitudes are mollified by making the women every bit
as superficial and sexually interested as the men. The heroes’ friends at
the motel are no more concerned about meaningful relationships than
they are. Gloria, Thunderbolt’s partner, is anxious to climax quickly and
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be on her way. Later, when the two men need money to finance their
intricate bank robbery, they take temporary jobs. Lightfoot’s toil on a
landscaping crew is lessened appreciably by the daily appearance of a
customer’s wife. Much to his delight, she enjoys parading her nude body
seductively in front of the French doors. Later, a teen-age girl and her
boyfriend are surprised in the throes of passion by Thunderbolt and
Leary. Women are ready, willing, and pliable, as anxious to be bedded
as men are to bed them, and without interjecting such sobering issues
as love, respect, and commitment.
Thunderbolt and Liahtfoot. despite its problematic celebration of
working class male fantasies, redeems itself with a telling portrayal of an
authentic friendship. For one of the first times, an Eastwood character
cares deeply about another person. He is not as fiercely independent
as usual. When Lightfoot dies at the conclusion, Thunderbolt genuinely
grieves. In contrast, Harry Callahan never allows himself to become too
attached to his partners. Most other Eastwood characters also keep
their distance, maintaining physical and emotional independence as a
matter of course. This film reveals an emerging crack in the Eastwood
persona’s hardened, detached countenance. For all the cynical disdain
for society, he is becoming more sociable, less jaded, and disinclined
toward gunplay. In Thunderbolt. Eastwood is far more relaxed. When
pushed, he will assert his physical dominance but his style is basically
easygoing and mellow. A trend that was developing in Maanum Force
has continued with this film. Eastwood maintains his patriarchal profile
but his character is becoming increasingly well-rounded, less compul-
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sive, and more sociable than previous incarnations. In doing so, Thun
derbolt anticipates an important dimension of the actor’s persona which
Philo Beddoe and Eastwood’s other good ole boys will later embellish.
V. The Eiger Sanction (1975)
John “ Thunderbolt” Doherty introduced the western working class
facet to Clint Eastwood’s screen persona. At the social spectrum’s
other end is art history professor Jonathan Hemlock. Cultured, stylish
but not stiffly refined, Dr. Hemlock’s passion is his collection of paintings
by the great masters. What distinguishes Hemlock from other academ
ics is his violent, clandestine background. Along with service as a spe
cial operations commando in Southeast Asia, Hemlock’s record includes
considerable experience as a professional assassin for American intelli
gence. Hemlock has financed his collection by performing “sanctions,”
governmental jargon for its contract killings. He has also made discreet
use of diplomatic channels to smuggle the works into the United States.
Connoisseur, combat veteran, and retired hit man, Hemlock is also a
world class mountain climber. With this character, Eastwood has
jumped from the boots and beer of good ole boys to the flashy opulence
and international intrigue of James Bond.
In adapting Trevanian’s popular espionage novel, the screen
writers modified its protagonist to conform to Eastwood’s image.8 Their
revamped character closely resembles Harry Callahan. Like Harry, Hem
lock is a tough, aggressive man equally skilled with fists and guns. He
8 lain Johnstone. The-Man with No Name: The Biography of Clint
Eastwood (New York: Morrow Quill Paperbacks, 1981) 109.
141
also shares Harry’s impatience with fools and corrupt bureaucrats. An
early scene in The Eiger Sanction resounds with familiar Eastwoodian
turns. Returning to his office after class, Hemlock finds Pope waiting for
him. An especially obnoxious intelligence agent, Pope heckles the pro
fessor and informs him that C-2, his former employer, requires his ser
vices in an important sanction. Claiming he is now retired, Hemlock re
fuses and tells the agent to leave. Pope disregards the order and con
tinues his pestering. With the steely squint, gritted teeth, and low, men
acing voice so typical of Eastwood’s Harry, Hemlock growls, ‘Through
the window or through the door. It’s your choice.” Pope calls his bluff
and reiterates that “my superior wants to see you.” Sharing Harry’s
love for the insulting bon mot, Hemlock deadpans sarcastically, ‘Your
superior? That doesn’t narrow the field very much.” Moments later, he
flings Pope out of his office. As his coat follows, Hemlock quips, “Don’t
forget your trench coat. How’s anyone going to recognize you without
your disguise?”
The Eiger Sanction finds Hemlock a changed man from the pro
fessional assassin he once was. Reluctantly, he performs the sanction
only to protect himself when blackmailed by Dragon, the repulsive di
rector of C-2. Yet even then, his victim is an unsavory assassin presum
ably in the pay of the Soviets. That, and the fact that his target murdered
Hemlock's old friend, Henri Bach, deflates much of Hemlock's moral dis
comfort surrounding the sanction. Revenge directed against a despic
able enemy and the fact that it is not done in cold blood also softens the
moral implications of Hemlock’s backsliding into to his old profession.
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Upon its completion, C-2 demands of Jonathan that he perform
one final assignment. Its location is the treacherous north face of Switz
erland’s Eiger Mountain. Hemlock is to join an international mountain
eering expedition, identify a foreign agent among the trio of his fellow
climbers, and assassinate him. Hemlock agrees to undertake the Eiger
sanction for that most common of Eastwoodian motives, revenge. He
learns from Dragon that the intended victim was also involved in Henri
Bach’s death. While determined to avenge Bach’s murder, Hemlock
cannot resist eliciting Dragon’s guarantee that he will be granted im
munity from tax evasion and smuggling. He also extracts an exorbitant
fee from the intelligence chief, mostly for the perverse pleasure of watch
ing the hideous intelligence chief squirm.
Like Harry, Hemlock dislikes authority, its hypocrisy, and the moral
compromises to which it acquiesces. Dragon is totally unprincipled. He
heads an espionage enterprise whose array of machinations, sanctions,
and retaliations Hemlock has grown to despise. Rather than sticking
with the “ system” as Harry does, Hemlock has opted out of it altogether.
Surveying his future, Hemlock is a pragmatist. Realizing that assassins
become expendable once they outgrow their usefulness, he has cho
sen to retire before that time arrives. Also, out of a maturing moral sensi
bility, Hemlock has become increasingly repulsed by the intelligence
community’s dirty tricks.
Paralleling this commentary on the espionage enterprise, The
Eiger Sanction protests Clint Eastwood’s infamous reputation as an
amoral killing machine. In much the same way that Lt. Briggs treats
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Harry Callahan, Dragon perceives Hemlock as little more than a highly
efficient gunman, a one-dimensional man defined by killing. By telling
Hemlock “it’s what you do best,” Dragon speaks for many of Eastwood’s
critics, including Pauline Kael. In Maanum Force. Harry counters such
reductionist views when he informs the rogue cops, "I'm afraid you’ve
misjudged me.” Under Eastwood’s direction, The Eiaer Sanction aims to
refute that same simplistic notion. Nowhere is this more apparent than
during the film’s conclusion. As an exhausted Hemlock recovers from
the harrowing assault of the Eiger, he receives a call from Dragon. None
of his fellow climbers turned out to be an enemy agent yet all three died
accidentally during the aborted climb. Only Hemlock survived and only
because a rescue team reached him at the last moment. After Dragon
assures Hemlock that he will be paid, he offers congratulations on his
unorthodox style. He cannot help but savor the professor’s draconian
thoroughness in killing all three men so as to eliminate any possibility
of not getting the right one.
Irked by Dragon’s cynical delight, Hemlock hangs up only to
hear his girlfriend, Jemima Brown, coyly inquire whether he did in fact
“sanction all three.” Hemlock’s blank stare reveals his disbelief and
disgust in learning that even those closest to him suspect him of such
coldbloodedness. It is also Eastwood’s response to those who view his
characters as so jaded that they would rarely balk at such unconscion
able behavior. Certainly Clint Eastwood’s reputation lies with his tough
anti-heroes, but they should not be dismissed as nihilists. While they
depart from certain conventions about what constitutes a traditional
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hero, they nevertheless remain highly principled men, unorthodox but
deeply faithful to the dictates of their personal moral code.
This in no way diminishes the accuracy of Ben Bowman’s descrip
tion of Hemlock. Ben tells his friend, “ Johnnie, down deep you’ve got
the makings of a real badass.” Like so many Eastwood characters, he
can be especially violent when provoked or when hot on a course of re
venge. Twice in Sanction he brutally beats a would-be assailant, throt
tling each by his collar while growling deadly threats through his
clinched teeth. When old nemesis Myles Mellaugh decides to settle
their feud, Hemlock thwarts his attack and maroons Myles in the desert to
die of thirst and exposure. As is so often the case in Eastwood’s films,
justice is weighed and meted out by the vengeful hero himself. In the
end, Jonathan Hemlock can be every bit as “dirty” as Harry Callahan,
perhaps even more so; but he, like Harry, intuitively determines the de
mands of justice in a given situation. Not surprisingly, what he deems ap
propriate is generally informed by the Old Testaments’s fundamental
principle of retribution, “ an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.”
C-2 agent Jemima Brown is only one of the women Hemlock en
counters. What she shares with the others is a willingness to use sexu
ality for ulterior motives. An attractive co-ed in Hemlock’s class proposes
that she and her professor enjoy a romantic evening in exchange for a
better grade. George, Hemlock’s beautiful Indian running partner, offers
him her voluptuous body so she can get close enough to drug him. A
climber’s wife endeavors to add Jonathan to her lengthening list of fam
ous bedpartners. And Jemima sleeps with him initially in order to pilfer
145
the tax clearance and money Dragon gave him in exchange for the first
sanction. When she returns later to apologize and affirm her genuine
caring, a hurt and betrayed Hemlock turns her away. In disgust, he con
demns himself and her for their involvement with C-2. He calls himself a
“ selfish killer,” performing Dragon’s dirty work merely to finance his art
collection. Likewise, he claims that her willingness to sleep with him on
Dragon’s orders makes her nothing more than a “ patriotic whore.” Je
mima eventually convinces Jonathan that she cares for him deeply but
she is the film’s only woman who surpasses deceit and manipulation.
To describe The Eiaer Sanction as a misogynist film, however,
misses the film’s generic context. In this world, neither women nor men
can be trusted. Everyone is potentially dangerous and no one is really
who or what they seem. Little wonder that Hemlock would choose to
abandon this world. On the surface, Sanction is a suspenseful spy
thriller but on another level it interrogates the immorality of the espionage
enterprise. Deception, retribution, and murder are its staples. Following
conventions made popular by the James Bond series, it provides a daz
zling display of beautiful women, breathtaking scenery, thrilling action,
and a life style set among the rich and famous. Where The Eiger Sanc
tion surpasses the Bond series, however, is in its attempts to interrogate
the underlying moral assumptions of the genre. The film is not a full
blown assault, of course, for it remains fundamentally an action picture.
Yet for all its beauty and glamour it does present an unenviable world
whose sensibility if not its stylistic approximates film noir.
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As the film closes, Jonathan Hemlock is left wondering about his
world’s moral deprivation. In spite of his characters’ violence, they and
the man who portrays them has revealed himself to be, surprisingly per
haps, a moralist. Throughout the film, he has condemned the absence of
integrity, trust, and commitment in human relationships. He has also
reflected upon his own image and addressed what he regards as popu
lar misconceptions about him. On screen, Clint Eastwood remains patri
archy’s traditional masculine sex role model-strong, dominant, fiercely
independent--but hardly the amoral killer critics have described. In his
next film, he both perpetuates that image and qualifies it. While main
taining the importance of self-sufficiency, Eastwood begins his rediscov
ery and reaffirmation of community, albeit a very select and intentional
one.
VI. The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976)
Frangois Guerif has called The Outlaw Josev Wales “ a film of re
conciliation .. . between the misanthrope and his fellow man.” 9 If Clint
Eastwood had directed this film immediately after High Plains Drifter,
then the reconciliation of which Guerif speaks would be far more drama
tic than is actually warranted. He is quite right in his assertion that Josev
Wales is Eastwood’s strongest interrogation to date of anti-social individ
ualism. Yet taken in relation to those films between Drifter and Josey
Wales, the latter proceeds naturally from the more humane, less self-suf-
9 Guerif 119.
147
ficient resonances which appear in Magnum Force. Thunderbolt and
.UflhtfCLQl, and The Eiger Sanction.
What distinguishes The Outlaw Josev Wales is Eastwood’s fash
ioning several classical western motifs so as to express concerns which
appear genuinely very personal. Within the tapestry of the western,
Eastwood reveals his changing attitudes toward that most basic contra
diction of the genre, the tense relationship between individual freedom
and social responsibility.1 0 It represents his own journey from playing the
distant, socially aloof individual to affirming the possibility for harmony
between people and the role community can play in fostering the indi
vidual’s growth and enrichment.
The most obvious difference between Josey Wales and earlier
Eastwood western heroes is the inclusion of Josey’s background. While
he is every bit as formidable, he lacks a mysterious past. He is far better
understood than his predecessors. The motivation for this hero, however,
remains the same as for earlier incarnations. He is driven by revenge.
As a peaceful Missouri farmer during the Civil War, his world is destroyed
one day when marauding Kansas Redlegs under Captain Terrill burn his
home and murder his family. He alone manages to survive and then
only because he is left for dead, the scarred victim of Terrill’s sword. Af
ter regaining consciousness, he buries his wife and son. As he recites
“ ashes to ashes . . he weeps, a screen first for Eastwood but his tears
are those of rage as well as sorrow. Among the smoldering ruins of the
1 0 Will Wriaht. Six Guns and Society: A Structural Study of The West
ern (Berkeley, Los Angles, and London: University of California Press,
1975) 136-138.
farmhouse, Josey uncovers his holstered revolver. He practices firing it
again and again. Bullet after bullet strikes the fence post. By the time he
is finished, his marksmanship and his hatred for the Union and Terrill are
finely honed.
Attired in an uncharacteristically rumpled coat and floppy hat,
Josey sits slumped beside his family’s grave. From the woods, a band of
ragtag Confederate guerrillas rides slowly toward him. They stop and
look down knowingly on the mourning man. Ascertaining the work of
Redlegs, their leader speaks. "Anderson’s the name. ‘Bloody Bill’s’
what they call me . . . .We’re goin’ up there to set things right.” Josey
responds, “I’ll be going with you.” It is here that Eastwood begins devel
oping a hero in that classic mold of the genre’s mythology, the good bad
man. Once wronged but now indomitable, he is famous for his strength
and skill. Vacillating between fame and infamy, Wales stands as an in
vincible titan, a man triumphant even when vastly outnumbered. Yet
around him an aura of sorrow lingers, distancing him from others. Wales
guards against anyone getting too close to him emotionally. When I
get to liking someone,” he laments later, “ they aren’t around very long.”
He is a deadly man yet a good man, a larger than life loner forever
brooding over his heart’s emptiness. He is truly a romantic hero.
With Josey’s decision to join Bloody Bill, the film’s credits begin.
They appear against a montage of monochrome footage which bears a
striking resemblance to Matthew Brady’s Civil War stills. A subtle pro
gression of Josey’s development from recruit to veteran irregular can
be traced through these shots. Initially, he appears wearing his floppy
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farmer’s hat and ragged coat while firing a single pistol. Soon he sports
one in each hand and the rustic clothes have disappeared. During the
final credit, Wales wears a stylish hat, a gray frock coat, and arms himself
with at least four revolvers. By the time the final black and white footage
has slowly dissolved into muted color, Josey Wales looks and carries
himself with the authority expected of an Eastwood hero. He is every bit
the feared guerrilla fighter, a man whose reputation for deadly gunplay
is widespread along the bloody Kansas-Missouri border.
Throughout the film, director Eastwood underscores Josey’s stat
ure as a hero of mythological proportions. It becomes most apparent in
his extraordinary accomplishments and in the ways others speak about
him. The apprehensiveness with which Wales is described emanates as
much from awe as it does fear. Fletcher, whom Josey believes has
treacherously betrayed him, informs the Union authorities that Wales is
the only guerrilla in Anderson’s troop who refuses to surrender now that
the war is over. He advises them to “ let him be,” that they should aban
don any notion of capturing this dangerous soldier turned outlaw. When
they refuse, Fletcher derides their naivete in believing that “Captain ‘Red
legs’ Terrill and five men” can capture Josey. Having fought beside him,
Fletcher is fully aware of Wales’ cunning and prowess with a gun. He
also understands the man’s immense bitterness and how strongly re
venge motivates him. “ A man like Wales,” Fletcher tells them, "lives by
the feud." It is a description which characterizes nearly all of Eastwood’s
heroes and the way in which the director handles this issue provides
one of the film’s most interesting developments.
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The extent of Josey’s reputation becomes apparent as he flees
into the Indian Nations ahead of Terrill’s pursuing Redlegs. At a country
store, Granny Hawkins chuckles upon his arrival, “ They say you’re a
hard footin’, desperate man Josey Wales.” Admiring him, she mocks
such talk and sends him on his way with medicine for his injured com
panion, Jaime. Other reactions to his spreading fame are not so ami
able. While Wales is tending Jaime’s wounds, two men appear out of
the bushes and capture him. Seeking the large reward on Josey’s head,
Abe and lige show as much excitement as fear by their chance encoun
ter with the “ big pistol fighter.” “ We got us the Josey Wales!. . . I seen
him ride side by side with Bloody Bill himself!” Lige shouts nervously.
And as his partner approaches to disarm the silent outlaw, he anxiously
warns, “ Watch it, Abe! I seen him do some things.. . . He’s meaner than
a rattler and twice as fast with them pistols.” Later, Josey visits a trading
post to buy some horses. While he enjoys a drink, two grizzled mountain
men recognize the outlaw and manage to get the drop on him. “Mr.
Chain Blue Lightnin’ hisself,” one of them gleams, “ the one everyone is
scared of!" Finally, when Terrill and his posse ride into a town, they find
four of Josey’s latest victims about to be buried. Terrill quips, “Not a hard
man to follow. Leaves dead men wherever he goes.” These statements
render Josey Wales a legendary character, a throwback to the good bad
man of the mythological Old West, a man set apart from others by his su
perhuman skill and his troubled past.
No previous Eastwood hero lacks a biting sense of humor and
Wales certainly has his. Like his predecessors, Josey is a man of few
151
words, communicating often through gestures and glances. His predomi
nant one is the disgusting habit of spitting tobacco juice. This usually
precedes a gun battle and signals that Josey is about to draw his pistols.
The most memorable instances occur, however, when he spits directly
upon someone of something to express his contempt for them. Insects
and a ubiquitous dog are frequent targets but it is most effective when it
accentuates those callous one-liners which have long been an Eastwood
trademark.
For example, when an elixir peddler singles him out for a sales
pitch, Josey inquires whether the cure-all “is good for everything.” Antici
pating a sale, the smiling drummer confirms its versatility. Calmly Josey
unleashes a spray of sticky, brown fluid on the man’s white coat and
asks, “how’s it with stains?” More contemptuous is his treatment of Abe
and Lige. With Jaime’s help, Josey foils their hopes for a large reward by
shooting them. In preparing to ride away, a thoughtful Jaime looks
down on the dying men and laments, “I wish we had time to bury them
fellas.” Josey counters disdainfully by splattering Abe’s face with tobacco
juice. “Hell with those fellas,” he mutters, “ buzzards gotta eat, same as
worms.” Finally, when Josey turns the tables on the mountain men at the
trading post, he kills both of them. After a moment of silence, he holsters
his guns and casually deadpans to the terrified clerk, “ Now, let's see.
You say those horses belong to them there pilgrims, huh?" As he strolls
out, he spits derisively on a victim’s forehead. This is typical Eastwood
ian humor--whimsical, insensitive, and black-accentuated by a gro
tesque gesture befitting its callousness.
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When Jaime succumbs to his wounds, Josey continues on into the
Indian Nations by himself. There he meets an elderly Cherokee, Lone
Waite, a member of one of “ the civilized tribes.” Like Josey, Lone Waite
is a social outcast. His ancestral lands appropriated and his wife a vic
tim of “ The Trail of Tears,” Lone Waite shares Josey’s hatred for the
Union. ‘The white man,” he claims, “has been sneaking up on us for
years.” Lone convinces Josey to travel through Texas to Mexico. There
he can join General Shelby’s Confederate troops who have refused to
surrender. Lone plans to enlist as well and intends to accompany Josey.
The outlaw reluctantly agrees and visits a trading post for fresh horses.
It is there that he escapes capture by dispatching the mountain men. By
killing these scurrilous trappers, Josey defends himself and prevents
their raping a young Indian woman. An exile from her Navajo people,
Moonlight is yet another pariah. Feeling indebted to Josey, she decides
she now “belongs” to him and will henceforth ride beside him. Josey
objects, "I don’t want nobody belonging to me,” but Lone persuades him
to allow the woman to travel with them. When he learns Waite’s hound is
also coming, a resigned Josey simply spits on the dog and grumbles,
“might as well ride along with us. Everyone else is.”
Despite his efforts to preserve his detachment, the bonds of com
munity are forcing themselves on Josey Wales. Lone and Moonlight are
naturally drawn to him and for his part Josey is somewhat bewildered by
his willingness to have them around. Within the heart of this deadly gun
man there remains an indelible commitment to stand by the innocent
and the oppressed. As much as he minimizes his feelings for others,
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their strength becomes evident in the risks he takes to protect them. This
film is really about a wronged but decent man whose inability to eradi
cate his caring for others proves his salvation. Ironically, those very
people whom Josey rescues reciprocate by reawakening within him a
potential for love which the brutality of war had all but extinguished.
Soon the trio adds two more members. When Josey destroys a
despicable band of Commancheros, he rescues a young woman and her
feisty grandmother. Having traveled from Kansas, Laura Lee and
Granny are headed toward the ranch left them by Laura Lee’s late fa
ther. What began as the story of a lone rider’s vengeance has expanded
to explore that most classic of western themes, the notion of new begin
nings in a new land. Granny epitomizes that vision when she describes
the beauty and bounty of her new home when in fact she has never
been there. It represents for her what America and particularly its West
has traditionally signified, the chance to start over, the opportunity to re
alize the dream of a better life. As a man whose dreams were shat
tered by the war, Josey doubts the possibility of Granny’s coming true.
Nevertheless, he leads them through Indian country to Santa Rio, the
closest town to the fabled ranch.
Once a thriving boom town, Santa Rio is now home to only a few
peaceful diehards who spend their days sitting around a liquorless sa
loon. Their spirits arise, however, when the travelers arrive and Josey
surprises them with a case of Commanchero whiskey. In words befitting
Josey Wales throughout the film, Kelly, the delighted bartender shouts,
“ An angel of mercy come to Santa Rio!” Graciously the townspeople vol
154
unteer to lead them to the deserted ranch near Blood Butte. Upon ar
riving, Granny discovers it to be everything she has envisioned. Even
Josey seems mildly impressed. With everyone, including the dog, doing
their part, the ranch begins to function successfully as a closely knit, in
tentional community.
Lone Waite tells Josey that Granny wants the ranch to be their
home, to belong to everyone, and asks him to stay with them. The old
Indian ventures that the Union may eventually forget about him. Still
steeped in vengeance, a saddened Josey confesses “ there ain’t no for-
gettin’.” Neither he nor Terrill's posse will let matters remain unresolved.
They will continue their pursuit and for his part he refuses to allow his
score with the Redlegs and with Fletcher to go unsettled. His reluctance
to stay also has something to do with Laura Lee. She is awakening
within him those feelings of love and tenderness which in the past have
only led to intense suffering. By leaving now, Josey hopes to protect
himself from the vulnerability to pain which emotional intimacy invariably
brings. Not willing to risk having his life shattered again, he plans to
move on.
The ranch’s tranquility is suddenly threatened when the neighbor
ing Comanches under Chief Ten Bears threaten to overrun the ranch. In
explaining his defense strategy, Josey delivers the first of the film’s two
inspirational speeches. It is also certainly among the most significant
in Eastwood’s oeuvre and serves as the credo underlying the gutsy per
severance integral to is screen persona. “ When things look bad,” he
tells the settlers, “ and it looks like you’re not going to make it, then
155
you’ve got to get mean. I mean plumb mad dog mean. Because it you
lose your head and give up then you neither live nor win. That’s just the
way it is.” This tough-mindedness typifies nearly every Eastwood charac
ter and explains in part why they manage to overcome extreme hard
ships in defeating formidable adversaries. As a variation on the sensi
bility of “ a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,” it reflects as well East
wood’s personal view that persons in crises must reach deep within
themselves to discover the necessary strength to prevail. “You’ve got to,"
he says, “ outlast yourself.” 1 1
Before the Comanches attack, Josey rides out to meet Ten Bears.
It is here that he delivers his second significant speech. Josey describes
the bond of suffering and rage that binds them. “Dying is not hard for
men like us who have seen everything they cared about raped and
butchered.. . . It’s living that’s hard.... What I’m saying is that men can
live together without butchering one another.” Impressed by Josey’s
sincerity and courage, Ten Bears agrees that men can trust one another
even if governments cannot. He accepts Josey’s offer for life rather than
death. This idealistic exchange between the two warriors insures the
safety of the ranch and dramatically confirms Josey’s changing disposi
tion. Clearly he cares enough about his community to acknowledge its
worth and the importance of its survival. Whether he is emotionally
ready to join it remains questionable, however, for his past continues to
haunt him.
1 1 Norman Mailer, “ All the Pirates and People,” Parade 23 October
1983: 6.
Josey’s reluctance becomes readily apparent after the commu
nity celebrates the peace with Ten Bears. Entertaining their friends from
Santa Rio, the settlers sing and dance into the night. Later, Josey and
Laura Lee make love for the first time but he is jolted by the recurring
nightmare of his family’s slaughter. Early the next morning, Josey pre
pares to leave. Lone Waite urges him to stay but Josey believes his past
prevents him from beginning again. “ Trouble just follows a man. I’ve
been here too long,” he tells Lone. Riding out into the dawn, he finds
Captain Terrill and the Redlegs posse waiting for him. Hopelesssly out
numbered, Josey nevertheless prepares to do battle but to his surprise,
and Terrill’s, rifles emerge from the ranch house windows. During the en
suing battle, Josey is wounded in the side. Yet with the help of Lone,
Granny, and the others, all the Redlegs save their captain are slain.
Josey pursues Terrill to Santa Rio, tracks him to a stable, and exacts his
revenge with the same sword that scarred his face years before.
Exhausted and oozing blood, Josey enters the saloon to find
his friends Ten Spot, Rose, and Kelly. The gambler is recounting the
details of a recent gun battle he witnessed in Mexico. Listening also are
two Texas Rangers and a third stranger. It seems Ten Spot and Rose
watched five pistoleros shoot it out with an outlaw named Josey Wales.
Startled by Josey’s untimely entrance, Kelly endeavors to protect him
with greetings of “Mr. Wilson!” and “ Morning, Mr. Wilson.” Seated with
the lawmen is Fletcher, whom Josey mistakenly believes betrayed An
derson’s guerrillas to the Union. After a tense moment of silence, Rose
and Ten Spot finish their graphic account of Josey Wales’ death. “ Then
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Josey Wales is dead?” asks one of the Rangers. “He is dead. He sure
is dead. Dead, all right,” Rose reiterates while watching her silent
friend. Accepting the fabricated report of Wales’ demise, the Rangers
complete their affidavits and exit the saloon. Fletcher, who has ex
changed knowing looks with Josey throughout the discussion, follows
them out. As the Rangers ride away, he tells the apprehensive towns
people that he doubts their account of Wales’ death. When questioned
why, he paraphrases his earlier estimation of the wanted man’s prow
ess. Addressing his old comrade, he remarks, “I don’ t believe no five
pistoleros could do in Josey Wales.” The latter follows Fletcher into the
street, giving every indication that the two men are on the verge of a final
showdown.
As Rose and her two friends await a confrontation, Fletcher an
nounces that since he believes Wales is still alive, he intends “ to go
down to Mexico to try to find him.” “ And then?" asks Josey. Walking
toward him, Fletcher explains, “ The first move is his. I owe him that. I
think I’ll try to tell him the war is over. . . . What do you say, Mr. Wilson?”
Josey eyes him pensively and finally answers, “I reckon so. I guess we
all died a little in that damn war.” Josey slowly mounts his horse and gal
lops out of Santa Rio. Standing in the street, Fletcher stares after him.
His expression conveys the respect, the awe, in which he holds this man
whose titanic strength of body and spirit has enabled him to triumph over
such incredible odds. Sighing in relief that it is over, that Wales has relin
quished the feud, Fletcher walks to his horse. The film closes with Josey
158
riding into the sunrise, seemingly headed toward the ranch near Blood
Butte.
With its decisive affirmation of Josey's rebirth, this final scene is
an extremely important one. It reveals the culmination of his painful pas
sage from death to life, from shunning relationships for the sake of self
protection to rediscovering intimacy, meaning, and happiness within a
caring community. Having killed the murderer of his family, he enters
the saloon in time to overhear accounts of his own death. Three times
Rose confirms it and in a very real sense she is right. The outlaw Josey
Wales, the “man who lives by the feud,” exists no longer, having been
replaced by one with a different agenda.
The most compelling evidence of Josey’s redemption appears in
his reaction to his former comrade. While it is clear to the audience that
Fletcher did not betray him, Josey has no reason to doubt it. Yet Fletcher
does not attempt to explain what really happened. He only acknowl
edges his respect and empathy for Wales and admits he “ owes him the
first move.” Given his perspective, Josey can only believe Fletcher is
admitting his guilt. But Fletcher adds that Josey should put the hatred
and killing behind him. Significantly, he calls him “Mr. Wilson” to indicate
his belief that Josey Wales can overcome the pain of the past and begin
life anew.
Josey’s response is threefold. First of all, his decision not to kill
Fletcher, as he undoubtedly would have earlier, reveals that Josey has
undergone a fundamental transformation. He still believes he was
double-crossed but he chooses to forsake revenge and concentrate on
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the future. This is very different from a scenario in which the final revela
tion of truth causes former adversaries to bury the hatchet. Because this
does not happen, Josey’s act of reconciliation is that much more pro
found. Second, Josey agrees with Fletcher that “ the war is over,” that
“ we all died a little in that war.” This admission indicates the tremendous
broadening in his outlook on life. Previously, Josey’s entire orientation
sprang from his conviction that everything with any personal meaning
died during the war. Now, he sees that he “died a little,” that his life can
count for more than grief and revenge. That in no way diminishes the
devastation of losing his family. It does, however, echo his agreement
with Ten Bears to deemphasize the horrors of the past and look toward
a future where men can live together harmoniously “ without butchering
one another.”
' Josey’s final response to Fletcher finds him returning to the com
munity which has instigated his rebirth. Twice he is rescued by people
whom he cautiously befriended earlier. The settlers help defeat the Red
legs and that same morning the townspeople shield him from arrest by
Texas Rangers. In each instance, Josey’s rescuers risk themselves for
no other reason than because they care for him deeply. This fact seri
ously interrogates the notion of the totally independent, self-sufficient in
dividual. Community, for all its weaknesses and potentialities for suffo
cation, can be a nurturing, positive force. Without it, Josey Wales
would not survive and without his strength the community too might well
have perished. What is resolved here is that difficult contradiction be
tween individual freedom and social responsibility. What makes The
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Outlaw Josev Wales truly a classical western is Eastwood’s decision to
use Josey’s strength for the protection and improvement of the commu
nity. He in turn is saved from isolation and estrangement through his as
sociation with Laura Lee, Lone Waite, and the others.
As he rides away from Santa Rio, Josey does so with the reali
zation that nothing stands in the way of a new life. The posse no longer
exists and the law considers him dead. The film’s final shot is a freeze
frame of Josey galloping into the early morning sun. Does he return to
the ranch? Eastwood believes that although it is not depicted, the audi
ence “ wills him back.” 1 2 More important, however, is that final frame
pictures Josey riding not into the traditional closing sunset but rather
into the bright sunrise of a new day. The West is reaffirmed as a land of
new beginnings where past miseries are left behind, old hatreds forgot
ten, and dreams can be pursued and discovered.
The Outlaw Josev Wales is an extremely significant film in Clint
Eastwood’s career. Not only did it further humanize a persona once
thought unflappable and distant, it also revealed Eastwood to be a film
maker of far more sensitivity and skill than heretofore acknowledged.
During the next decade, he will continue as a reigning box office super-
star and gain critical distinction as a serious auteur, “ an American icon,”
and as a cultural artifact of major importance. Josev Wales confirmed in
a significant way Eastwood’s penchant for the self-reflexiveness which
began to emerge in Joe Kidd. Magnum Force. Thunderbolt and Liahtfoot
and The Eiaer Sanction. In varying degrees, each qualified and/or inter
rogated the patriarchal and reactionary elements often associated with
1 2 Gentry 129-130.
161
his image. For all they did to bolster the viability of the traditional mascu
line sex-role model, these films introduced an undercurrent of self-inter
rogation which would eventually lead to critical acclamation. It was the
beginning of Eastwood’s uncanny ability to have it both ways, to main
tain his popularity with mutually exclusive constituencies. On the one
hand, a mass audience experiences through him the defense and vali
dation of a besieged ideology; while on the other, a critical establish
ment appreciates him for its interrogation. It is a dynamic that becomes
far more evident in Eastwood’s later work but its beginnings can already
be found in his films of the early Seventies.
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Chapter Six
Clint Eastwood: The Image (III)
I. Introduction
With Clint Eastwood’s persona and popularity firmly established
by 1976, the task of critically discussing his subsequent films can be ad
dressed most profitably by placing them within an intertextual context.
Approaching Eastwood’s films after The Outlaw Josev Wales as varia
tions on, departures from, and interrogations of that image opens his
work to a depth and richness that might otherwise go unappreciated.
While they are certainly accessible from other critical perspectives, ana
lyzing these texts as reflections on his image leads to those central is
sues of Clint Eastwood’s popularity and the ideological functions that he
as a unit of meaning performs. This is because Eastwood’s image is so
powerfully efficacious in accentuating deeply felt cultural concerns and
contradictions.
By the mid-Seventies, Clint Eastwood signified very traditional
notions of American masculinity and hard-line solutions to social prob
lems. Like John Wayne’s before him, Eastwood’s roles perpetuated the
self-sufficient individualism so pervasive in America’s mythological past.
While this certainly explains much of his box office success, it accounts
as well for Eastwood’s becoming a favorite whipping boy of many critics.
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Considering those values personified by Eastwood as dangerously an
achronistic, his detractors viewed them as consistent with a reactionary
sensibility fostering patriarchy (sexism), glorifying physical strength and
dominance (fascism), and promoting emotional insensitivity (social indif
ference).
Ironically, a close reading of most of Eastwood’s films, especially
within the context of intertextuality reveals quite the opposite. This occurs
primarily through those increasingly diverse roles that contrast markedly
with those which made him famous. The actor/director denies selecting
his properties explicitly for their value as meditations on his image.1 He
admits to being drawn to interesting stories yet once into production,
there invariably emerges within each a subtext of self-consciousness.
So powerful have been those previous roles in establishing his image
that they cannot be neglected. Neither can the controversy which sur
rounds them be overlooked. As ubiquitous givens, he addresses these
meanings in each role. And in every one he deals to some extent with
this deepening pool of residual meaning. Repeatedly during these sub
sequent films, Eastwood is expanding, parodying, or critiquing what has
gone before, whether it be his tough guy image or the controversy it has
provoked.
This chapter begins the examination of Clint Eastwood's image
between 1976 and 1988. As in previous chapters, analysis will look at
his films as meditations upon the actor’s persona and the ideological
work his image performs. Since that image evolved out of that seminal
Main Johnstone. The"Man with No Name: The Biography of Clint East
wood (New York: Morrow Quill Paperbacks, 1981) 116.
164
core of films which appeared between 1964 and 1976, these subse
quent films will be weighed against the earlier ones to demonstrate how
Eastwood’s significance has changed over the years. In this way, the
earlier films function as a textual basis upon which to compare and con
trast this more recent work. One very obvious development paralleling
Eastwood’s career has been the gradual recognition within the critical
community of the actor/director’s importance as a social phenomenon as
well as a filmmaker. These commentaries together with his films provide
an interesting trail that leads eventually to Eastwood’s ideological signifi
cance and popularity. This chapter sets out upon that trail by examining
and integrating both textual sources in hopes of eventually arriving at
just such a comprehensive understanding of Clint Eastwood.
II- The Enforcer f19761
The public’s identification of Clint Eastwood with Inspector Harry
Callahan has been a double-edged sword for the actor. Certainly the in
ternational popularity of this no-nonsense cop has contributed im
mensely to his fame and fortune yet the violence and political implica
tions surrounding this character have engulfed Eastwood in a wave of
controversy. Magnum Force attempted to deflate much of that tension
by qualifying the more intense aspects of Harry’s personality while fore
going none of his skill, humor, and dominance. The Enforcer endeavors
to do much the same thing. Maanum Force did its best to counter accu
sations of racism and fascism against Harry. The Enforcer addresses
the question of sexism.
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Harry Callahan has been chastised as the prototype of patriar
chal ideology, the champion of white, male, heterosexual domination.2
In The Enforcer, the inspector revives three familiar challenges which he
encountered previously in the film’s predecessors. First, Harry resumes
his running battle with his superiors over procedures and priorities. The
hard-nosed Harry repeatedly finds their decisions springing from political
expedience, personal ambition, and an incompetence bordering on stu
pidity. At one point he becomes so incensed with officialdom’s self-serv
ing gamesmanship that he resigns. Second, Harry once again has his
hands full identifying and tracking down vicious murderers. This time a
radical terrorist gang has kidnapped San Francisco’s mayor and is hold
ing him for ransom.
Harry’s final problem is the frustrating task of breaking in an inex-
erienced partner. His indignation peaks when he learns that the novice
also happens to be a woman. As Harry struggles through this and the
other challenges, he reinforces his reputation as the invincible, incorrupt
ible enforcer of summary justice. Simultaneously, however, his patriar
chal attitudes toward the equality of women, particularly as police offi
cers, shows signs of cracking. As Harry’s consciousness is raised in the
only manner it could be, through first-hand experience, his image as an
oppressive social reactionary is softened to a degree. In other words,
The Enforcer, like Maanum Force before it, attempts to have it both
ways. Harry’s popular toughness and violent efficiency remain in tact
but he is saved from foolish inflexibility by his willingness to change with
2 Joan Mellan. Big Bad Wolves: Masculinity in the American Film
(New York: Pantheon Books, 1977) 294-301.
166
the times when his experience proves that such accommodation is justi
fied.
When first encountered, Harry seems no less “ dirty” than before.
Summoned by the frantic maitre d' of a swank restaurant, he and part
ner Frank “Fatso” Digorgio rush to the aid of a customer who has col
lapsed, ostensibly from a heart attack. Harry begins by shaking the man
and then proceeds to drag him by his tie through the dining room,
through the front door, and onto the sidewalk. Recognizing the victim as
a noted grifter whose dramatic “ seizures” conveniently follow expensive
meals, Harry sends him on his way with a kick in the pants. The film’s
structure follows very closely the one established in Dirtv Harrv. After a
minor incident reveals his experience, competence, and defiant humor,
Harry single-handedly thwarts a major felony. This time he dispatches
three nasty thugs who have bungled a liquor store robbery and in des
peration have taken hostages to shield themselves from the encircling
police. In an attempt to bargain for the captives, Harry volunteers to meet
with them. They respond by spread-eagling him on the floor, showering
him with abuse, and issuing demands for a getaway car.
Harry’s final humiliation occurs when a criminal shoves him out
the door with a foot to his backside. Once safely behind the police lines,
an incensed Harry holsters his .44 Magnum, takes the wheel of a car,
and frantically crashes it through the liquor store window. During the
ensuing confusion, he guns down the thugs, the last of whom Harry
deliberately shoots between the legs during his escape attempt up a
flight of stairs. Such seemingly wanton brutality points to Harry’s per
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verse sense of humor, the persistence of revenge as a motivational force,
and his willingness to dispense summary justice when the opportunity
warrants. He also cannot yet explain to himself or to others “ what makes
a man crazy enough to join the cops.” At this point in the film, Harry Cal
lahan of The Enforcer is much the same as he was in Dirtv Harrv and
Magnum Force.
For “ this Wild West sort of thing,” Harry receives an official repri
mand from his fussy superior, Captain McKay. This career police depart
ment administrator typifies a common antagonist of Harry and other East
wood heroes. Having never experienced the life-or-death situations of
his profession, he nevertheless endeavors to oversee and instruct the
seasoned veteran in the ways of his job. Captain McKay, as a prototype
of the foolish, inexperienced superior, is an alloy of ignorance and
power. His judgment follows theories and procedures that defy the good
sense of everyday experience. His meddling complicates problems
rather than leads to their solutions. Add to this his political and career
ambitions and Harry finds himself fighting a rear guard action as well as
the one against hardened street criminals.
McKay’s displeasure with Harry’s latest heroics reflects his pen
chant for budgetary matters (the damages to the liquor store) and for the
sticky political fallout this bloody shootout might generate. Harry’s
barbed retorts about the priority of hostage lives get him nowhere except
a swift transfer out of homicide and into personnel. Harry’s first assign
ment is to serve on a review board interviewing prospective candidates
for inspector positions. Arriving late, he grumbles his way through an
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introduction to Ms. Gray, an official from the mayor’s office. They take an
instant dislike to one another especially when she announces San Fran
cisco is anxious to begin “winnowing the Neanderthals out of the depart
ment” in an effort to bring its policies into “ the mainstream of twentieth
century thought.” The reference to Harry is quite obvious. Once again he
is painted as an anachronism, a man whose methods and values seem
antiquated, draconian, and unenlightened. It is a theme first suggested
in Dirty Harrv by the district attorney and later amplified, yet from a de
cidedly different perspective, by the vigilante leader of Magnum Force. Lt.
Briggs.
Seen by many as a man hopelessly out of touch with contempo
rary sensibilities, Harry remains a rugged individualist. An integral sub
text of Eastwood’s Callahan series is the ideological struggle between
Harry and those authorities who have rejected what he signifies. Alone
and under attack, he nevertheless remains doggedly committed to those
values arising out of his experience. While his actions appear to arise in
tuitively, it is an intuition grounded in surviving life’s harsher realities.
Because Harry invariably triumphs, these films argue for the strength and
relevance of those values he represents. Simultaneously, however, there
is the clear recognition that in the end they remain Harry’s alone. He
has destroyed the villains but the rear guard battle over philosophy and
methods continues with Harry firmly entrenched in the minority position.
One such battle emerges during the personnel meeting. Accord
ing to Ms. Gray, the mayor is anxious to see women promoted at every
level of police work. A skeptical Harry finds “Mrs. Gray’s” proposals
169
“very stylish.” What finally tries Harry’s limited patience is the candi
dacy of Officer Kate Moore for inspector. Upon learning that she has
spent her entire career in administration without making so much as one
felony arrest, Harry explodes. Invoking a common criticism of affirmative
action programs, he blisters a policy that would promote an inexperi
enced woman ahead of men whose years on the beat make them far
more qualified for the position. Harry also doubts her capacity to mea
sure up to the physical and emotional demands of the job. And on a
very personal level, he would have little confidence in Moore if faced
with a dangerous predicament. Her inexperience might lead to some
one, such as himself, being killed, “a hell of a price to pay,” Harry
snarls, “for being stylish.” Not content to close with that, he goes on to
insult “Mrs. Gray,” ridicule the entire promotion process, and denounce
the panel's ignorance of the harsh realities of law enforcement. Once
again, Harry’s first-hand experience and knowledge is pitted against
what he considers administrative naivete and political maneuvering.
During Harry’s stay at personnel, a radical terrorist group call-ing
itself the People’s Revolutionary Strike Force raids a military arsenal,
loads a stolen truck with weapons, and kills three people. Among the
victims is Harry’s old partner, Frank Digorgio. True to the tradition of
Eastwood’s heroes, Harry again assumes the role of avenging angel.
What started as a professional matter has become a personal one. As
he relentlessly pursued Scorpio in Dirtv Harrv , so too will he track down
Digorgio’s killers. When “Big Ed” Mustapha, a militant black leader, tips
Harry to the terrorists’ identities, he whispers coldly, “Callahan, do ’em
170
in.” Following one of the series’ most popular precedents, Harry an
swers with a phrase that will reappear at the film’s conclusion. “Oh, you
can count on that,” he assures Mustapha. Predictably, its repetition
during the climactic shootout underscores Harry’s intention of exacting
his revenge in no uncertain terms.
Transferring Harry back to homicide, McKay introduces him to his
new partner, Kate Moore. Throughout the film Harry remains at war with
the villains and with his superiors, but he gradually overcomes his prej
udice against Moore. At first, his attitude is a grudging one. Her initial
ineptitude and inexperience exasperate him. Yet whenever he attempts
to shield her from the nastier details of homicide, Moore responds with
bravado, “ don’t concern yourself, Inspector,” and follows Harry into the
fray. Proving herself a fast learner, Moore soon wins his professional re
spect and personal admiration. “ Whoever draws you as a partner could
do a hellava lot worse,” he confesses to her. That settled, she works as
Harry’s equal to defeat the terrorists and rescue the mayor.
Harry’s misgivings are allayed when Kate demonstrates her cour
age and professionalism under fire. Twice she saves his life, the second
time sacrificing herself to save him. Kate’s death, however, in no way di
minishes her competence. Sexism as an issue is never raised again af
ter Harry’s initial misgivings. Kate proves herself a true professional but
for Harry the question is resolved not by philosophical argument but
rather by first-hand experience. Individual competence takes prece
dence over gender. Harry’s standard is performance and his attitude
toward women in the police force echoes that toward homosexuals in
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Maanum Force. When someone muses over the possibility that the four
young officers might be gay, Harry counters, “I wouldn’t care if the whole
department was queer if they could shoot like those guys.” The individ
ual’s merit remains Harry’s measuring stick. Her character and compe
tence remain central.
As Harry grows to appreciate Kate’s worthiness, an implicit renun
ciation of sexist stereotyping seems apparent. Yet on the whole the issue
is never really addressed. How this specific experience may exemplify
or generate a general principle goes unaddressed. Harry may well re
main quite sexist by seeing Moore’s success as simply an anomaly, a
rare exception to conventional feminine weakness. This point remains
an open one. Basically Harry is not interested in such intellectual discus
sions. A simple, straightforward man, Harry is unlikely to abstract a gen
eral ideological truth from this experience. His is a more practical world
where precepts and perceptions arise from everyday hard knocks.
These shape him and form the relations out of which he lives. While
Harry undergoes some consciousness raising in this film, the challenge
to patriarchy represented by Kate Moore’s success is hardly an issue for
him. What remains essential to Harry is his commitment to seeing justice
done. Categories of gender, race, and sexual orientation arise occasion
ally but are secondary to the specifics of competence and character, par
ticularly when it comes to evaluating persons and solving cases.
The feminist critique of patriarchy is addressed in The Enforcer
much as it will be in later Eastwood films. Whether it be Harry Callahan
or subsequent characters, Eastwood refuses to reshape his masculinity
172
along lines specified by feminism. His characters become more emo
tional and demonstrate an increased sensitivity toward others but they
do not surrender their self-determination, physical strength, or their
power to dominant others when it is necessary. Eastwood’s response to
the feminist challenge is not to alter radically his image but rather to cre
ate women who are every bit as resilient and capable as his men. On the
other hand, this affirmation of equality recognizes the potentiality in wo
men for destructiveness every bit as deadly as that of their male counter
parts. Liberation offers the possibilities for greater self-fulfillment and so
cial contribution yet it also allows for the commission of greater evil.
There is nothing in Eastwood’s films to suggest that women are distinc
tively blessed with an intrinsic quality which would ensure their stature as
heroic characters or diminish their capacity for becoming despicable vil
lains. To repeat, the value of the individual person, whether male of fe
male, is central for Eastwood and his films reflect this privileging of cer
tain values for all human beings regardless of gender.
Harry Callahan will disappear for seven years. Between The En
forcer and Sudden Impact (1983), Clint Eastwood’s roles will include an
assortment of characters whose reserve, omniscience, and superiority
fall short of the towering Harry. They perpetuate his physical hardiness,
his uncompromising self-determination, and his dogged persistence in
the pursuit of personal goals. Where these characters differ significantly
from Harry, however, is in their faulty judgment. Even beyond his daz
zling gunplay and courageous deeds, Harry’s stellar virtue is his infalli
bility. Always being right enables him to ride roughshod over pre-
173
scribed procedures and become the revered hero instead of the rogue
cop which misjudgment would undoubtedly paint him. These later East
wood characters lack such wisdom. They make mistakes. They allow
emotions to cloud their decisions, they trust persons who later betray
them, and their assessments of situations often prove nearly disastrous.
Only the hardened criminal Frank Morris in Escape from Alcatraz comes
close to matching Harry, albeit on the other side of the law.
The subtext of Eastwood’s self-interrogation runs throughout
these films. In the face of a reputation for rugged individualism and self-
reliance, Eastwood’s characters reveal a need and enjoyment of commu
nity which defies his loner image and makes him far more vulnerable.
When this is coupled with the tendency toward misjudgment, Eastwood’s
persona is enriched with a healthy normality that may detract from his
superheroism but certainly endears him with the characteristics of an ap
pealing Everyman. The limits to which Eastwood can stretch his image
and still maintain his popularity are always tense ones. After The Enfor
cer. Eastwood leaves the invincible Harry for a number of years and turns
to roles marked by comparative ordinariness. What continues unabated,
however, is each character’s particular expression of those endemic qua
lities of Eastwood’s earlier heroes-individuality, strength, and persis
tence.
III. The Qauntlflt(i977 )
Many critics have singled out The Gauntlet as a pivotal film in the
development of Clint Eastwood’s star image. As a self-interrogation of
his persona’s omniscience, it certainly is that. Like Harry Callahan, Ben
174
Shockley is a policeman. While his dress and carnage occasionally re
call Harry, Ben is no Inspector Callahan. An alcoholic, Shockley has a
reputation for mediocrity which distinguishes him as the man least
likely to complete a difficult assignment. Opening the picture with East
wood drunk and disheveled recalls the beginning of Joe Kidd, but unlike
Joe, a sobered Shockley does not quickly become the latest variation of
the dominant Eastwood hero. His shortcomings, particularly bad judg
ment, are very real and he manages to survive only by the grace of an
other person’s perceptiveness. In many ways, The Gauntlet subverts
the mythology surrounding the actor’s dogged stubbornness and supe
rior insight3 It also reprises one of Eastwood’s favorite themes, the spir
itual rejuvenation of an individual through love and community.
Ben more than meets his match in Gus Malley, the prisoner he is
assigned to pick up in Las Vegas and return to Phoenix. A surprised
Shockley discovers Gus is a bright, educated, and venom-tongued pros
titute. Upon their meeting in jail, she warns him that any attempt to return
her to Phoenix will end in their deaths. Reacting much as Harry would,
Ben rejects her advice as a devious ploy and stubbornly acts upon his
own assessment of the situation. Doing so almost proves Gus prophetic.
In trying to move her, the mob nearly succeeds in killing them. Grudg
ingly at first, Ben gradually learns to trust her intelligence and advice.
After initially despising him as a cop, Gus in turn grows to respect Ben’s
resourcefulness and courage. What begins as an intensely hostile rela-
3 Andrew Sarris, Rev. of The Gauntlet. Village Voice: 55.
175
tionship turns into a loving partnership as together they barely survive
numerous mob attacks while struggling to make their way to Phoenix.
Never has Eastwood appeared so thick-headed or been so help
lessly a victim of another’s sarcastic wit. Gus not only bests him men
tally. She likewise delivers a swift kick to his groin when he raises a
clenched fist to one of her verbal broadsides. Physical beatings are
nothing new for Eastwood’s heroes. They appear in most of his films as
a matter of course; but rarely has he endured such a humiliating one and
not retaliated triumphantly. In this respect, Shockley’s closet antecedent
is Hogan in Two Mules for Sister Sara. Hogan also undergoes a treach
erous journey with a woman whose profession, intelligence, and earthi
ness anticipate Gus Malley’s. While Sara manages to deceive Hogan
into believing she is a nun, the dominating skill of the gunfighter more
than compensates for his being hoodwinked. Actually, it really makes for
nothing more than a cute little running joke.
In The Gauntlet, however, Shockley has few virtues upon which
to fall back. His career has been lackluster at best, his prospects are few,
and he has a drinking problem. This makes him especially vulnerable to
those Malley insults that strike so painfully close to home. The unique
ness of The Gauntlet is not that Clint Eastwood plays a man less intelli
gent than a woman. It lies in his playing a character whose limitations
are so acute that he is often left defenseless and humiliated when at
tacked. This inability to reassert his dominance through either violence
or with a decisive, clever insult at the propitious moment is totally out of
keeping with a significant dimension of the Eastwood persona. In many
176
ways, then, Ben Shockley introduces a new kind of character to the gal
lery of Eastwood heroes.
What Ben does share with his more competent predecessors are
determination and persistence. His personal and professional pride
begin to resurface as he realizes that “someone’s betting I can’t do my
job.” Crass though they may be, Gus’s taunts accurately describe his
predicament. They finally lead Ben to seeing that his superior, Commis
sioner Blaylock, is a pawn of organized crime and is anxious that Malley
should never survive the extradition and testify against him. Blaylock
hand-picked Ben to escort the prisoner because he considered Shock
ley incapable of protecting her from mob assassins. Taking stock of this
and other humiliations, Ben pulls himself together and sets out for Phoe
nix to expose Blaylock and prove how drastically he underestimated
Shockley’s character. He stops drinking, awakens his inner resources,
and takes charge of the situation.
As expected of an Eastwood hero, vengeance is operative but it
springs more from an attack on his character than from physical injury
suffered by himself or a friend. Ben is willing to risk everything to reas
sert his dignity by proving to Blaylock and to himself that he is not the
inept loser Blaylock assumes. Encouraged by Gus and driven by sheer
determination, Shockley counters Blaylock's efforts to kill him, delivers
Malley to city hall, and brings down the corrupt commissioner. In this
way, he perpetuates that Eastwood tradition of the indomitable individ
ual whose battle against incredible odds leaves him bloodied and bat
tered yet ultimately triumphant.
177
The Gauntlet concludes with Ben limping away accompanied by
the woman he loves. Gus is beside him, supporting him physically and
emotionally just as she has throughout the harrowing journey. It bears
a striking resemblance to the ending of Plav Mistv for Me in which Toby
braces a wounded Dave as together they shuffle slowly toward the front
door. It also anticipates similar conclusions in Sudden Impact (1983),
Tightrope (1984), Heartbreak Ridge (1986), and The Dead Pool (1988).
While these final scenes indicate that Eastwood’s characters rarely
emerge unscathed from their climactic confrontations, they further evi
dence the increasing significance that women hold in the lives of East
wood’s heroes. Usually they are women under attack whom Eastwood
saves after weathering an intense ordeal of peril and pain. Such heroics
may well render these men modern day knights-errant, but certainly
these women cannot be reduced to simple, one-dimensional damsels in
distress. They are more than requisite innocents slated for rescue by the
mighty deeds of their chivalrous champions. In imparting substance, di
mension, and equality to his female leads, Eastwood is subverting a
very ingrained convention of the action film.4
In earlier films, women were marginal to the task at hand. East
wood’s characters enjoyed being with them, but only occasionally did a
relationship mature beyond the comforts of physical attraction. For Ben,
Gus and what they share together are critical. Out of their relationship
he has begun to rediscover purpose and direction. Loving her, and she
him, has revived his faded dreams and rekindled his self-respect and
4 Carrie Rickey, “In Like Clint,” Fame November 1988: 129.
178
pride. Gus hardly functions as an expendable, interchangeable sex ob
ject who occupies the hero’s time between binges and assignments. For
the Eastwood hero, the equality and reciprocity shared by Ben and Gus
signal an evolutionary leap to a deeper, more sophisticated level of ro
mantic involvement. In subsequent films, such relationships assume an
urgency for his heroes which rival that of those physical challenges he
faces. Often the two become dramatically intertwined. This development
affects his screen persona by increasing his vulnerability, his complexity,
and his humanity but in no way diminishes his lofty status as a popular
hero.
In response to the feminist charge that Eastwood’s films deni
grate women,5 The Gauntlet’s Gus Malley exemplifies the actor/direc
tor’s willingness for female characters to reveal their full personhood.
He presents them with the propensity for the same weaknesses and
strengths, the same virtues and shortcomings that he accords men. Fi
nally, the heroes of Eastwood’s later films, particularly those whom he
directs, are painted as incomplete men without women. They need wo
men, and in turn are needed by women, in ways that certainly include
sexuality but go significantly beyond it. The nature of these loving rela
tionships are not rooted in dominance and shrinking one-dimensionality
but rather in equality, mutual respect and support, and interdependence.
This ideal relationship continues to be privileged throughout his later
work. It also marks yet a further break with the radical self-sufficiency and
emotional insensitivity that characterized his rise to stardom.
5 R. Alpert, “Eastwood Plays Dumb Cop,” rev. of The Guantlet. Jump
Cut May 1979: 4.
The healing power of human relationships is also central to an
other of Eastwood’s favorite themes, “ the rejuvenation of a cynic.1 , 6 Ben
Shockley shares with Breezv’s Frank Harmon, Josey Wales, and sev
eral later characters a crisis of spirit. Frustrated by empty relationships,
scarred by deep personal tragedies, or disappointed by career failures,
these men turn their backs on life’s possibilities. Disillusioned and fearful
of risking, they retreat into bitterness, vengeance, or alcoholism. Theirs
are lives that deny hope, that bury feelings to avoid the pain of loss and
disappointment. This process leaves them protected yet paralyzed, un
willing to explore new possibilities and experience life as joyous or
meaningful. The reoccurrence of this theme in his work testifies to East
wood’s fascination with these troubled persons and the subsequent
journeys they undergo in facing such existential crises. While individual
backgrounds and expressions differ, the resolution to spiritual stagnation
is always the same. Rebirth occurs within the context of a loving relation
ship and/or a caring community.
Ben’s redemption begins when he acknowledges his wasted
years as a drunken, mediocre cop. Out of this springs his bitter determi
nation to settle the score with Blaylock. But his decision to envision a
better life beyond retaliation is grounded in his relationship with Gus.
Through it, he rediscovers a sense of hopefulness about the possibilities
for intimacy and personal fulfillment. For her part, Gus gradually drops
the profane sarcasm with which she shields herself. Like Ben, their ex
periences together transform her fundamental attitude toward life. Re
6 Patrick McGilligan, “Clint Eastwood: Interview.” Focus on Film Au-
tumn 1976: 20.
placing her cynicism is a belief that all existence is not a sham, that hap
piness can be realized. Eastwood’s heroes have always managed to
dispense vengeance. What adds another dimension to Ben Shockley is
that vengeance is not the end of the story. He looks beyond it to a future
that offers peace and a new life. Making this spiritual reawakening and
reorientation possible is the loving relationship Ben and Gus share.
Without its power to energize and redirect them, they would probably re
main the drunken cop and obnoxious whore, locked in spiritual stagna
tion by cynical despair.
Before the final leg of their trek to Phoenix, the exhausted couple
stops at a motel. It offers a quiet opportunity for an open exchange of
their intimate thoughts and dreams. Ben sensitively recounts the troub
led days of his childhood, the professional ambitions left unfulfilled, and
his longings for a loving woman with whom to share his life. The emo
tional vulnerability which surfaces in this confession is the most revealed
by any Eastwood character to this point in his career. Even Josey Wales,
whose mourning evoked tears, could not find the words or the courage to
articulate his anguish to others. For Eastwood, The Gauntlet marks a
swing toward greater emotional freedom that later films will continue. On
the surface, it has much in common with earlier Eastwood action thrillers;
but in other ways it marks a significant shift to a more human, less distant
Eastwood. His next film continues this pattern of Eastwood’s deftly walk
ing the difficult line between toughness and tenderness while reinforcing
his status as a modern variation of the traditional American hero.
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IV. Every Which Wav But Loose M978^
In Every Which Way But Loose. Clint Eastwood returns to that low
brow lifestyle of the American West’s good ole boys which he first ex
plored in Thunderbolt and Liqhtfoot. Delighting as it does in boots, beer,
and brawling, this farcical film celebrates those recurring dreams and
fantasies so closely associated with the western working man. Filled
with a revolving gallery of stereotypical caricatures and grotesques, it
satirizes that subculture’s irritants and extols those traditional masculine
attributes of strength, virility, and freedom. Country and western music
pervades its soundtrack, filling the nightclubs and bars where much of
the action takes place. In fact, the plot itself reflects the sentimentality of
the iove-trust-betrayal structure of so many country and western ballads.
Eastwood is Philo Beddoe, a mild-mannered but indomitable
street fighter, who shares a run-down house in the San Fernando Valley
with tow trucker Orville Boggs and his mother, the cantankerous, foul-
mouthed Ma Boggs. Apart from Orville, Philo’s closest friend is Clyde,
an orangoutang he won in a fight. Philo supplements his financial win
nings by occasionally driving a truck or rebuilding the numerous wrecks
that Orville scatters randomly around the yard. For a good time, Philo
takes Clyde riding in his old pick-up and hangs out with Orville at the Pal
omino Club to drink beer, enjoy the music, and meet the ladies. On
stage one night is Lynn Halsey-Taylor. Philo is immediately smitten,
dates her a few times, and eventually loans her seven thousand dollars.
Suddenly Lynn vanishes from her trailer park, leaving only a brief fare
well note to express her love and regret. Having fallen totally for her,
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Philo believes this hasty departure can only mean that Lynn is deeply in
trouble. Joined by Orville and Clyde, Philo loads his camper and em
barks on the open highway to find and rescue the woman he loves.
Heroes and villains are very sharply drawn throughout Every
Which Wav But Loose. Philo is a physical, intuitive man, not a cerebral
one. He is self-sufficient, defends his honor against insults, conquers op
ponents with his fists and courage, and stands by his family and friends.
The most essential quality that he imparts is freedom, freedom to chart
his own destiny and freedom from those everyday demands that necessi
tate dependence and conformity. Philo is a prototype of the western
working man’s ideal, an individual who seemingly lives life on his own
terms, fears no man, and follows his dream where it takes him. Those
perpetual roadblocks to the good life experienced by most men are either
structurally absent from the film or are trivialized. Being single and self-
employed allows Philo to drop everything and take to the road when he
pleases. Bosses are also conveniently missing. Those other ubiquitous
figures of authority, the police, are reduced to incompetent fools. Two in
particular have a grudge against Philo and follow him as he searches for
Lynn. He dispatches them along with their truck in a slapstick but humili
ating manner.
Also tracking Philo eastward are the Black Widows, a motorcycle
gang whose members Philo repeatedly flattens in minor scuffles. Be
decked in all the rebellious garb reminiscent of the Hell’s Angels, these
over-the-hill buffoons fail miserably in every bravado attempt to show
case their dubious notoriety. Fools and incompetents, they serve as
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foils in several of the film’s most outrageous scenes. Such bikers are the
self-stylized outlaws of the working class world. Although sharing the
same socioeconomic background as their respectable neighbors, their
identity and recognition comes through flagrant anti-social behavior.
The most obvious of these is their wearing swastikas and other disrepu
table symbols of power, cruelty, and defiance. Their depiction here as
clowns underscores the distaste with which they are held. Having the
Black Widows consistently laid low by two-fisted truckers, mechanics,
and construction workers is also in keeping with the flights of wishful
thinking running throughout this phenomenally successful film.
Another unpopular type who earns a fitting comeuppance is the
snobbish intellectual. The college co-ed who arrogantly dismisses “ the
country and western mentality” as “ between moron and dull normal”
receives hers when she finds Orville’s discreetly planted false teeth af
fixed to her soup spoon. Also targeted is a swaggering black brawler
who obnoxiously taunts Philo before their fight and imitates Muhammad
Ali’s famous shuffle once it begins. Philo’s finishing him off in a flurry of
punches has a certain appropriateness about it. This film is filled with
caricatures of those social types most feared, resented, and misunder
stood by the white, western working class. Such fantasies of humiliation
which abound in Every Which Wav reflect these negative, aggressive
underpinnings. The delight they evoke results from watching threaten
ing social types reduced to impotence and absurdity. Satire neutralizes
the tension normally associated with them and allows for a good mea
sure of vicarious retaliation as well.
184
In The Gauntlet. Ben Shockley breaks through despair to rekindle
his hopes for a loving relationship. In a wistful monologue, he reveals
his tender, gentler side to Gus. Philo is far more in touch with his feel
ings from the outset, but like most Eastwood characters, he remains de
fensive and cautious about articulating them. Moreover, Philo has a
strong streak of sentimentality which surfaces throughout the film, espe
cially in his penchant for the heartbreak, sacrificial devotion, and stead
fastness glorified in his favorite music. Ideologically, this sentimentality
deeply colors how he understands and relates to the world. In Albuquer
que, Philo and Clyde spend a lonely evening wandering its night spots
in hopes of finding the elusive Lynn. He believes theirs is the romantic
relationship of true caring, painful separation, and unwavering commit
ment extolled by so many country and western songs. What Philo wants
is the same thing Ben wants. Each hopes simply to live a life of his own
making with the woman he loves by his side.
Communicating that vision, however, calls for an openness that
risks rejection, humiliation, and emasculation. In a private confession to
Clyde, Philo explains the difficulties he has with emotional intimacy.
“ When it comes to sharing my feelings with a woman,” he admits, “my
stomach turns to Royal Gelatin.” Such introspective bouts with confi
dence are hardly typical for Harry Callahan and Philo’s other predeces
sors. Placing women on the periphery of their lives as they do, these
men seldom invest enough of themselves to experience such longings.
Philo is as tough and courageous as any of Clint Eastwood’s heroes but
185
his susceptibility to love, its blindness, and its suffering give him a di
mension of vulnerability that the previous characters lack.
After finding Lynn in New Mexico and then losing her a second
time, Philo and his friends locate her in Colorado. Much to Philo’s sur
prise, she is with another man and wants nothing to do with her devoted
follower. Referring to him as “ the big dumb one,” Lynn snarls, “I've been
trying to get rid of you practically ever since the first night we met.”
Stunned, Philo wonders how that is possible after their tender love mak
ing only days before in New Mexico. Lynn heartlessly dismisses it. “I
need it just like anybody else,” she sneers. Slowly Philo realizes that he
is but one gullible man in many on her long list of profitable hustles.
When he admits that “up until now I’m the only one dumb enough who
wanted to take you further than your bed," Lynn hysterically attacks him.
He stands defenseless as her blows of anger and frustration bloody his
face, a feat seldom accomplished by any rival street fighter.
This picture of Clint Eastwood as the naive, lovesick innocent is a
new and startling one. Never before has an Eastwood hero’s trusted in
tuition served him so badly in leading to such humiliation. Lynn’s dev
astating revelations and vicious rejection place Philo’s romantic pursuit
in an entirely different context. Where it once assumed very noble, well-
intentioned proportions, it now takes on the embarrassing trappings of
a poor fool’s fantasies. After enduring this moment of truth, Philo can
only manage to salvage what dignity remains by walking away in stoic
silence.
186
For the most part, Every Which Wav But Loose celebrates a tra
ditional American mythology rooted in the western working man’s world.
At its core is a vision of the autonomous, indomitable hero whose free
dom is lived out in romantic adventure, physical prowess, and numerous
expressions of self-fulfillment. Among the latter of these is finding the
right woman, one whose unshakable love ensures that she always
“stands by her man.” She in turn shares his adventures, enjoys his pro
tection, and finds happiness in being loved and cherished. Conceptu
alizing human experience along such lines breathes anticipation and ex
citement into the way life is understood. Since this sensibility is a highly
dramatic one, it enables its adherents to transcend what for outsiders
may appear to be no more than a rather mundane and ordinary exist
ence.
While in many ways this film propagates that ideology, it also sub
verts it to a certain extent. A central focus of interrogation is Philo Bed-
doe and the actor who plays him. Philo is a victim of that sensibility so
aptly expressed in his music’s lyrics. He perceives his relationship with
Lynn along the lines of a romantic country ballad. How devastatingly dis
torted that view has become is revealed in their final encounter. Lynn
cynically equates Philo’s devotion with simple stupidity, mocks the signi
ficance he attaches to sexuality, and essentially debunks the sentimen
tality with which Philo (and country and western music in general) im
bues intimate relationships. Clint Eastwood’s playing the gullible victim
of a femme fatale continues to erode the aura of omniscience created
by his earlier roles. As dominant with his fists as he is, this Eastwood
187
character is no more immune to poor romantic judgment than is Every
man. The result is a further evolution of Eastwood’s image from taciturn
superhero of the working class to a hero from within the working class it
self.
A third important interrogation to occur in Every Which Way ex
plores the pivotal role the hero plays in the perpetuation of mythology.
Hovering throughout the story is the presence of Tank Murdock, a leg
endary street fighter from Denver. For this film’s characters, Tank repre
sents a prototypical working class hero, the standard against whom all
big hitters, hell raisers, and lovers are measured. Although he appears
only at the climax, references to him are interspersed throughout the film.
The fact that many of these are no more than mere asides indicates how
integral and pervasive Tank’s significance is in the day-to-day life of the
entire subculture. After an easy victory, Philo describes his overmatched
opponent as “no Tank Murdock.” When two Black Widows describe the
speed and power of Philo's punches, one marvels that "he could’ve
been Denver Tank Murdock!” The prowess of the obnoxious black
fighter “stacks up to Tank Murdock.” And Lynn entertains Philo and a
spellbound Orville with anecdotes of Murdock’s rousing romantic adven
tures. Tank stands as the living embodiment of the indomitable, fast-
living, self-determined individual, a hero whom men aspire to emulate
and woman aspire to embrace. His very existence affirms the possibility
that manhood in these terms is possible, that life can be exhilarating,
exciting, and lived on one’s own terms.
188
Philo finally meets Murdock in a fight arranged by Orville. Sur
rounded by his adoring fans, Tank backslaps and shares beers as he
awaits Philo’s arrival. Although filled with the swagger of his past glo
ries, Murdock is obviously well past his prime. Portly and nearly sixty, he
is no match for Philo’s jabs and combinations which repeatedly knock
him off his feet. Watching their dazed champion stagger about, the
crowd turns on Murdock with boos and insults. Sensing Tank’s humilia
tion, Philo drops his defenses so as to offer the aged fighter an easy
opening. When Murdock finally lands a punch, Philo takes a fall. Wink
ing at the exasperated Orville, he remains on the ground while a stun
ned but knowing Tank stumbles back victoriously to the cheering acco
lades of his fickle admirers.
Philo’s refusal to beat Murdock and thereby risk undermining his
legendary status confirms the importance Eastwood attaches to the he
ro’s place within a culture. As a living symbol, Murdock inspires trust in
the validity of the values, aspirations, and dreams of his particular soci
ety. The widespread tales of his triumphant adventures sustain a world
view and act as a stabilizing and reassuring presence for its adherents.
Philo’s decision to sacrifice himself to that legend undercuts its literal au
thenticity but not the crucial function it serves. The film then is ambiva
lent toward the mythology in which it engulfs itself. On the one hand, it
demythologizes the notion of the indestructible, good ole boy hero; on
the other, it affirms the necessity of keeping it alive in the hearts and
minds of its believers. As Eastwood has often suggested, people need
heroes as guarantors that certain possibilities in life are genuine op
189
tions.7 Maintaining the legend of Tank Murdock and all it represents to
his subculture is far more important for Philo than his becoming the focus
of a new one. In the end, the film celebrates its two-fisted country and
western world while on another level it reveals its tenuousness, simple-
mindedness, and self-indulgent sentimentality.
Regardless of which reading is privileged, Every Which Wav But
Loose is an important film in the development of Clint Eastwood’s career
and star image. For all its silly shenanigans, or perhaps because of
them, it was extremely popular with audiences. Its fabulous earnings
topped those of any previous Eastwood picture.8 It also represented a
major gamble. Warner Brothers fretted over such a radical departure for
their box office superstar. Having made mostly hard-nosed westerns and
police thrillers for a decade, this sudden switch to good ole boy farce was
an abrupt and seemingly risky change of direction. On top of that, Philo
Beddoe loses his money, his girl, and the climactic battle. This is cer
tainly not the stuff of which Eastwood films are generally made.
Nevertheless, part of its success can be attributed to the appear
ance of a new type of Eastwood hero, one who retains the essential ele
ments of the earlier roles while introducing characteristics typical of the
working class of the American West. Like Harry Callahan, Josey Wales,
and so many others, Philo is uncompromisingly autonomous. He is al
7 Richard Schickel, “Good Ole Burt; Cool-Eyed Clint,” Time 9 January
1978: 48; David Thomson, “ Cop on a Hot Tiahtrooe.” Film Comment
September-October 1984: 71.
8 While costing $3.5 million, Every W hich Way But Loose earned over
$87 million. See Ric Gentry, “Director Clint Eastwood: Attention to Detail
and Involvement for the Audience." Millimeter December 1980: 127.
190
ways his own man when it comes to pursuing his dreams, trusting his in
tuition, and following his conscience. His point of departure from the ear
lier characters comes in the investment he makes in community and in a
loss of infallibility. While physically very imposing, Philo is no cool loner
devoid of emotional attachments or the pain they bring. He cares deeply
for others, especially Orville and Clyde, but his falling in love renders his
judgment totally faulty.
What saves Philo from mere boorishness is the quality of his char
acter. He demonstrates repeatedly that he is a man of principle, integrity,
and compassion. In lifestyle and outlook he is very much a working
class hero, tougher than most men yet subject to the same faults and foi
bles as is everyone. There is also about him a certain gracefulness, par
ticularly in his handling of failure and humiliation. In place of retaliation,
Philo chooses to learn from his mistakes and to keep moving on, a sad
der but wiser man.
Significantly, the film ends on that symbol of freedom and new
possibilities, the open road. As a glum Philo and his friends leave Colo
rado, their pickup slowly passes the sorry remains of their vengeful pur
suers. Having lost their showdown with Philo and their motorcycles to
Orville’s commandeered garbage truck, the Black Widows chug slowly
back to Los Angeles in a smoking 1959 Cadillac convertible. The two
cops are equally battered as is their towed truck, all smarting after tan
gling with Philo. Encountering this motley procession reprises the fun
and excitement Philo and his friends shared together. It convinces them,
and Philo especially, that their pursuit of Lynn was not totally in vain. In
191
the end, the good times experienced along the way far outweigh the dis
illusionment and heartbreak he discovered at journey’s end. Recogniz
ing this and valuing what they share together, they put aside their disap
pointment and head on down the road in search of new adventures.
Winning, it appears, is not everything after all.
This milder, less severe Clint Eastwood begins to solidify a new
facet of his star image. Introduced in Thunderbolt and Lightfoot. the con
temporary westerner joins the gunfighter and the cop as a third recurring
social type in Eastwood’s oeuvre. While it reinforces many of the charac
teristics of the others, it also foregrounds several departures that gener
ate new meanings and interrogate earlier ones. Every Which Wav But
Loose begins Eastwood’s romance with western working class Ameri
cana. Obviously Eastwood feels quite at home here. During the next
four years he will return to this setting for three features overflowing with
his affection for its people, their dreams, and their music. Along with re
vealing his sensitive side, these films clearly established the existence of
an Eastwoodian self-reflexiveness that ignited the critical establishment’s
curiosity. Eventually they would lead to Eastwood’s recognition as an
important filmmaker as well as an actor whose continued popularity
made him a serious cultural artifact. As this was beginning, Eastwood
teamed again with Don Siegel to create a character whose cold impas
sivity left no doubt that the actor could still be as tough and laconic as
ever. What changed, however, was that he was now garnering praise for
his “less is more” style of acting.9
9 William Bates, “Clint Eastwood: Is Less More?” New York Times 17
June 1979, pt. 2: 1, 23.
192
Chapter Seven
Clint Eastwood: The Image (IV)
I. Escape from Alcatraz M 9791
While Every Which Wav But Loose earned more money than any
of Clint Eastwood’s previous films, this “red neck” farce did nothing to ad
vance his reputation among critics. Most described Philo Beddoe as a
new low in mindless roles for the actor, a disappointing turn for the worse
after The Outlaw Josev Wales and The Gauntlet had suggested a pro
mising complexity and maturation.1 With his portrayal of Frank Morris in
Escape from Alcatraz, however, the critical tide began to rise once again.
So exceptional was his portrayal of this hardened prisoner that several
critics openly second-guessed themselves.2 Perhaps in the heated con
troversy over his violent characters a certain distinctiveness of East
wood’s acting had been overlooked. Specifically, his masterful use of
facial expression and gesture in place of dialogue went a long way to
ward establishing the mystery and power characteristic of his screen pre
1 David Ansen, “ Wrong-Way Clint,” rev. of Every Which Wav But
Loose.” Newsweek 8 January 1979: 60.
2 lain Johnstone, The Man with No Name: The Biography of Clint
Eastwood (New York: Morrow Quill Paperbacks, 1981) 126-127.
193
sence.3 The public had long responded to it on more immediate and in
tuitive levels but now the critical establishment was beginning to take a
much harder, more serious look at Eastwood.
Escape from Alcatraz’ Frank Morris is not the first criminal Clint
Eastwood has played but he is the only one who is sent to prison. In
fact, his gallery of characters is composed largely of men whose degree
of social conformity and willingness to abide by the law is marginal at
best. Even his police officers seldom follow the rules when they conflict
with practicality or calls to a higher, personal morality. The same can be
said for the preponderance of anti-social behavior they generally display.
Only in his later films does Eastwood portray men whose fulfillment
comes about through community and relationships. Frank Morris is an
interesting transition character, a hardened loner much like Eastwood’s
earlier characters but also one who forms caring relationships with oth
ers. His rebellion against the repressive forces of bureaucracy, with Al
catraz as its most monstrous expression, is also typical of Eastwood’s
characters. Reoccurring throughout his films are attacks upon social
structures and institutions which depersonalize individuals and act in
competently and/or impotently in the face of human suffering and oppres
sion.
Director Don Siegel found Richard Tuggle’s script especially well-
suited for Eastwood. “ All the characters he’s played have been fierce in
dividualists and rebels. I was particularly interested in turning Dirty Harry
3 Johnstone 126-127.
194
into a prisoner, to put him on the other side of the bars.” 4 Taking Siegel’s
musings as a starting point establishes an interesting context for looking
at the film. Like Dirtv Harrv. Escape from Alcatraz is conveniently stacked
in the protagonist’s favor. Harry Callahan tangled with an incompetent
San Francisco bureaucracy whose timidity hindered his investigation
and apprehension of Scorpio. Although thoroughly reprehensible, the
killer was hardly three-dimensional and certainly no consideration was
given to any extenuating forces which may have driven him to murder. In
short, the situation was loaded markedly in Harry’s favor and not surpris
ingly it was his courage, competence, and omniscience that saved the
day.
In Escape from Alcatraz, the bureaucracy of Alcatraz is personi
fied by the warden--a cold, controlling, vindictive man, the polished incar
nation of calculated spiritual extermination. As theunfortunate benefici
aries of his stifling policies, Morris and his fellow prisoners are pictured
for the most part as victims-of the warden and of those circumstances
that brought them to Alcatraz. English, a leader among the black con
victs, was railroaded by a racist court for killing two white men in self-de
fense. Charlie Butts, little more than a petty car thief, ended up in Alca
traz because he crossed a spiteful guard at another penitentiary. Gentle,
artistic Doc all but dies when the warden arbitrarily removes his painting
privileges. Neither Doc’s nor the harmless Litmus’ crimes are ever men
tioned. And Frank Morris’ record for armed robbery is practically masked
behind the attention given his intelligence and resourcefulness as an es-
4 Frangois Guerif. Clint Eastwood (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1984)
136.
cape artist. Ironically, most of these men at Alcatraz are the kind Harry
Callahan would bring to justice without the least hint of compassion. In
Escape. Siegel completely reverses the attitude toward lawbreakers
which colored Dirtv Harrv. What the two films share in common, however,
is the direction toward which their sympathies are steered. Each is
weighted totally in the Eastwood character’s favor.
Consistent with most of Eastwood’s films, Escape from Alcatraz ex
tols ingenuity, tenacity, and the importance of "outlasting yourself,” but
principally it celebrates the human spirit’s victory over forces dedicated to
its extinction. Rebellion, another common theme in Eastwood’s work,
assumes its usual positive dimension. At stake in Morris’ personal battle
with the warden is the control of his soul. That is as much an issue as
whether or not the prison can contain him. Escaping becomes an act of
defiance against the dehumanizing efforts to destroy a man’s spirit and
an affirmation of the importance of individual freedom. When he watches
Doc complete his self-portrait, Frank questions the artist’s inclusion of an
imaginary chrysanthemum on his lapel. For the old man, it represents a
private part of himself which Alcatraz cannot control or smother. Soon
the flower becomes just such a recurring symbol: the prisoners pass
chrysanthemums among themselves as signs of encouragement and
perseverance. For his part, the warden responds by crushing them in
his clenched fist. Freedom and spiritual integrity are pressing concerns
in Eastwood’s films, so much so that here they significantly overshadow
major issues typically associated with his image, namely, crime and pun
ishment.
196
One commentator remarked that no other actor could play Frank
Morris with the same stubborn toughness and perseverance as East
wood.5 While it is a different role, certain consistencies with earlier por
trayals are evident. Morris embodies several of those traits that have be
come Eastwood trademarks. Three seem especially tailored after East
wood’s image. In an early scene, Wolf, a psychopathic bully, makes ho
mosexual overtures to Morris in the shower. In typical Eastwood fashion,
he counters with a vicious beating topped off by jamming a bar of soap
into Wolf’s mouth. Later, Morris avails himself of the Eastwood signature
of sarcastically snarling the bon mot at just the precise moment. This
time his target is the warden. In a carefully worded but scathing denun
ciation to his face, Morris labels the warden with that most favorite of
Eastwood expletives and manages to get away with it.
Finally, there is Morris’ relationship with English, the embittered
leader of the black prisoners. During their first meeting, English taunts
Morris, calling him “ boy” and comparing him to those treacherous whites
responsible for his life sentence. Morris responds by reciprocating his in
sults of “boy” and asking English, “Ya through killing white guys? Just
figured next time I wouldn’t turn my back on you.” Over a short period of
time, these verbal joustings evolve from grudging respect to genuine
friendship. This is typical of Eastwood’s handling of racial conflicts that
arise within his films. Whenever his characters are goaded with racial
slurs, they retort in kind.
* Vincent Canby, “Screen: Alcatraz Opens.” rev, of Escape from Al
catraz. New York Times 22 June 1979, pt. 3: 5.
Yet there is a refreshing honesty about his handling of racial ten
sions for he neither patronizes minorities, waxes sanctimoniously with
liberal platitudes, nor nobly suffers in guilty silence the resentment
heaped upon him as a representative white. Eastwood’s characters sel
dom tolerate racial epithets for as individuals they feel no responsibility
for causing the conditions that inspired them. When Morris remains
standing among the seated black convicts, English mockingly suggests
that “ there’s two reasons why you didn’t sit down on my step. Either
you’re too scared or you just hate niggers. Now which is it, boy? Are you
too scared?” With a knowing eye, Morris approaches, sits down next to
English, and quips, “I guess I just hate niggers.” English nods his accept
ance and soon the two men are discussing an escape. Frictions are not
glossed over, but out of honesty a relationship grows which transcends
the barriers of racial distrust. Once again, as in The Outlaw Josev Wales,
antagonists can overcome entrenched cultural animosities once they re
cognize the common experiences they share as human beings.
The sanctity of the individual remains at the center of Eastwood’s
work. As his characters grow more social and dependent upon others,
they nevertheless remain very much in touch with their personal dreams
and aspirations. Society, especially in the form of a close-knit, intentional
group, provides the context in which Eastwood's characters often realize
those dreams. While Frank Morris masterminds the escape for himself
and the Anglin brothers, its success occurs only with the other prison
ers’ help. Without English particularly, Morris would never have broken
198
out. This theme, the importance of self-determination within the frame
work of an intentional community, becomes much more obvious in his
next film. Although the climate and tone of the two differ radically, Es
cape from Alcatraz and Bronco Billv share this very significant notion of
valuing the individual* his dreams, and their realization. In Bronco Billv.
Eastwood will make this the film’s central meditation.
II. Bronco Billv (19801
The career of every artist is distinguished by pivotal works and
events, those that markedly solidify, modify, or reverse established ten
dencies and those that anticipate future concerns and directions. For
Clint Eastwood, A Fistful of Dollars and The Outlaw Josev Wales cer-
tainly belong in this category. Another whose significance can hardly be
overstated is Bronco Billv. Its importance is three-fold. According to
Eastwood, it is a far more personal film than any he had made before it.®
Many of his most deeply felt themes and values are evident here. Sec
ond, Billv features extensive self-interrogation and the apparent subver
sion of his tough guy image, albeit through sentimentality and very gen
tle satire. Finally, these dimensions of the film and the directorial skill he
revealed in their realization drastically altered the evaluation of East
wood and his work in the eyes of the critical establishment. Seemingly
overnight Clint Eastwood’s reputation as a filmmaker and as a social
phenomenon had changed direction to embark upon a course of serious
critical revision.
6Guerif 140.
199
Eastwood is Bronco Billy McCoy, the “head ramrod” and main at
traction of a small wild west show touring the Rocky Mountain states.
His troop includes Chief Big Eagle and his wife Lorraine Running Water,
‘Two Gun Lefty” Lebeau, “Lasso” Leonard James, and ringmaster “Doc”
Lynch. Their performances are second-rate at best and their audiences
generally sparse. Nevertheless they carry on in high hopes of one day
earning enough to “ get that ranch we want so city kids can come out and
see what cowboys and Indians are really like and we can all settle
down.” Along with billing himself as “ the fastest draw and greatest shot
in the West,” Billy endeavors to set a good example for “ the little bucka-
roos” and exhorts them to say their prayers, obey their parents, and not
get mixed up with “hard liquor and cigarettes.”
Under the big top or in casual conversations, Billy cheerfully af
fects the picturesque phrases and high-minded morality made famous by
Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, and other pristine western heroes. Just why a
man in his forties would be mouthing sagebrush homilies from bygone
matinees remains an enigma for some time. Whether he is showman,
charlatan, benign fool, or just what remains an open question. The rest
of his troop also resorts to this improbable jargon. That they deliver em
barrassingly trite cliches without the least hint of self-consciousness only
adds to the mystery. Given the entrenched meanings that Clint Eastwood
brings to the screen, is Billy’s child-like simplicity and idealism plausible
or is it only a matter of time before the practical tough guy emerges to
flush out this apparent charade?
200
Through a series of unusual circumstances in a film filled with ab
surd moments, Antoinette Lilly reluctantly joins the show as Billy’s assis
tant. Immediately the unsuspecting troop politely welcomes “Miss Lilly.”
In reality, she is an abrasive heiress marooned without a penny by her
scheming gigolo-husband one day after their marriage of convenience.
Caustic, cynical, and spoiled, Miss Lilly promptly ridicules Billy, conde
scends haughtily when speaking to the others, and generally does noth
ing to endear herself to anyone. Her running battle with Billy is espe
cially nasty at times. Only Running Water’s intervention saves Lilly from
a patented Eastwood punch after she scornfully defies the head ram
rod’s orders. This battle of the sexes finally ends when Antoinette recog
nizes her love for Billy and the changes she has undergone while living
with this band of warm eccentrics.
Eastwood sees Bronco Billy as “ the kind of film Frank Capra might
have made, romantic, funny, about a dreamy bunch of losers getting
their act together.” 7 The similarity is deeper than this comparison sug
gests. Actually Eastwood’s film shares much in common with the screw
ball comedies of the Thirties: sexual antagonism, oddball characters,
mistaken identity, and a certain airy, iconoclastic charm. Often over
looked, however, is the pronounced spiritual conflict between social con
formity and individual spontaneity which finds its resolution weighted en
tirely in the latter's favor. This struggle and its predictable outcome ap
pear in such classic comedies as It Happened One Niaht (1934), The
7 Johnstone 128.
201
Awful Truth (1937), Bringing Up Baby (1938), You Can't Take It with You
(1938), and His Girl Friday (19401.
In each of these, a character is either threatened with or suffoca
ted by overbearing rationality and is saved or converted from it by his
spiritual opposite. Usually the rescuer also doubles as the antagonistic
lover. Antoinette Lilly’s redemption follows a similar pattern and marks
the reappearance of one of Eastwood’s favorite themes: the rejuvena
tion of a cynic through a loving relationship and/or a caring community.
Miss Lilly’s ennui (“I find life pretty boring, don’t you?’’), pessimism
about others (“ folks just want to take”), and literalism (“ you’re living in a
dream world”) is overcome through the capacity for love, spontaneity, fan
tasy, and joyfulness she discovers within herself while traveling with the
show.
As Antoinette learns to trust Billy, her bitter histrionics gradually
subside and her curiosity about these naive misfits grows. Her ques
tions mirror those of the audience and lead to the heart of the film’s mes
sage. In a quiet scene with Billy, she wonders, “Are you for real?” His
answer is central to the text, “I’m who I want to be” --a cowboy hero just
like the ones he watched every Saturday afternoon as a child to escape
the misery of his life in a squalid tenement. After fire destroys his tent and
sends the show into dire financial straights, a desperate Billy decides to
emulate Jesse James by holding up a passenger train. As the voice of
reason and practicality, Antoinette pleads with him to abandon this crazy
plan. “ You're living in in a dream world,” she cries in exasperation.
“There are no more cowboys and Indians. That’s in the past.”
202
Realizing that his entire dream will die with the collapse of the
show, Billy replies, “ We’re at the end of our rope.... All my life I've
wanted to be a cowboy.... You only live once. You’ve got to give it
your best shot.” She whispers that she is rich and will give him the nec
essary money. Respecting her right to be whomever she chooses, Billy
answers “if you say you are, 1 believe you. But I’m head ramrod here
and I’ve made my decision.” Then with guns drawn and masks in place,
Billy leads the outfit’s pathetic, hilarious, and futile endeavor to stop the
streaking train. Later, during a visit to, ironically, a mental institution,
Running Water unravels the mystery of the troop for the confused and
frustrated Miss Lilly: “Don’t you understand what Bronco Billy and The
Wild West Show are all about? You can be anything you want. All you
have to do is go out and become it.. .. And until you know who you want
to be, you’ll never get very far.”
When discussing the historical accuracy of westerns, Jim Kitses
finds historicity of time and place secondary to a film’s success in ex
pressing what “ the idea of the West” signifies in the American imagina
tion.8 With its virgin lands and vast open spaces, the West has symbol
ized the opportunity for fresh beginnings and the freedom to determine
the shape and destiny of that new life. The Outlaw Josev Wales is East
wood’s most classical enunciation of this sensibility. Although set in the
contemporary West, Bronco Billv is no less a member of the genre. Its
characters are modern pioneers actively carving out new identities for
themselves. This is typically American; but what makes Billy so incon
8 Jim Kitses. Horizons West (New York and Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 1971) 8-12 .
203
gruous is his decision to cast himself literally in the role of the mythologi
cal hero rather than merely following the myth’s existential calling.
In Bronco Billv. Eastwood celebrates "the idea of the West" and
America’s promise of the possibility for radical self-determination. His
dogged persistence to become the person he wants to be makes Billv an
Eastwood favorite. He also admires Billy’s rejection of cynicism, the op
timism about his mission to the “little pardners,” and his unambiguous
set of priorities.9 Billy’s conceptuality of the world-his perceptions and
values-contradict those of the dominant ideology articulated early on by
the unregenerate Miss Lilly. Eliciting as they do memories of less jaded
times, his language and appearance alone reveal him to be hopelessly
anachronistic. Adding to this the film’s affirmation of individuality, self-
determination, and freedom, Billy fits very comfortably in the mold of the
traditional Eastwood hero. What distinguishes Billy from his predeces
sors, however, are his unexpected gentleness, affability, and continued
emphasis upon the value of community. As sentimental and old-fash
ioned as this message sounds, it nevertheless remains close to the di
rector’s heart. “If, as a film director, I ever wanted to say something,”
Eastwood admits, “ you'll find it in Bronco Billv ,”1 0
Ben Shockley and Philo Beddoe are two Eastwood characters
whose good judgment is often suspect. Billy’s shortcomings stem from
his inability at times to distinguish between his inner world and the reali
ties of the external one. His harebrained scheme to stop a train by over-
9 Johnstone 128.
'° Guerif 140.
204
taking it on horseback is a case in point. Billy is hardly the omniscient,
omnipotent hero of earlier films. While Eastwood claims not to parody his
image, he continually seems to be toying with it.1 1 Bronco Billv is a sub
version, a humorous interrogation, of many facets of his tough guy image.
Billy’s friendliness makes him comparatively vulnerable to insults other
Eastwood characters would find intolerable and his humor conspicuously
lacks the callousness so typical of the others. An emotionally sensitive
man, Billy falls deeply in love and it troubles him. He also reveals a very
romantic sensibility toward sexuality, treating it as far more than a mere
diversion between adventures. When Antoinette finally realizes that she
too is in love, she beckons him “ to take me in your arms and make love
to me.” Startled, yet remaining steadfast in his convictions, Billy reminds
her, “I would, Miss Lilly, but unless you love me, it wouldn’t be any good.”
If there exists one truly remarkable scene in the film, it is Billy’s
back roads meeting with a sadistic sheriff. For many fans, it is simultane
ously surprising, painful, yet also in a very real sense, liberating. It indi
cates that the Eastwood hero’s priorities are subject to change, that
other values are viable options. Beginning with A Fistful of Dollars, no
man has ever defeated or had the final word with an Eastwood charac
ter. The same cannot be said of the women he encounters, but as for
Harry, Coogan, and the others, they always make a point of settling per
sonal scores with their male antagonists. Despite being battered and
bloodied, or probably because of it, they eventually reestablish their
superiority over those responsible for their suffering and humiliation. Of
1 1 Johnstone 132.
205
ten this burning desire for revenge is all that does motivate them.
Bronco Billv introduces an alternative to reasserting the ego’s dominance
through retaliation. A sense of justice and the hero’s pride are in no way
undercut; rather their importance is placed within a wider context that
now looks beyond the individual to include other people.
True to earlier manifestations of the Eastwood hero, Billy skillfully
handles his gun in foiling a bank robbery. Later, when he rescues Antoi
nette from two would-be rapists, his vicious punches recall Philo Bed-
doe's. For all his sensitivity and dreaming, Billy is every bit as coura
geous, proud, and skilled as the other Eastwood characters. Where
Billy undermines well-established expectations is in his shifting values.
When the police arrest “Lasso” Leonard James for barroom brawling,
they discover he is wanted as an army deserter. To free Leonard, Billy
arranges a clandestine meeting with the vindictive sheriff to work out a
mutually beneficial resolution. The sheriff eventually takes the bribe but
not before he taunts Billy and dares him to display his fast draw in a gen
uine gunfight.
Once again the stage is set for an Eastwood hero to give an ob
noxious loudmouth his comeuppance. Clearly Billy can outdraw the
cumbersome lawman, but he refuses to go for his gun. Misinterpreting
Billy’s reluctance as a sure sign of cowardice, the sheriff ridicules him.
“ You’re nothing but a yellow-bellied eggsucker, you’re nothing.” His face
twitching beneath the famous Eastwood squint, Billy holds his temper
and endures the humiliating insults. More important then affirming his
dominance is Billy’s determination to free his good friend from the sher
206
iff’s jail. As a director, Eastwood admits he found it far better to stick by
the character instead of his image, for the issues here are loyalty and
friendship rather than pride.1 2 On the face of it, this only makes good
sense, but in the history of Clint Eastwood's screen image, this scene
marks the appearance of a new priority. Pride and one’s honor are sec
ondary when a friend’s welfare is at stake. As commonplace as this may
seem, for Clint Eastwood it has never been so impressively stated as it is
in Bronco Billv. By showing that there can be something more impor
tant than the loner and his pride, he interrogates those isolated rugged
individualists upon whom he built his reputation.
Along with these self-reflexive meditations, Eastwood brought
Bronco Billv to the screen with an unexpected directorial subtlety and
wit. Soon critics on both sides of the Atlantic were applauding him in
ways to which he was most unaccustomed. In Paris, Phillip French
warned that continuing to ignore Eastwood as a filmmaker would consti
tute a foolish critical oversight.1 3 Tom Allen, writing in The Village Voice,
spoke for many who were now beginning, grudgingly perhaps, to recog
nize Eastwood and his works as important. “Now it's time to take him
seriously, not only as a popular phenomenon, but as one of the most
honest and influential movie personalities of our time."1 4
1 2 Tim Cahill, “ The Rolling Stone Interview: Clint Eastwood,” Rolling
Stone 4 July 1985: 22.
,s Quoted in Johnstone 135.
1 4 Tom Allen, rev. of Bronco Billv. Village Voice. 16 June 1980: 64.
207
For alt the talk of style and humor, however, It is undoubtedly East
wood’s gentle parody of his macho image that attracted the favorable at
tention. Having witnessed his gallery of gunfighters, cops, and working
class heroes over the years, many found Billy a delightful change. East
wood’s willingness to undercut much of what many found so repellent
about his image suddenly made him worth watching.1 5 The prevailing
onus of “ fascist” and “Neanderthal” cast upon him by Pauline Kael and
others during the turmoil of the early Seventies was now subject to revi
sion. His skill as a filmmaker and his significance as a cultural artifact
were undergoing a radical transformation. Critics, discovering themes in
his work with which they were sympathetic, privileged them above those
they did not.1 6 Quite unintentionally, Bronco Billv reversed the general
critical orientation toward Eastwood. No longer brushed aside, he was
now receiving the favorable critical attention that had so long escaped
him.
As his stock as an actor appreciated with Escape from Alcatraz , so
too did his reputation as a total filmmaker change with Bronco Billv.
Where he was once denounced or at best dismissed, Eastwood was
now finding himself and his films favorably discussed in the parlance
generally reserved for filmmakers of greater sophistication and abstrac
tion.1 7 In short, Bronco Billv increased Eastwood’s following and status
1 5 John Vinocur, “Clint Eastwood, Seriously,” New York Times Maga
zine 24 February 1985: 26.
1 6 Vinocur 26.
1 7 Vinocur 30.
208
as a filmmaker by winning over many of his most ardent detractors. Their
conversion, however, should not be interpreted as a sudden about-face,
as an unexpected affirmation of the violent image that created and per
petuated Eastwood’s stardom. It followed rather from Eastwood’s per
sonal examination, treatment, and critique of that image. Eastwood’s
popularity, then, had widened but existed because he increasingly
meant different things to different people. With Bronco Billy. Richard
Dyer’s principle of structured polysemy, or the diversity of meanings
signified by a star, begins to come into play as it has never done previ
ously.1 8 This is why the film is such a pivotal one in Eastwood’s star ca
reer.
III. Anv W hich W a v You C a n (1 9 8 1 )
In this sequel to Every Which Wav But Loose. Clint Eastwood re
turns as two-fisted good ole boy Philo Beddoe. Joining him for further
adventures are Orville and Ma Boggs, Lynn Halsey-Taylor, the Black Wi
dow Motorcycle Gang, and, of course, Clyde, the orangoutang. Al
though its outlandish farce exceeds the original’s, Anv Which Wav You
Can avoids the bittersweet undercurrents rippling beneath the first film’s
silliness. Absent altogether are the painful romantic disillusionments
and the cultural interrogations running through the original. Going in
quite the opposite direction, the sequel projects an idealized version of a
western working man’s existence, one featuring self-determined, per
,s Richard Dver. Stars (London: British Film Institute, 1982) 72.
209
sonal fulfillment where the possibilities for happiness, friendship, and
social harmony abound.
One year after his eventful trip to Colorado, life has returned to
normal in Philo Beddoe’s San Fernando Valley neighborhood. He con
tinues to win fights, rebuild Orville’s collection of wrecked cars, and en
joy the sights and sounds of the area’s country and western nightspots.
One evening he encounters his former love, Lynn Halsey-Taylor. Hav
ing found him after a long search, she apologizes for her deception and
the vicious way she humiliated him. Not unexpectedly, Philo reacts very
coolly while a disgusted Orville warns her to leave his good friend alone.
Only Clyde treats her kindly. After struggling with himself for a while,
Philo follows his instincts and forgives Lynn for past heartaches. Real
izing that he still loves her, Philo risks trusting Lynn again. This time he
is not disappointed and soon they become a devoted couple. Philo’s act
of forgiveness enables their reconciliation to occur. It also introduces a
major theme in Anv Which Wav You Can and one which marks a signifi
cant departure from earlier Eastwood films.
There is a definite change in attitude toward personal transgres
sions in Anv Which Wav. In previous Eastwood films, the hero’s princi
ple motivation often involved settling accounts with those who insulted or
harmed him. Part of this film’s refreshing quality comes from its recurring
emphases upon forgiveness, reconciliation, and constructive restitution
in place of retribution. The western code’s admonition that “ a man’s got
to do what a man’s got to do” is in no way diminished, however. The
210
strong sense of obligation to reciprocate in kind remains fundamental but
its expression here is surprisingly positive.
Repeatedly Philo and rival fighter Jack Wilson take turns saving
one another’s life. After each rescue, gratitude is understated with a
short “I owe you one.” When the favor is reciprocated, the simple an
nouncement of “we're even” follows. Out of this pattern grows a
friendship that allows each man to maintain his dignity and a sense of
his own self-sufficiency. After all, as Philo says, “Handouts are what you
get from the government. Handups are what you get from your friends.”
Such indebtedness to another, however, is treated as a serious obliga
tion that must be repaid, not simply to maintain one’s sense of indepen
dence and self-esteem but also because good companionship requires
reciprocity. The dynamics of the imperative operating here may be quite
similar to those of retribution but the spirit motivating it and the results it
achieves are far more creative and constructive. To fully appreciate just
how far this represents a change for Eastwood, one only needs to com
pare this film with nearly all the others before it.
With a hefty offer from New York gambler James Beekman, Philo
agrees to take on Jack Wilson, Beekman’s hitter and a particularly for
midable street fighter. For three reasons Philo changes his mind. Lynn
and his friends convince him that the money is hardly worth the physical
risk. Philo also worries that he is beginning to experience a perverse joy
in the pain he endures. Finally, he has grown to like Wilson and values
the friendship that has sprung up between them. When he cancels the
fight, Beekman’s thugs abduct Lynn to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, where
211
the fight is now scheduled. Arriving in town several days later, Philo, Or
ville, and Clyde find the town in a festive spirit and filed with a comic as
sortment of high rolling caricatures. Rich little old ladies, backslapping,
down-home Texas wheeler-dealers, and an organized crime lord are
among the most prominent.
Still on Philo’s trail and headed for Jackson Hole as well are the
Black Widows. Pledged to “nail his hide to the gates of Hell," the gang
has endured further outrages at Beddoe’s hands throughout the film.
The worst occurs when they accidentally drive their cycles under a road
tar sprayer while chasing Philo. Cornering their nemesis moments later,
they prepare to reduce him to “ dead meat.” Before they can make their
move, however, the fast-drying tar hardens and freezes them in posi
tion. To compound the humiliation, Philo mercifully loads these living
statues into his truck and hauls them to the hospital for a thorough clean
ing and hair removal. As the long suffering boss of the Widows, Cholla
groans “ You're gonna pay for this, Beddoe.” Philo explains that he al
ready has in a way and that they now owe him forty dollars for expen
ses. Having weathered this and other indignities, the clownish gang,
bedecked appropriately in ridiculous wigs to conceal their baldness,
rides to Wyoming hell bent on a mission of revenge and retribution.
Upon arriving, they discover the fight is canceled. After Wilson
helps Philo rescue Lynn, the two men agree that neither intends to make
money for Beekman. Still, they cannot pass up the opportunity to find
out which of them is truly the better fighter. They decide to hold a private
bout on the outskirts of town. Locating a deserted barn, they begin slug
212
ging it out but are soon discovered. News that the fight is on races
through Jackson Hole and quickly a huge crowd gathers to follow the
men as their brawl winds throughout the town. When it becomes appar
ent to Beekman that Wilson is losing, he orders his hoods to shoot Philo.
Watching to one side, Cholla quickly perceives the threat and exhorts the
gang to rescue Beddoe. He erases their puzzled looks by explaining that
he pawned their motorcycles and bet the entire amount on their enemy.
“War (with Philo) is war,” he reminds them, “but business is business.” At
tacking Beekman’s men with unexpected skill and enthusiasm, the Wi
dows summarily dispatch the would-be assassins to save Philo’s life.
Despite breaking his wrist, Philo musters enough strength to
knock out Wilson and win the fight. After staggering to their feet, the ex
hausted men stride triumphantly side-by-side through the cheering
crowd. It is a scene of idealistic social harmony where friendship out
weighs the animosity of rivalry. Later, over beers and country music,
Wilson, Philo, and the others say their goodbyes and reaffirm their re
spect, admiration, and affection. Wilson’s farewell precedes Philo’s
final encounter with the Black Widows. Although it is humorous, it con
cludes with a touching affirmation of the film’s central themes of forgive
ness, restitution, good will, and reconciliation.
As Philo, Clyde, and Lynn wait at a traffic light, Beekman’s limou
sine pulls up beside the truck. Out of its sunroof pops Cholla and three
other Black Widows. “Hey, Beddoe!” their leader shouts. “We’ve got a
debt to settle with you.... Forty dollars. Now I believe that makes us
even.” Cholla laughs smugly, peels off two twenties from a wad of bills
213
and hands them to Philo. “You know, Beddoe, that was one hell of a fight
you put up over there. I mean one hell of a fight.” Beddoe returns the
compliment. “I understand you boys had a little scuffle yourselves.” Still
aglow with their first conquest over anyone, the Widows can only chuc
kle and gloat. After a brief pause, Cholla leans forward and with unchar
acteristic warmth declares, “You take care, Beddoe.” Smiling, Philo re
plies, “ You do the same,” and watches the limousine pull away. Three
Black Widows seated in the open trunk display a “Philo Beddoe for Presi
dent” placard as Cholla cheerleads theothers in celebrating their good
fortune.
This ending stands in sharp contrast to the final scenes of Every
Which Way But Loose. It concluded with a demoralized Philo passing
the smoky Cadillac of the broke and battered Widows. The sequel
leaves Philo victorious, happy, and with the woman he loves. Even the
Widows, those perpetual losers, have become winners. Along with
Bronco Billv. Anv Which Wav You Can represents the high water mark
for optimism in Clint Eastwood’s career. Both films reveal a very good-
natured, caring side of the man. It is significant that this positive outlook
appears in comedies that are so eccentric that they seem far removed
from the everyday. They represent refreshing oases amidst the harsher
surroundings in which most of his films are set. As David Kehr describes
them, these lighter vehicles are daydreams to the nightmares which East
wood usually occupies.1 9
1 9 David Kehr, “ A Fistful of Eastwood: Ten Tapes to Make Your Day,”
American Film March 1985: 67.
214
That a man so closely identified with revenge, violence, cynicism,
and emotional toughness should suddenly produce films of a different
nature comes as somewhat of a surprise. Yet Eastwood’s career is
marked by continual surprise and intentional changes in direction and
emphasis. While exasperated critics have found him elusive, audiences
have repeatedly allowed Eastwood to take them where he will.2 0 His
next two films represent his greatest departures from that image since
The Beguiled and, like that film, undoubtedly tested the limits of his pop
ularity at the box office.
2 0 Nat Hentoff, “Flight of Fancy,” American Film September 1988: 29.
Chapter Eight
Clint Eastwood: The Image (V)
I. Fjrefox (1982)
The world of cinematic spies, secret missions, and international
espionage is scarcely anew one for Clint Eastwood. Where Eagles Dare
and The Eiger Sanction featured dangerous covert operations whose
hefty challenges his heroes conquered with skill and courage. Similarly,
Firefox’s daring assignment finds Eastwood’s character venturing deep
within the heart of the Soviet Union. His assignment exceeds merely
stealing the blue prints for a fantastic new aircraft, the Firefox. The prize
is no less than the plane itself which he is ordered to hijack from under
Russian noses and fly deftly to safety in the West. Given the psychologi
cal and physical resources typical of most Eastwood heroes, such a task
seems quite formidable but hardly impossible. Mitchell Gant, however, is
unlike any previous Eastwood character.
A former top Air Force fighter pilot, Major Mitchell Grant is cur-
ently retired from active duty. A victim of delayed stress syndrome stem
ming from of his experiences in Vietnam, Gant has withdrawn to a soli
tary life in the Alaskan wilderness. As the film opens, he is jogging
through the forest when a helicopter gunship appears on the horizon.
216
Panicking at its sight, Gant races into his cabin, grabs a shotgun, and
cowers against the wall in absolute terror. During the ensuing hallucina
tion, he relives his capture by North Vietnamese troops and the American
planes that attacked them. What torments him is the recurring image of
a peasant girl’s incineration within a fiery ball of napalm. When Gant
finally regains consciousness, he discovers Captain Buchholtz and the
helicopter crew helping him to his feet.
Gant’s mental health and the likelihood of his success at stealing
the MIG-31 Firefox remain central issues for the intelligence community
and for the audience. He quickly erases any doubts about his flying skills
but his ability to withstand the strain of such a dangerous assignment lin
gers. And well it should. Not since The Beguiled has Eastwood played
a character so out of keeping with his image. Gant in no Harry Callahan.
He is inordinately tense, confused, and frightened, the very antithesis of
the taciturn man of infinite courage and control.1 This becomes espe
cially pronounced during his espionage training. When shown films of
Leon Sprague, a man he is to impersonate, his instructor asks, “Could
you be that cool, Gant?" Later he is handed a gun and asked, “ Can you
use this?” To ask such questions of a man with Eastwood's screen per
sona might normally seem rhetorical, if not humorous, but for Mitchell
Gant real doubts persist about his intestinal fortitude and his capacity to
act effectively under pressure.
Not unexpectedly, Gant manages to overcome his fears and suc-
essfully steal the Firefox. Once in its cockpit, he becomes the invincible
1 Frangois Guerif. CfTnt Eastwood (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1986)
157.
217
Clint Eastwood of popular expectations, the master of the situation and
of his incredible weapon. Prior to the airplane’s takeoff, however, Gant
barely survives the physical and psychological ordeals of espionage.
The famous Eastwood coolness is replaced by stress-induced hallucina
tions and nearly uncontrollable anxiety. Even Gant’s appearance con
trasts markedly with that of Eastwood’s other characters. His glasses,
sallow countenance, innocuous haircut, and conservative suit suggest a
man engulfed by intense apprehension.
A total stranger to undercover work, Gant continually makes poten
tially disastrous mistakes. The most serious occurs when he panics and
kills a KGB agent whom he erroneously believes has identified him.
Pavel Upenskoy, his Russian contact, degrades him repeatedly (“you
stupid American!” ) for his blundering, bewilderment, and lack of control.
When Upenskoy kills Leon Sprague to provide Gant with an identity, the
pilot is so stunned by the sudden brutality that his failure to flee nearly
subverts the entire mission. Only when Gant steals the Firefox does he
resemble the typical Eastwood hero. Throughout most of the film, he
negates nearly every aspect of the famous screen image.
Significantly, many of Gant’s problems emanate from his privi
leged position as a fighter pilot. Not unlike other airmen, Gant’s combat
experience occurred within the pristine skies high above the battlefield.
The “anonymity of altitude” allowed his dropping bombs and napalm
without having to deal morally with the reality of their appalling destruc
tiveness. Once on the ground, however, he comes face to face with his
own responsibility when he witnesses the fiery death of the innocent pea
218
sant girl. This traumatic realization leads ultimately to his mental break
down and his retirement from active duty. And as a guilty memory, it re
turns to haunt him whenever he endures similar agonizing instances of
severe stress.
Gant shares with most Eastwood characters a simplicity that is re
freshing oftentimes yet becomes embarrassingly naive at others. He
agrees to undertake the mission out of patriotism and professional pride
but without any notion of the operation’s complexity or inherent vicious
ness. In several ways, then, Gant’s journey into Russia resembles his
revelatory experience on the ground in North Vietnam. In both instances,
he is forced to “ get his head out of the clouds” by confronting moral ambi
guities that before he never imagined existed.
Once in Moscow, Gant quickly finds himself a complete stranger
to the ruthless machinations of the espionage enterprise. His mission
succeeds only through the courage and sacrifice of the film’s true heroes,
Upenskoy and the other dissidents. While Firefox works well as a sus
penseful spy thriller climaxed by dazzling special effects, it also func
tions ideologically as a indictment of totalitarianism and conversely as an
affirmation of political and spiritual freedom. Gant encounters the perva
siveness of the Soviet police state first-hand. The KGB is massive and
ubiquitous. Its agents bug his hotel room and shadow his every move.
What Gant does not experience directly, Upenskoy and the others de
scribe to him during his journey into the heart of the Soviet Union.
Confronted with the enormity of this monstrous apparatus, Gant
questions Upenskoy about the apparent futility of his involvement in
219
such dangerous subversive operations against it. “ What is it with you
Jews anyway?” he asks. “Don’t you ever get tired of fighting city hall?”
Conformity would appear to be so much safer and wiser. “Fighting is not
a freedom we enjoy, Mr. Gant,” the dissent smirks and then explains to
the bewildered American that he has been ordered to die if necessary to
help Gant steal the Firefox. Such commitment Gant cannot fully under
stand. His enlightenment does not occur until he meets Dr. Baranovitch.
At that time, the underlying issues at stake in the mission begin to as
sume very human, existential dimensions for “What do you mean it (your
life) doesn't matter?! I don’t know why you’re all so willing to die.” In a
controlled but impassioned speech, Baranovitch explains that as a free
man Gant has never known the incessant indignities one experiences
under totalitarianism. Any resentment Baranovitch may feel toward
Western intelligence for asking him to give his life is nothing compared to
the hatred that he, as an oppressed Jew, feels for the KGB and the So
viet system it represents.
Firefox has a much different look and feel about it than other East
wood films. Its combination of European settings, sophisticated lan
guage, international cast, and elaborate special effects represents a bold
departure for the actor/director. And certainly he has never portrayed a
character with such weaknesses. Yet it is not difficult to see the attraction
this property held for him. Not only does it provide the requisite opportu
nities for suspense and action, but thematically it unites two of East
wood’s paramount concerns. His entire oeuvre celebrates the priority of
individual freedom and condemns those forces that seek to suppress it.
220
His country and western vehicles are the most obvious examples; but
even such diverse films as Plav Mistv for Me and Escape from Alcatraz
argue his cause by portraying a relationship and an institution, respec
tively, in which freedom is suffocated. Firefox’s depiction of the KGB’s
and by extension the Soviet government's massive efforts to thwart in
dividual expression and self-determination is by far Eastwood’s most in
tense affirmation of human freedom and his most strident attack against
those who would deny it.
Mitchell Gant's complacent attitude toward his freedom extends to
the American people as well. When questioned about the theft of the
Firefox, a Russian official explains that the West is merely “paying the
price for too many years of softness.” This is Eastwood’s call not so much
for greater military preparedness as for a renewed appreciation of demo
cratic ideals and traditions, those which most Americans merely take for
granted. Ironically, Gant discovers their importance while traveling
through a nation that refuses their legitimacy. Additionally, the dissi
dents’ willingness to sacrifice themselves testifies to their hatred of totali
tarianism and their longing for the freedom it denies. For all the more
sensational aspects of the film, this is the one message its director
wishes to leave with audiences.
Once again Eastwood reveals his affinity with that earlier populist
Frank Capra, whose Meet John Doe (1940) also echoes Thomas Jef
ferson’s dictum that “ eternal vigilance is the price of liberty.” As antiqua
ted and old-fashioned as this message may appear, it is characteristic of
a filmmaker who demonstrates little interest in keeping up with the latest
221
in shifting cultural trends. It also lends further support to a popular per
ception that he is a political conservative and in many ways, a cultural
anachronism. In any case, individual freedom and self-determination re
main at the heart of Eastwood’s work and of his star image. Further
more, since Firefox belongs to an overtly political genre, it allows him
to extol these values far more didactically than he can through those tra
ditionally less sophisticated genres in which he usually works. Whatever
genre he chooses, however, individual freedom remains a consistent
concern throughout Eastwood’s films.
For all his psychological problems and shortcomings as a spy, Mit
chell Gant justifies his reputation as an expert pilot. His mastery over the
Soviet air defenses fulfills any and all expectations of an Eastwood hero.
If it did not, the film would hardly have enjoyed the box office success it
did. Gant is not the actor’s first seriously flawed character but to this
point in his career he is certainly the most extreme example. Ben Shock
ley, The Gauntlet’s alcoholic cop, is really the forerunner of characters to
come, a man wrestling with debilitating internal conflicts as well as the
visible external ones. Earlier in his career, “Clint Eastwood” only faced
the challenges of villains, foolish bureaucrats, and physical obstacles.
Beginning with Mitchell Gant, a greater number of his battles will in
clude those within himself as well. In this movement toward greater am
biguity and complexity in his roles, Eastwood further interrogates his
image and the meanings ascribed to it. Just how far his audience would
tolerate that interrogation became clear with the release of his next film,
Honkvtonk Man.
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II. Honkvtonk Man (19821
Clint Eastwood fully realized the odds he was fighting when he un
dertook Honkvtonk Man.2 As Red Stovall, he plays a tuberculous coun
try singer given one last shot at success. During the Depression, Red
travels the circuit of indistinguishable roadhouses, nightclubs, and honk-
ytonks situated along the dusty back roads of the Southwest. When he
receives an invitation to audition for the prestigious Grand Old Oprey,
Red enlists Whit, his willing fourteen year-old nephew, to help with the
driving and accompanied by the boy’s grandfather, they set off for Nash
ville, each in search of his special dream.
Their picaresque journey includes its share of misadventures, the
boy’s rites of passage, and ultimately Red’s losing the battle to his fail
ing lungs. An alcoholic, irresponsible ne’er-do-well, Red is a far cry from
the star’s usual tough guy. Apart from his down-home charm and good-
natured recklessness, he has seemingly little to recommend him to East
wood’s fans, especially his on-screen death. Having learned from The
Bequiled’s fate that this is box office poison, Eastwood nevertheless
went ahead with the project. Later he explained, “I just figured some
times you have to do some things that you want to do and be selfish
about it.” 3 Significantly, this statement not only illuminates Eastwood’s
motivation for making the film. It could just as easily be a line spoken by
Red Stovall and suggests what Eastwood finds so appealing about him.
2 Norman Mailer, “ All the Pirates and People.” Parade 23 October
1983: 6.
3 Mailer 6.
223
Regardless of his faults and failures, Red has within him a special quality
that Eastwood privileges in Honkvtonk Man as he has done repeatedly
in other films.
Eastwood likes those apparent losers of American society who
persistently follow their dreams and Honkvtonk Man. like Bronco Billv. is
filled with them.4 As death approaches, Red clearly sees the audition as
his final opportunity to achieve stardom as a country music singer. Whit
also wants “ the chance to be somebody.” Not surprisingly, the boy lacks
any clear notion of what that might entail, but for the moment Uncle Red’s
exciting life as an itinerant musician certainly beats his parents’ share-
cropping drudgery. Another with stars in her eyes is Marlene Moonie, a
tone-deaf but plucky teenager who stows away in Red's trunk. Envision
ing her future as radio star Marlene Moonglow (her stage name), she too
seeks “her heart’s desire” in Nashville. Finally, Grandpa Wagoneer
longs to return to his roots. When Whit’s father plans for the family’s mi
gration to California, Grandpa decides he would rather spend his re
maining days among the familiar surroundings and idyllic remembrances
of his Tennessee hometown.
Recalling the memories of his youth, Grandpa understands the
importance of pursuing the impossible dream. As they drive across Okla
homa, he beckons Whit to stop the car. Excitedly, he gets out, leads his
grandson to a barbed wire fence, and nostalgically scans the horizon.
His weathered features suddenly beaming, the old man describes the
excitement of the Cherokee Strip land rush of 1893. Across this desolate
4 lain Johnstone. The~Man with No Name: The Biooraphv of Clint
Eastwood (New York: Morrow Gill Paperbacks, 1981) 133.
224
stretch of plains he rode his mule in “ the greatest horse race for the big
gest prize.” Sharing the same hopes with thousands of others, he raced
to claim the chance for new beginnings and endless possibilities.
Shrugging off the eventual loss of his land, Grandpa savors the anticipa
tion, exuberance, and satisfaction he experienced in going after it. “ We
weren’t just land chasers, we were dreamers,” he remembers proudly.
Sifting the earth through his fingers, he concludes, “ just look at it now--all
turned to dust.” What matters, however, is clinging to a dream and pursu
ing it. Its realization is secondary to the exuberance of the quest.
Eastwood merges this theme with other familiar ones during Red’s
final days in Nashville. What begins as a promising audition at the Oprey
suddenly falls apart when a coughing fit reveals “he’s another lunger,”
a liability for any live radio show. In spite of this, two record executives
spot Red’s potential and offer him a contract. Seriously ill and aware that
his time is short, Red agrees to a session the next day. Knowing that
such exertion will kill him, Whit warns his uncle of the consequences.
Red’s response exemplifies the perspective of any number of East
wood’s characters. “It’s my life,” he barks, “ and I’m gonna live it out on
my own terms or I’m not gonna live at all.” Within this most gentle, least
formidable of Eastwood’s heroes runs the same self-determination and
fierce individualism typical of his strongest. For Eastwood, the decision
to follow one’s personal dream is only the first step. Doggedly pursuing
it in the face of opposition and obstacles is the second. As a variation
on the theme “ a man’s gotta do, what a man’s gotta do,” Red decides to
play his string out to the end. With death imminent, he continues to re
225
cord hour after hour. Once again an Eastwood character perseveres and
“outlasts himself” in accomplishing what he believes he must.
When asked which of his films was his favorite, Don Siegel chose
The Beouiled.5 Ironically, it was among his least successful at the box
office. The same can be said of Clint Eastwood and Honkvtonk Man.6
Given his background and interests, Eastwood’s attraction to the film is
readily understandable. In addition to allowing him to explore several of
his most passionate themes, Honkvtonk Man recreates the small town life
of the Southwest which Eastwood experienced during his Depression
childhood. His love of country and western music and its musicians
which reappears throughout his oeuvre also comes to the fore in this film.
Eastwood’s willingness to undertake such a project with so little to re
commend it as a commercial venture testifies to the very personal signifi
cance he attaches to it.
The reasons for its failure are also quite apparent. Superficially,
Red Stovall appears antithetical to everything Eastwood’s popular image
signifies. A physically dominant, emotionally distanced, and ultimately
triumphant tough guy is replaced by an alcoholic vagabond whose neg
lect for a chronic illness leads not to a hero’s gallant death but to a tear
ful, hallucinatory one in a two-bit hotel room. Although set among the
American working class, much like the Philo Beddoe films, Honkvtonk
Man lacks the latter’s ribald, farcical tone which softens the mistakes and
5 Stuart M. Kaminsky, Don Sieael: Director (New York: Curtis Books,
1974) 234.
6 Guerif 140.
226
weaknesses of its hero. Sensitive, vulnerable, and far from physically im
posing, Red Stovall has very little to recommend him to those anticipat
ing a typical Eastwood character. Describing Honkytonk Man as “ an in
teresting attempt for Eastwood to break out of the mold his fans expect of
him” 7 exceeds mere understatement.
The self-reflexive subtext running through most of Eastwood’s
films is especially pronounced in Honkvtonk Man. His choosing to por
tray Red Stovall, a man ostensibly at the opposite end of his spectrum
from Harry Callahan, suggests “a curious kind of self-mockery.”8 While
this position is not without merit, a more fruitful perspective on Red Sto
vall sees him not as a polemic against Eastwood’s established persona
but rather as a distillation of those fundamental characteristics that East
wood consistently values in the men he portrays. Discard the emotional
hardness, physical toughness, and arrogant omniscience and what re
mains is a resilient individualism that champions self-determination and
a persistent fidelity to the dictates and direction of one’s personal ideol
ogy.
Eastwood privileges this characteristic in Stovall as he did in
Bronco Billy’s motley troop. From outward appearances, Billy and Red
are losers, but Eastwood finds them heroic precisely because each has
the courage to choose and march to his own drummer. Like David Cop-
perfield, each is dedicated to “becoming the hero of [his] own life.” Such
7 Sheila Benson, “Eastwood’s Honkvtonk Off a Whit,” rev. of Honkv
tonk Man. Los Anaeles Times 15 December 1982, Calendar: 1.
8 Richard Combs, rev. of Honkvtonk Man. Monthly Film Bulletin July
1983: 189.
227
characters obviously lack the external trappings of physical power and
dominance necessary to perpetuate the devotion of a mass audience;
but Honkvtonk Man. like Bronco Billv. accentuates a decidedly different,
more subtle strength lying at the heart of nearly all his characters. Gener
ally obscured beneath the action and adventure with which Eastwood is
most readily identified, this persistent belief in oneself is the sine qua
non of the star’s persona.
Honkvtonk Man represents Clint Eastwood’s most radical test of
the public’s willingness to accept his exploration of new directions. That
his fans refused to travel with Red Stovall comes as no surprise. Twelve
years earlier, they avoided The Bepuiled’s John McBurney for many of
the same reasons. During that period, however, Eastwood successfully
stretched his image to encompass the likes of Dave Garver, Philo Bed-
doe, Frank Morris, and Bronco Billy McCoy. While Honkvtonk Man did
fail financially, it won Eastwood additional critical attention. The merits of
the film aside, his willingness to risk failure by casting himself so dramati
cally against type in such an off-beat film further confounded many critics.
He continued to underscore his reputation as a filmmaker not easily pig
eonholed, a seemingly simple, one-dimensional man whose diversity of
interests belies that appraisal.
Several months after the release of Honkvtonk Man. Clint East
wood’s star career entered a new phase. He soon found himself dis
cussed seriously in intellectual categories as much and perhaps more so
than his acting and directorial talents. Where once the latter were dis
missed, attacked, or ridiculed, Eastwood was slowly becoming spot
228
lighted as a major American filmmaker and as an important cultural arti
fact. Much of the impetus for this sudden shift in critical orientation can
be traced to Norman Mailer whose 1983 article examined Eastwood as
a distinctively American artist and as a significant American figure.9 Em
phasizing the westerns but especially the western working class films,
Mailer discovered the evolution of Eastwood’s “own vision of life in
America . . . a homegrown philosophy . . . a sardonic, unsentimental set
of values that is equal to art for it would grapple with the roots of life it
self.”1 0 Particularly in Honkytonk Man Mailer found “ the harsh, yearning
belly of rural America, used to making out with next to nothing but hard
concerns and the spark of a dream that will never give up.”1 1 Unwilling to
privilege Harry Callahan and The Man with No Name as the decisive
identity elements in Eastwood’s image, Mailer chose to elevate those
films that reflect a working class ethos of America’s heartland.
Mailer not only focused on Eastwood’s films as reaffirmations of
that traditional American belief in the genuine possibility for self-realiza
tion. He also portrayed Eastwood as a man whose accomplishments,
personality, and life style validate those very values heralded by much of
American mythology. Mailer’s article resulted in accelerating the shift
ing critical orientation toward Eastwood. Very soon now, his significance
as “an American icon” would be debated as frequently as that of his films
and screen image. At this point in his career, however, the time for dis
9 Mailer 6.
1 0 Mailer 6.
,1 Mailer 6.
229
tinguishing the image from the man had long since passed. Apart from
recognizing some very obvious differences, critics would find, as audi
ences had for two decades, that the two were inextricably linked and no
commentary could separate the bond and still claim to be insightful.
III. Sudden Impact (1983)
During the seven years since he portrayed Harry Callahan in The
Enforcer. Clint Eastwood’s image added a softer, more affable, and less
imposing side. The distanced loner of earlier years had increasingly af
firmed community, albeit always an intentional one, and often demon
strated a strong and sentimental attachment to it. Following his portrayal
of Red Stovall in the gentle Honkvtonk Man. Sudden Impact foraed an
impression worthy of the film’s title. Unquestionably Eastwood’s nastiest,
most violent film, this latest addition to the series embroils Harry in a
nightmare world where good is colored gray at best when set against the
background of evil’s solid blacks.1 2 At just the time when Eastwood’s
sensitivity and mellowing were at their zenith, he downshifted into a most
familiar gear to deliver this vehicle of unbridled anger, misanthropy, and
despair.
Why Eastwood would backtrack so abruptly at this point in his ca
reer has not escaped speculation. After the financial disappointment of
Honkvtonk Man. he may well have decided to cover his losses, and earn
1 2 David Ansen, Gerald Lubenow, and Peter McAlevey, “Clint: An
American Icon." Newsweek 22 July 1985: 52.
230
considerably more, by cashing in on Harry’s perennial popularity.1 3 Per
haps this excessively brutal film is Eastwood’s backhanded slap at an
audience unable or unwilling to accept him in other than Harry Callahan-
type roles. The film’s overkill conjures up images of a sarcastic East
wood growling, “So you say you want to see Harry blow away the bad
guys? Well, here you are. Enjoy the carnage!” While there may be
something to this, Eastwood’s elevation of violence and the Callahan
character to absurd levels points more significantly to the way in which
Eastwood understands these films. His career is marked by repeated re
ferences to them as “ fantasies,” as exciting, escapist entertainment but
hardly as realistic depictions of life or literal prescriptions for resolving
social problems.1 4 Given this assumption, it is insightful to discover how
Eastwood handles Harry and his world when he assumes not only the
starring role but the film’s production and direction as well.
Characterized visually by an ominously expressionistic style and
a metaphysically pessimistic sensibility, film noir typically converts a very
naturalistic setting into an anguished world of perpetual deception, cor
ruption, and death. In its depiction of the human depravity lurking be
neath polished surfaces, film noir occasionally shares much in common
with the less otherworldly dimensions of the horror film. Such abstraction
and amplification of the human condition’s most negative aspects gives
it an extreme, often fantastic and utterly baroque quality. Sudden Impact.
1 3 Paul Taylor, rev, of Sudden Impact. M o n th ly Elffl Bu lletin January
1984: 21.
1 4 Mailer 7; David Thompson, “Cop on a Hot Tightrope." Film Comment
September-October 1984: 71.
231
with its unbridled despair and pessimism, combines the mood and look
of Forties film noir with the conventions of the Harry Callahan films. The
result is not unexpected for Eastwood the director remains faithful to
thenoir consciousness in creating a nightmarish, fantastic world where
moral ambiguity abounds and the American system of justice is corrupt,
impotent, and mired in bureaucracy.
Harry’s impression of San Francisco has hardly improved in
seven years. Society’s toleration of its destructive horde of lumpen con
firms his contention that “we [the police] have got our fingers in the holes
and the whole damn dike’s crumbling about us.” As “ the one constant in
the ever changing universe,” Harry remains contemptuous of the bleed
ing hearts, sanctimonious liberals, and irresponsible bureaucrats who
attack his methods. In Harry’s refusal to accommodate, the cautionary
tendencies of his previous films toward his original hard-line attitudes
have vanished.
Sudden Impact reveals no attempt on Eastwood’s part to placate
Harry’s critics.1 5 Where Magnum Force and The Enforcer intentionally
addressed charges of fascism, racism, and sexism, Sudden Impact pulls
no punches, deciding rather to ride roughshod over his critics’ sensitivi
ties. True to Eastwood’s emphasis upon the individual, villains (and he
roes) come in all colors, genders, and sexual persuasions. Every group
has its share of miscreants and Harry treats them equally without resort
ing to social generalizations. For Harry, criminals are criminals: they still
hide behind lenient court decisions and the incompetence of self-serving
1 5 Andrew Sarris. rev, of Sudden Impact. Village Voice 3 January
1984: 47.
232
politicians while only he, omniscient, committed, and courageous, re
mains to uphold justice.
Adhering to a proven formula, Sudden Impact incorporates a sim
ilar structure and many of the familiar devices popularized by Dirty Harry
and its sequels. Antagonists include street punks, mob assassins, and
repulsive sociopaths whose ultimate eradication often demands the im
plementation of a fascinating new weapon of immense power. This time
the inspector fingers a deadly .44 Magnum automatic. The familiar
theme of Harry-as-cultural-anachronism also reappears several times in
the film. Listening to his no nonsense attitude toward crime, a sympa
thetic Jennifer Spencer labels Harry “an endangered species." Equally
unimpressed is Captain Briggs, the inspector’s outraged superior who
denounces Harry as a “ dinosaur” whose “ideas don’t fit today.” “It's a
whole new ball game,” he explains, to which a disgusted Harry coun
ters, “I never thought of it as a game!”
In keeping with another recurring feature of the series, Sudden
Impact opens with the first of several brutal murders that Callahan must
solve. Before he begins, however, Harry stumbles upon a major felony
in progress and disrupts it with swift finality. At the close of the customary
shoot out, he delivers a memorable line which will resurface at the film’s
climax. If for no other reason, Sudden Impact will be remembered for a
phrase that has since become the most famous, and infamous, of all
Eastwood quotations and is now thoroughly identified with the actor. As
Harry extends his huge revolver into the face of a cornered but armed
bandit, he invites the man to do anything that might justify his pulling the
233
trigger. “Go ahead,” he implores the bandit, “make my day.” Other series
consistencies include yet another partner’s violent death, Harry’s usual
array of callous insults (“ you're a legend in your own mind”), revenge as
the central motivation, and the ongoing denunciations of government’s
unwillingness to assume responsibility for the protection of its citizenry.
Wherever Harry goes in San Francisco, violence erupts. If he is
not pursuing thugs, they are chasing him. He spends much of his off-duty
time thwarting designs on his life by vindictive hoods and syndicate
killers. After three young assailants die in one such attempt, Harry’s
flustered boss orders this “ walkin’, friggin’ combat zone” to leave The
City for a few weeks vacation. Although displeased as usual, Harry
agrees and heads for San Paulo to relax and maintain a low profile. He
also intends to check the background of George Wilburn, a local man re
cently found murdered in San Francisco.
Many classic detective stories open with a routine investigation
that progressively uncovers an intricate web of corruption, crime, and
cover-up hidden beneath a facade of tranquil respectability. This struc
ture lends itself to the noir sensibility and Sudden Impact adheres to this
tradition. Shortly after Harry arrives, two men are killed in the same
grisly style that distinguished George Wilburn’s death. Two bullet
wounds, one in the head, the other in the groin, characterize each vic
tim’s body. In spite of stern warnings by San Paulo’s Chief Jannings to
stay out of the case, Harry launches his own probe into the murders.
During the course of the investigation, he is drawn to Jennifer
Spencer, a visiting artist commissioned “ to make old ugly things right
234
again” by restoring the town’s vintage carousel. Over drinks, they dis
cuss the murders and Harry attributes them to revenge, “ the oldest moti
vation known to man” and one with which he has no trouble “until it
breaks the law.” Jennifer’s is the voice of raging resentment against the
contemporary legal system in this “ age of lapsed responsibilities and
defeated justice. Today an eye for an eye means only if you’re caught
and even then it’s an indefinite postponement and ‘let’s settle out of
court.’” Harry soon discovers that she is also the avenging angel of
death, well on her way to killing those responsible for the brutal gang
rape she and her sister suffered ten years earlier.
The past’s relentless intervention into the present typifies film
noir. Unrequited passions and unpunished crimes erode everyone they
touch, undermining society until they resurface uncontrollably to create a
crisis whose resolution is inevitably tragic. Jennifer’s violators escaped
punishment because Chief Jannings’ son, Alby, was among them. As a
powerful official, the chief pulled the requisite strings to cover up the
crime. With Jennifer’s return, however, he realizes that he too must now
face the consequences of his son's involvement and of his own corrup
tion.
Yet he has already suffered immeasurably from this deception.
Unable to handle the guilt, Alby survived a suicide attempt only to be left
brain damaged and confined to a wheel chair. Over the years, Jannings
has also protected Mick, another of the rapists, from prosecution. A
sadistic psychopath reminiscent of Charles Manson, Mick lives off the
money he blackmails from the chief. Finally, Jannings is haunted by this
235
debilitating guilt and the constant fear that the entire sordid story will see
the light of day. Jennifer’s reappearance and Harry’s dogged pursuit for
answers have brought the past crashing in upon him as well as upon
the perpetrators themselves.
In numerous films, Eastwood’s hero emerges triumphant only af
ter sustaining a vicious beating at the hands of his antagonists. This
time Mick and his two henchmen emerge out of the night to surprise
Harry. He survives only because he is left for dead after being kicked
through a pier railing and tumbling into the ocean. From there, Mick pro
ceeds to kill Jannings and capture Jennifer. With his former victim in
tow, he leads them to the site of the original crime with the perverse in
tention of repeating the outrage. Fighting for her life, Jennifer manages
to escape to the boardwalk and hide temporarily in the carousel. By the
time Mick and the others track her down, Harry dramatically reappears,
armed with his new Magnum automatic. He summarily guns down the
henchmen and pursues the fleeing psychopath and his hostage. Cor
nering them atop the roller coaster, Harry looks for the opening to once
again “make my day.” When Jennifer distracts her captor, he finds it and
shoots Mick repeatedly. His falling body crashes through the carousel
building’s skylight where it finally rests, impaled on the horn of the merry-
go-round’s unicorn.
Harry waits with Jennifer as the police, with the news media in tow,
complete their investigation. “What now?” she asks scornfully. “ Are you
going to read me my rights? What exactly are my rights? And where was
all this concern for my rights when I was beaten and mauled? And what
236
about my sister’s rights when she was being brutalized? There is a thing
called justice and was it justice that they should all just walk away?
That’s something you’ll never understand, Callahan.” She turns away
as a young officer shows Harry the gun found on Mick’s body. It belongs
to Jennifer. Coolly, Harry directs him to “run it through ballistics. I think
you’ll find his gun there was used in all the killings.” “Then it's over?” the
officer asks. Eying Jennifer, Harry answers, “ Yea, it's over.” Convinced of
this and having conveniently shifted Jennifer’s responsibility to Mick,
Harry joins her and they walk away from the nightmare that has just
ended.
For one who still believes “murder is a crime and should be pun
ished,” Harry’s absolution of Jennifer comes as a surprising reversal.
Does Harry allow love to sway him from good judgment and profession
alism?1 6 What appears as a significant shift in priorities for Callahan is
really a reaffirmation of what has always been central for Eastwood’s he
roes and for this one in particular. Harry is a cop because he hates
criminals, not because he loves statutory law. He becomes his most dan
gerous when events suddenly ignite that hatred. Revenge has always
been a staple motivation for most of Eastwood’s characters and Harry is
certainly no exception. Throughout the series, Harry’s decisive action
springs from an obsession to settle the score with those who have
harmed a close friend and/or humiliated him. Harry claims to agree with
the legitimacy of revenge “until it breaks the law” but generally his ac
tions indicate a different understanding of law than this statement might
1 6 David Kehr, “ A Fistful of Eastwood: Ten Tapes to Make Your Day,”
American Film March 1985: 67.
237
immediately suggest. More often than not, he acts as judge, jury, and
executioner whenever the case assumes very personal dimensions.
Harry sets little store by the criminal justice system or its adminis
trators. Earlier, he defends his role in instigating a crime lord’s fatal heart
attack. Believing that “he would’ve just snaked his way out of [any indict
ment],” Harry has no regrets in having “saved the taxpayers a little
money.” He agrees with much of Jennifer’s scathing diatribe against
“lapsed responsibilities and defeated justice.” Having repeatedly experi
enced the system’s laxity and inefficiency, Harry’s decision to free Jen
nifer underscores his disillusionment with its dependability as a viable
social institution.
Finally, while his allowing her to walk away does compromise his
strict law-and-order reputation, it does so in a legal sense but not a
moral one. For the Eastwood persona, a greater priority than upholding
the law has always been a steadfast adherence to a personal moral
code. Time and again Harry has demonstrated that he is no stickler for
legal technicalities or platitudes. He follows his intuition and the dictates
of his conscience. By empathizing with the rage and frustration that
drove Jennifer to “make old dirty things right again,” Harry, in the tradition
of all Eastwood characters, lives by specifics, not abstract generaliza
tions. In this instance, he believes justice, if not the law, has been served
by her vigilantism. In other cases, he might not. Harry absolves Jennifer
because his conscience, far more than his heart, cannot allow her to be
punished for accomplishing with her own hands what a corrupt official
and an indifferent society would not touch.
238
Sudden Impact is certainly the most pessimistic of Clint East
wood’s films. After Dirtv Harrv raised the hackles on early Seventies so
cial sensitivities, Magnum Force and The Enforcer toned down his “dirt
ier” side and portrayed him as a less obsessive personality. Sudden Im
pact still finds him more relaxed but the dark milieu he inhabits scarcely
affords him the opportunity to lower his guard. He serves this world as
the sole force of moral resilience, once again assuming the role of Cal
vinist judge charged with punishing the wicked. While Harry lacks the
otherworldly trappings of several other Eastwood heroes, his omni
potence, omniscience, and indestructibility assume a quasi-supernatural
aura. Nowhere is this more blatant than in the film’s climax. Materializ
ing unexpectedly out of the night, Harry confronts Mick and his thugs from
the opposite end of the boardwalk. A black figure outlined by a shimmer
ing nimbus, Harry stands with gun extended, prepared to dispense immi
nent retribution.
It is a recurring image in Eastwood’s oeuvre with antecedents as
early as A Fistful of Dollars. Never, however, has Eastwood made the
image or the world in which it appears so unmistakably fantastic. That
he does so only underscores his understanding of the entire series of
Harry Callahan films. They are deliberately baroque and stilted, conjura
tions of a nightmare world. Sudden Impact, like its predecessors, de
nounces social apathy and injustice. It also rages against victims’ rights
violations but as a literal prescription for social ills the film is best under
stood as a work of fantasy and catharsis, of release and relief. To ascribe
to it any literal recommendations for such extreme courses of social ac
239
tion underestimates Eastwood’s intelligence and the sense of propor
tion that have characterized his entire career.
Sudden Impact reaffirmed Clint Eastwood’s tough guy image af
ter a number of lighter roles marked by comedy, sentimentality, and an
abiding faith in individuals and their dreams. Since the introduction of
Harry Callahan twelve years earlier, Eastwood’s reputation experienced
a major transformation. Exemplifying that change is the critical response
to Sudden Impact, a film far more violent and draconian in outlook than
Dirtv Harrv. Yet, as appalling as many critics found the film’s pessimism
and vigilante spirit, most had no problem distinguishing between East
wood the filmmaker, the generic conventions in which he was working,
and the character he was playing. One reason for this lies with the spate
of similar films which appeared after Dirtv Harrv. Excessively violent,
they too reflected anger and frustration with street crime as well as the
public’s move toward political and social conservatism.1 7 After the ap
pearance of these films amid the changing political climate, Harry did not
seem nearly as reactionary or as out of touch with public sympathies as
he did in 1971.
Furthermore, with Eastwood’s reputation as the respected film
maker of Bronco Billy and Honky Tonk Man. he could no longer simply
be dismissed as a man synonymous with the worst side of Harry. Many
critics finally began viewing the Harry films in much the same way that
1 7 John Vinocur, “Clint Eastwood, Seriously.” New York Times Maga
zine 24 February 1985: 24.
240
Eastwood had always understood them, as fantasies.1 8 The invincible
hero, the nasty one-dimensional villains, the ideological masking of
complex issues, and a convenient absence of real life complications cast
these films in the same light that Eastwood had perceived them from the
beginning. By this time, his reputation was too well-established for Sud
den Impact to be taken seriously as a social prescription much less the
apocalyptic vision of a squint-eyed reactionary. Eastwood had finally
won over the critical community to recognizing his merits as a filmmaker
if not to appreciating the mayhem, sordidness, and dangerous philoso
phical implications apparent in Sudden Impact.
IV. Iiflhtm Pfl(1984)
In discussing Clint Eastwood’s films as self-reflections on his
screen image, Richard Schickel has described the actor’s oeuvre as a
“ one-man genre.”1 9 Among the first to appreciate Eastwood as more
than a low-brow action star, Schickel has watched as other critics have
gradually followed his lead during the last decade. Their growing num
ber signals a significant departure from the deprecating dismissals of
Eastwood which dominated the late Sixties and early Seventies. Yet
what remains consistent throughout Eastwood’s rocky relationship with
the critical community is the centrality of the man himself as a controver
sial unit of meaning. Whether they exhibit admiration, condemnation, or
,s Sarris 47; and, David Denby, rev. of Sudden Impact. New York 16
January 1984: 62.
,B Richard Schickel, rev. of Tightrope. Time 27 August 1984: 64.
241
an uneasy ambivalence, critics recognize Eastwood as an intriguing fig
ure with inescapable cultural significance.
Once, when asked to pinpoint the distinctiveness of his films,
Eastwood answered half-kiddingly, ‘To me, what a Clint Eastwood pic
ture is, is one that I’m in.” 2 0 Irrespective of genre or the entertainment his
films generate, audiences and critics remain fascinated, if not always
enthralled, by the man and what he represents. It began soon after his
ascent to stardom and has only accelerated since then. Initially, this
stemmed from the widespread inability to distinguish man and image.
For many, Eastwood became synonymous with the violent, hardened
types he portrayed, men whose demeanor, behavior, and values
smacked dangerously of America’s less admirable past and the ugli
ness of its reactionary present. Still, there remained a certain captiva
tion with the man and what he signified, even for those who found East
wood an affront to their social and political sensibilities.2 1
Hints of revisionism appeared during the middle Seventies with
the release of The Outlaw Josey Wales and gathered further momentum
with his most gentle efforts, Bronco Billv and Honkvtonk Man. Through
out, however, Eastwood’s image remained central. What increasingly in
trigued so many was the filmmaker’s apparent interrogation of the tough
guy persona that made and perpetuated his popularity. For a critical
community predominantly Eastern, urban, and liberal, Eastwood’s vio
2 0 Johnstone 138.
2 1 Andrew Sarris, rev. of The Enforcer. Village Voice. 24 January
1977: 69.
242
lent characters, especially Harry Callahan, had always presented seri
ous problems. Coupled with the bitter legal and political controversies
he incited, Harry’s potential as a masculine role model fueled the fires of
the feminist critique. For its sympathizers, Eastwood/Harry glorifies, cel
ebrates, and thus reinforces the worst elements of the traditional patriar
chal paradigm-physical strength and domination, repressed emotional
sensitivity, and an individualism that discourages social intimacy.2 2 In
other words, even without his gun, Harry is viewed as neither a psycho
logically nor a socially healthy role model for men to emulate. Since
many of Eastwood’s heroes stand within the shadow of this profile, his
films predictably antagonize those most repulsed by this perpetual no
tion of masculinity.
Several factors account for the critical turnabout of the middle
Eighties. A growing recognition and appreciation of Eastwood’s skills as
a director is certainly an important one. The swing in cultural values as
manifested by Reagan conservatism is another. The paramount reason,
however, lies with Eastwood’s frequent explorations into self-reflexivity,
especially with a patriarchal image that many critics found so offensive.
They liked Ben Shockley, Bronco Billy McCoy, and Red Stovall-flawed,
vulnerable, yet principled men who added depth, humanity, and sensi
tivity to Eastwood’s image.
Still, lurking behind these characters was the towering figure of
Harry Callahan. His return in Sudden Impact demonstrated that East
wood never forsook the inspector. He allowed this most famous, and in
2 2 Joan Mellan. Big Bad Wolves: Masculinity in the American Film
(New York: Pantheon Books, 1977) 294-301.
243
famous, of characters to remain triumphantly in tact. Unless one mistak
enly chooses to view the entire film as an immense parody, Eastwood
cannot be said to crack Harry's tough shell with clear insinuations of
dark dimensions boiling beneath it. After a decade of condemning Harry
for a multitude of political and psychological deficiencies, critics were
anxious for Eastwood to explore them.2 3 To this point, however, Harry re
mained sacrosanct, untouched by Eastwood’s self-reflexive probing.
This last obstacle collapsed following the release of Tightrope. Its
glowing reception, similar to those given Bronco Billv and Honkvtonk
Man. suddenly garnered accolades for Eastwood which were once un
imaginable. As another pivotal film in his career. Tightrope completed
the critical about-face that began with The Outlaw Josev Wales. What
precipitated this surprising change was the perception that at long last
Eastwood was finally interrogating Harry Callahan.
His character is Wes Block, another homicide detective on the trail
of a sadistic serial killer. Unlike the taciturn Harry, however, Block re
veals psychosexual problems that undermine his professional compet
ence. Left by his wife to raise two young daughters, Wes spends his
off-hours either as an attentive, loving father or as an ambivalent patron
of prostitutes specializing in less reputable forms of sexual gratification.
Block’s pursuit of the killer gradually becomes a shattering journey of
self-discovery. The closer he gets to the murderer’s identity, the more he
cannot avoid facing the demons within his own soul. Block is after a
man who is taking after him, both in seeking to destroy the detective and
2 3 Thomson 65.
244
in sharing the same psychological profile. His victims are all prostitutes
Block knows intimately; he favors the same sadomasochistic rituals that
Block enjoys; and he invariably handcuffs the women as Block insists
upon doing. Each new murder leads Block deeper into the devastating
implications of his own dark side. In the end, Block survives a decisive,
bloody battle that finds him literally wrestling his alter ego to death. He
emerges battered but triumphant, purged by this harrowing ordeal of
self-revelation. The film closes with guarded optimism. Block’s willing
ness to risk trusting another woman moves him forward in a relationship
that gives every indication of eventually developing into a mature, loving
one.
Critics also lauded Eastwood for his risk-taking, for “a rather start
ling descent from the mythical to the pathetically human, from avenger
to victim.” 2 4 He had played flawed individuals before, but never had
those shortcomings been so twisted, uncontrollable, and potentially de
monic. Again, Eastwood was playing a character who was a far cry from
the indomitable Harry Callahan. Or was he really? The prevailing re
sponse identified Wes Block as merely a thinly disguised Harry. That is
what generated the critical excitement. Eastwood had played against
type before but never had he “ dared to play into type, to bring to the sur
face certain disturbing aspects of his Dirty Harry character. . . in acknowl
edging the secret pathology of his basic screen character: cruel, domina
ting, sexist.”2 5
2 4 David Denby, rev. of Tight rope. New York 27 August 1984: 112.
2 5 Schickel 64.
245
If Clint Eastwood were to design a film expressly to soften the
scowls of his detractors, it would be difficult to fashion a more strategic
one than Tightrope. Its themes and timing could not have been more op
portune. Once the less than precarious leap is made in identifying Wes
Block with Harry Callahan, the film generates a spate of provocative
speculation and discussion about Eastwood and his most famous char
acter. For those commentators immersed, either perennially or tempo
rarily, in issues of gender, sexuality, and patriarchy, Tightrope not only
played directly to their concerns but did so in a way that most found quite
satisfying. Its depiction of Eastwood, “Hollywood’s major male icon-Mr.
America incarnate,” 2 6 as a man racked by serious psychological prob
lems, particularly in relating to women, was welcomed as long overdue.
The evenings Wes Block spends “looking for love” lead inevitably
to sordid encounters of manufactured eroticism and brutality. Afraid to
risk trusting and opening himself to women, his sense of virility comes
about only through his control over them, either dominating them physi
cally or keeping them at an emotional distance through suggestive rep
artee and impersonal sexual rituals. Interpreted as Eastwood’s interro
gation of Harry Callahan and his other taciturn loners, Tiohtrope pro
vides a wealth of material for those anxious to critique patriarchy’s mas
culine paradigm which Eastwood has long represented. Beneath their
hardened exteriors beat the hearts of lonely men too scared to relate to
the world in any other way but to dominate it or distance themselves from
it. Tightrope, then, can be seen as Eastwood’s most radical self-interro
2 6 J. Hoberman, rev. of Tiohtrope. Village Voice 28 August 1984: 45.
246
gation of his screen persona. In the guise of Wes Block, Harry Callahan,
lingering forcefully as one of the contemporary cinema’s most powerful
patriarchal figures, is painted as the dangerously troubled, borderline
psychopath whom his critics had always believed him to be.
Because of Eastwood’s status as a long-standing model of patri
archal values, it comes as no surprise when he is attacked in sexist
terms. Judging by the female characters in his films, however, that
evaluation denies the realities of most of Eastwood’s work. When other
directors were exploiting women in third-rate roles or as mere window
dressing, Eastwood was building a gallery of strong women with formi
dable depth and character. Tom Stempel went so far as to call him “ the
most important and influential (because of the size of his audience) femi
nist film maker in America today.”2 7 One can complain about the lack of
idealism in Stempel understanding of “ feminist,” 2 8 but Eastwood’s wo
men are generally tough, principled, and independent. Some may be
murderers, but most display the same resilience and self-determination
that Eastwood prizes in his men. Tightrope’s Beryl Thibodeaux certainly
answers this description. It is Beryl’s wisdom, tenacity, and her relation
ship with Block that imparts to the film another dimension that speaks
positively to feminists’ concerns and aspirations for the cinema.
Intelligent, assertive, and concerned, Beryl heads a rape preven
tion center where she counsels victims and teaches self-defense classes.
2 7 Tom Stempel, “Let’s Hear It for Eastwood’s ‘Strong Women,”’ Los
Anaeles Times 11 March 1984 Calendar: 5.
2 8 Nancy Webber, “ What Eastwood Preaches Isn’t Feminism,” Los An
aeles Times 1 April 1984, Calendar: 24.
She also serves the city as a persistent feminist gadfly, endeavoring to
raise the consciousness and the consciences of politicians and police to
those issues involving women’s rights and safety. Beryl meets Block
shortly after the second prostitute is murdered. They take an instant dis
like to each other. He finds her shrill and pushy; she is put off by his pa
tronizing chauvinism. As his frustration with the case increases, Wes
turns to Beryl’s expertise in hopes of gaining an insight into the killer's
mind. Attracted by her intelligence and good looks, he takes little time in
pursuing her romantically.
Beryl, however, is too wise to enter a superficial relationship with
a man she recognizes as having serious problems. Wes intrigues her
but she has little patience with his flirtatious musings. “I’d like to find out
what’s underneath the front you put on,” she tells him. (Significantly, it is
the identical inquiry Eastwood has faced since his fame began.) When
he warns her, “maybe you wouldn’t like it,” Beryl retorts, “maybe you’re
sacred I would.” Beryl is a feminist typically impatient with the deception
and lack of substance she finds in relationships. She is curious about
Wes, finds herself beginning to care for him, but her self-respect and ex
perience enable her to keep their relationship headed in a direction that
requires honesty and commitment. Wary of the consequences of both
and unaccustomed as he is to women such as Beryl, Wes has yet to
reach the level of trust and openness she demands.
As a professional counselor, Beryl has far more insight into Wes’
problems than he does. She learns about his liaisons with prostitutes
and his failed marriage. She also discovers his need to handcuff his
248
lovers. Rhetorically but gently, Beryl inquires about them. He uses them
for control, Wes answers, to keep people from getting “ too close.” This
theme, the necessity of staving off interpersonal intimacy for the purpose
of self-protection, surfaces repeatedly throughout Tiohtrope. When Beryl
reaches for his face in genuine tenderness, Wes confirms his guarded
ness. He recoils slightly. Although drawn to her, he maintains his dis
tance for fear of being hurt.
As the murders continue and the pressure on Block to stop them
mushrooms, Beryl and Wes grow closer. Never, however, do they sleep
together. She continues to set the tone of the relationship, to keep it car
ing as it also grows progressively deeper. Beryl is too aware of the psy
chological crises Wes is enduring to allow their relationship to change
direction at this time. Only at the film’s conclusion, after they have each
weathered the killer’s attacks, does Wes respond to her offer of genuine
intimacy. This time he does allow her to touch his cheek. Beryl enables
Wes to overcome the barriers that separated him from himself and oth
ers. She provides the trust, wisdom, and strength that support him
through his desperate ordeal. It is another instance, and unquestionably
the most intense, of an Eastwood hero conquering his personal battles
within the context and through a loving relationship. That he does so
with such a strong woman, and such a feminist at that, is yet another
reason why many critics received Tiohtrope so favorably.
Eastwood sees Wes Block and Harry Callahan as quite different
characters. And while he admits that he enjoys the chances to play
against type, Eastwood disavows any conscious intention of interrogating
249
his image.2 9 In spite of such protestations, his screen persona is too
laden with cultural significance to escape becoming the central focus in
most serious discussions of his work. Tiohtrope elevated Clint Eastwood
to a unprecedented level of critical appreciation precisely because a ma
jority of influential commentators interpreted it as an intensely intimate
interrogation by Eastwood of his tough guy image. “So personal” did one
reviewer find this self-revelation that she believed “Eastwood couldn’t
sign it” and attributed directorial credit to screenwriter Richard Tuggle.3 0
Some of Eastwood’s detractors had secretly appreciated him
over the years but could not admit to it publicly for fear of intellectual os
tracism.3 1 After all, Eastwood’s recurring bogeyman, Harry Callahan, set
off a chain reaction of gnashing liberal teeth whenever he reappeared. If
Harry kept Eastwood’s admirers reticent to come forward, Tiohtrope of-
fered them the excuse finally to come out of the closet. It also disarmed
many who had dismissed him from the beginning as a mindless cham
pion of patriarchal ideology. Quite to their surprise, a Clint Eastwood film
appeared that dissected his macho image in psychosexual categories
and mirrored the feminist critic of patriarchy. Its message was not
wasted. Critics liked seeing Harry Callahan finally revealed as the
troubled man they knew him to be. And they liked Eastwood’s doing it.
Additionally, Eastwood’s usual celebration of rugged individualism and
2 9 Thomson 66.
3 0 Hoberman 45.
3 1 Tim Cahill, “ Clint Eastwood: The Rolling Stone Interview.” Rolling
Stone 4 July 1985: 20.
250
its corollaries were conspicuously absent. That, too, did not go unno
ticed.
With this film, Eastwood the filmmaker attained philosophical ac
ceptability and professional respectability among a majority within the
critical community. “I’ve resisted Clint Eastwood for years, but it's time to
stop making jokes,” wrote David Denby. He makes movies.. Directs
them, produces them, stars in them. More and more, he’s beginning to
look like the last serious man in Hollywood.” 3 2 Another extolled him as “a
star with a masked propensity for playing with and against his highly de
veloped image . .. surely the most thoughtful actor-autuer since, say,
Jerry Lewis.”3 3 With this typical of the unexpected praise he received
with Tightrope. Eastwood had inadvertently hurdled the last obstacle to
critical recognition. He was now on his way toward receiving the cinema
tic apotheosis reserved for the great legends of the screen.
3 2 Denby, rev. of Tightrope: 112.
3 3 Hoberman 45.
251
Chapter Nine
Clint Eastwood: The Image (VI)
I. Citv Heat (1984)
If Tightrope is a thinly masked yet shattering interrogation of Clint
Eastwood’s screen persona, then Citv Heat is a blatant yet affectionate
self-parody of that same image. David Thomson claims that “Eastwood
can be ironic about his act, but he keeps going back to it,”1 and this
comedy allows him to do both simultaneously. Any resemblance be
tween Harry Callahan and this 1933 version, Lieutenant Speer of the
Kansas City police, is unquestionably intentional. Violent, tenacious,
and invincible, Speer’s summary handling of thugs would make Harry
proud. Actually, it is so reminiscent of Harry and so self-consciously
overdone that it satirizes those very qualities that typically endears Har
ry/Eastwood to audiences.
This interrogation, however, is decidedly different from Tightrope’s
introspective soul searching. Eastwood pokes fun at himself but not so
much so that he alienates his following; Speer is no foolish bumbler. Be
cause the spoofing falls short of total farce, Eastwood can toy with his
1 David Thomson, “ Cop on a Hot Tiohtrope.” Film Comment Septem-
ber-October 1984: 65.
252
image and still perpetuate his tough guy reputation. By placing this lat
est variation of Harry in a world of cartoon violence and sporadic slap
stick, Citv Heat reconfirms Eastwood’s understanding of Callahan as a
fantasy figure whose excesses he takes neither literally nor too seriously.
Playing opposite Eastwood and with his image is Burt Reynolds.
“Smugly confirmed in his Cary Grant irresponsibility-with-charm per
sona,” 2 Reynolds portrays Mike Murphy, Speer’s former partner on the
force, but now a down-at-the-heels private investigator. In a love-hate
relationship typical of screwball comedies, Speer and Murphy constantly
go at each other. Murphy rides Speer incessantly with insults. The lieu
tenant counters by watching nonchalantly as Murphy frantically attempts
to extricate himself from his frequent jams. Only when a stray bullet or an
inadvertent fist comes his way does Speer maniacally enter the fray.
Contorting “his face into a comically wild-eyed version of his usual
squint,”3 Eastwood metamorphasizes into his familiar avenging angel,
wrecking havoc on anyone who has dared to threaten or insult him.
From the perspective of this dissertation, the most significant as
pect of Citv Heat is the array of insults which Murphy hurls at Speer.
Close examination reveals that they invariably encapsulate those more
scathing denunciations of Eastwood which critics have heaped upon
him. By gently mocking them, the film satirizes not only Eastwood and
Reynolds. It treats the former’s detractors--their polemics, solemnity, and
2 Richard Combs, rev. of City. Heat, Mon th ly . E ilm Bulletin, March 1985:
80.
3 Janet Maslin, “Benjamin Directs City Heat.” rev. of Citv Heat. New
York Times 7 December 1984: C4. *
253
self-seriousness-with the same tongue-in-cheek frivolity as it does its
stars’ images. Citv Heat, through Mike Murphy’s barbed one-liners, of
fers an extensive sampling of the most ubiquitous condemnations of
Eastwood. To listen to Murphy is to hear a comic recapitulation of the
string of critical attacks and personal animosities that Eastwood had
grown to expect since he became a star twenty years earlier.
References to Eastwood as primitive, animalistic, and anachronis
tic run throughout the film. When he first sees Speer, Murphy quips,
"Hey, somebody left the cage door open. It’s out. What’s the occasion?”
After a confrontation, he warns, “I’m gonna knock you back into the Stone
Age where you came from!” Wondering aloud why Speer has punched
him, Murphy mutters, “Don’t tell me why you hit me. Let me guess. They
took the tire out of your cage and you’re peeved.” Finally, in the closing
scene, as the two prepare to square off in their long awaited fistfight,
Murphy calls him “ape face” and informs Speer that “I looked ‘Neander
thal’ up in the dictionary. There was a picture of you.”
Closely linked to this is Eastwood’s image among critics as anti
intellectual. He, his work, and his stereotyped audience have seldom
been accused of nurturing rational discourse or exploring life’s ambigui
ties. Most often, his films have been scorned for a simplistic immediacy
in their depiction and resolution of social problems. Their alleged mind
lessness rides roughshod over life’s inherent complexity. Murphy harps
upon this low-brow dimension of Eastwood’s image when he marvels,
“ Who dialed the phone for you, Speer?” and later informs his friend that
“ They wrote a song about you-'Brother, Can You Spare a Brain?”’
254
Two references to Harry Callahan’s obsessive dedication to his
job appear twice. On a date with Speer, Addy, Murphy’s secretary, real
izes that he is using her as a cover while shadowing a suspect. Vexed,
she asks, “Is this what you are seven days a week?” The second occurs
in a scene reminiscent of Harry’s confrontation with Briggs in Sudden
Impact. When Speer surprises Murphy with his cold, strong-arm tactics,
the latter chides him, “ You really push, don’t you, Speer?!” Squinting
above his gritted teeth, Speer thrusts his face into Murphy’s and growls,
“ That's how you do the job, remember?”
One quality that audiences find especially endearing about
Harry Callahan is his invulnerability. Amidst the flurry of bullets and at
tempts on his life, Harry remains invincible and seemingly impervious to
serious injury. That he emerges triumphant, often against overwhelming
odds has not escaped critical derision. One of Citv Heat’s most elabo
rate sequences satirizes this feature of the Callahan films. When the hit
men of two rival gangsters track down Murphy at the same time, he finds
himself caught in the middle of a tremendous gun battle. So intense is
the fire that he can only stumble from one cover to the next. Having
reached momentary safety behind a car, he glances up to discover an
amused Speer parked nearby, calmly watching his friend’s desperate an
tics.
No sooner does a bullet pierce his windshield than Speer loses
his smile. He turns into a man possessed. Bolting out of his car, he
grabs a shotgun from the backseat and strides fearlessly toward the firing
255
gunmen. Murphy watches his resolute friend in amazement, heckling
sarcastically as many a critic might, “Oh, I’ve been doing it all wrong. I’ve
been hiding. You just walk down the middle of the street, huh?” Much
like a beginner naively giving advice to a hardened professional, Murphy
adds, “There’s two guys down there on the right. There’re two guys down
there on the left. Four guys down there altogether.” It is delivered as a
mere afterthought for Murphy quickly realizes how unnecessary his help
is: when Speer goes into action, no odds are too formidable for this om
niscient and invincible fighting machine.
This obvious toying with Harry’s image is underscored by Speer’s
violent disposal of the gunmen. When two attempt an escape in a
speeding car, he shoots them through the windshield just as Callahan
did when he dispatched the bank robbers in Dirtv Harrv. That the runa
way car strikes a water hydrant sending a geyser into the air further paro
dies the same shootout. Finally, when Speer fires buckshot into the
pants of a fleeing gangster, it clearly recalls the liquor store gun battle
that opens The Enforcer. The difference lies in the way each thug re
sponds. The former performs a classic slapstick leap, grabs his backside,
and dashes away down the street. In The Enforcer, the wounded man
reaches for his groin and collapses down the stairs in excruciating pain.
Rich in nuances and familiar images, this sequence alone qualifies Citv
Heat as a satirical salute to Eastwood’s most famous character.
Another humorous dig at Eastwood and his critics is Murphy’s
running admonition “not to kill anybody.” When he and Speer set out to
rescue his kidnapped girlfriend from a gangster’s hideout, Murphy corn-
256
plains, “How we gonna find her if you keep shooting the bums? .. . Don’t
kill anybody. Let me say this to you one more time: Don’t kill anybody.”
As they make their plans to enter the building, Murphy reiterates, “Now,
we’re not going to shoot anybody until Caroline’s all right, okay? . . .
Let’s not kill anybody until we get Caroline, okay?” Murphy is playing the
nervous parent to Speer’s unpredictable problem child. He begins by
prohibiting Speer altogether only to offer him some leeway if he will only
behave himself for a little while longer. Famous for his fast trigger finger
and the trail of dead men his characters leave in their wake, Eastwood’s
propensity for killing is treated jokingly here as an incorrigibly bad habit
that is inappropriate for the occasion.
Following the critical excitement generated by Tightrope, it comes
as no surprise to hear Murphy echo a standard estimation of Eastwood
frequently propounded by feminist critics. After threatening his old part
ner, Speer hears a familiar assessment of the Eastwood persona.
“ You’re so insecure,” shouts Murphy, “it’s unbelievable!” Another se
quence delights in playing with the phallic imagery so often privileged in
discussions of Eastwood’s films. During a gun battle, Murphy runs out of
ammunition and reaches into his coat for a larger pistol. Speer does the
same but his is bigger. Moments later, Murphy pulls out an even larger
one only to watch in frustration as Speer draws one with a twelve-inch
barrel. Much has been made of the phallic symbolism in Eastwood’s
work, especially Harry’s choice of a .44 Magnum. Satirizing Eastwood’s
penchant for powerful weaponry, Citv Heat also spoofs those who em
phasize the centrality of its psychoanalytic significance.
257
Throughout Citv Heat. Speer reacts with mild amusement to Mur
phy’s insults, never allowing them to overly concern him. His response is
very much akin to Eastwood's handling of the critical barrage that has
accompanied him throughout most of his career. When Speer is allowed
a moment of self-reflection at the end of the film, it becomes one of Citv
Heat’s finest moments of self-parody. Seated at a piano and dressed
stylishly with Addy by his side, Speer joins the night club’s big band in a
rendition of “Get Happy.” This is in marked contrast to the violent, drably
dressed cop whose intensity seems to preclude this peaceful demeanor
and gentle refinement.
Before long the wisecracking Murphy begins a fight and eventu
ally tangles with the club’s gigantic bouncer. Speer simply continues
playing and smiles knowingly at Addy. Watching Murphy get the worst of
it, she implores, “ Aren’t you gonna help him?” In hushed Eastwoodian
tones, Speer explains, “I abhor violence.” Seconds later when cham
pagne spills on his trousers, the tranquil pianist is suddenly transformed
into the squinting, twitching Speer, who fanatically plunges into the me
lee. It is a perfect instance of Eastwood’s being “ ironic about his act and
still going back to it.” Yet here he has taken self-reflexivity a step farther
by quite consciously acknowledging his tough guy image, its frequent
absurdity, and his propensity to perpetuate it in spite of his recognition
that it is glaringly problematic.
Not surprisingly, Eastwood’s parody of his image in Citv Heat did
not generate the same critical excitement as Tiohtrope. Its slapstick and
258
considerable violence might go a long way toward explaining this.4 Nev
ertheless, Citv Heat confirmed once again Eastwood’s keen self-aware
ness. It demonstrated that he was not above spoofing his persona in
much the same way that he had willingly demythologized it in Tiohtrope.
Citv Heat serves as a convenient, light-hearted waystation between the
rigors of Tiohtrope and Eastwood’s triumphant return to the western in
Pale Rider. Falling in the valley between these two significant peaks,
Citv Heat is best remembered as Eastwood’s current release at the time
of his triumphant European tour. It has since been overshadowed by the
array of awards, tributes, and accolades that marked the completion of
Eastwood’s prolonged transformation from dangerous Philistine to intel
lectually chic auteur.
II. Pale Rider (1985^
Clint Eastwood had not made a western in nearly a decade. While
many critics wondered whether the genre might well have become
passe, Eastwood demonstrated its fundamental power and popularity
with this “ fond glance back at a slice of the past worth treasuring."5 Self
consciously incorporating the structure and motifs of the classic western
Shane (1953), Pale Rider is Eastwood’s homage to the genre that made
4 David Denby, rev. of Citv Heat. New York 10 December 1984: 95;
Kevin Thomas, rev. of Citv Heat. Los Angeles Times 7 December 1984,
pt. 6:10.
5 Michael Wilmington, rev. of Pale Rider. Los Angeles Times 28 June
1985, Calendar: 1.
259
him a star.6 Yet there is more going on here than merely a nostalgic tri
bute. With its traditions, conventions, and inherent thematic possibilities,
the western lends itself quite aptly to several of Eastwood’s most persis
tent concerns. Additionally, it provides a generic context for tracing
Eastwood’s evolving perspective on them. More specifically, Pale Rider
reveals striking similarities and differences with his earlier films. Merely
those it shares with High Plains Drifter readily invites intertextual consid
erations. Pale Rider reprises many of Eastwood’s familiar themes and
reveals his keen self-reflexivity toward their development over the years.
Eastwood returns for perhaps the final time as the apocalyptic
horseman. The most obvious similarity this lone rider shares with High
Plains Drifter’s is that each is literally otherworldly. As the ghost of mur
dered sheriff Jim Duncan, Drifter’s mysterious Stranger returns to wreck
vengeance on the greedy, cowardly townsfolk of Lago and on the men
who killed him. Pale Rider’s Preacher is also on a mission of retribution,
out to settle an old score with a corrupt marshal who shot him in the back.
Both supernatural characters are omniscient, invincible, and remote from
the normal cares of mortal men. They also share an unwillingness to re
veal the secrets about their true identities, leaving unanswered the per
petual question “who are you?”
The superhuman quality of these mythological gunfighters as
sumes an even greater mystical aura in Pale Rider than it does in the
earlier film. Although their haphazard inconsistencies might confound
theologians, biblical references and religious allusions permeate the film.
6 Andrew Sarris, rev. of Pale Rider. Village Voice 2 July 1985: 61.
260
Yet they are intended to incite awe and wonder rather than scholastic
hairsplitting. Infusing Pale Rider with transcendent imagery and lan
guage only makes the Preacher and his mission that much more mysteri
ous. That it defies logical categories further suggests that the audience is
witness to an inscrutable, divine drama that neither they nor the film’s
mortal characters truly comprehend. Hardly a religious tract, Pale Rider
muddles scripture, theology, and mythology for the emotional impact
these spheres conjure up, for the experience itself rather than a medita
tion upon it. It is a sterling example of Eastwood the director combining
his penchant for mystery with his conception of the cinema as foremost a
medium of immediacy and feeling.
In praying for a miracle, fourteen year-old Megan Wheeler, like
the Psalmist, “lifts [her] eyes unto the hills from whence comest [her]
help.” She looks off to the dark, majestic mountains that surround her
threatened mining colony. It is a region long identified in mythology with
deities and their remarkable epiphanies into human history. From this
sacred realm descends a lone rider, galloping across the snowy slopes
as Megan recites theTwenty-Third Psalm. Later, astride his gray horse,
he enters the mining camp accompanied by her reading aloud from the
Book of Revelation. “And behold, a pale horse and his name that sat on
him was Death.” While she and her mother stare curiously at his silhou
ette against the cloudy, ominous sky, Megan concludes the prophetic
verse, “and Hell followed with him.”
This portentous line is reminiscent of The Outlaw Josev Wales’
Lone Waite whispering to Granny, “ Get ready, little lady, Hell is coming
261
to breakfast.” It announces Josey Wales’ impending destruction of the
vile Commancheros. Similarly, the biblical reference to the Fourth
Horseman of the Apocalypse establishes the context for this tale of ven
geance which is about to unfold. Furthermore, it testifies to Eastwood’s
perpetual fascination with this figure of divine retribution. While Pale
Rider demonstrates Eastwood’s mellowing in certain areas, it accentu
ates the undiminished intensity and emphasis of his moral vision. The
avenging angel of Old Testament justice, thoroughness, and finality is as
evident here as it has been throughout Eastwood’s oeuvre .
Much of the film’s “ jumbled mysticism” 7 lies with Eastwood’s pau
city of background and sophistication in religious studies. Nevertheless,
as an admitted non-specialist on the Bible, he remains quite fascinated
by the correspondence between Biblical myths and those operative in
the western.8 The confusion that occasionally arises over such issues,
however, does not diminish the film’s supernatural ambience nor the fact
that Pale Rider lends itself quite readily to theological speculation. Jack
Nachbar identifies Eastwood as “ the last American puritan” and certainly
the perpetual resurfacing in various guises of his Calvinist judge lends
support to that description.9 High Plains Drifter, of course, is the most
obvious example.
7 Richard Combs, rev, of Pale Rider. Monthly Film Bulletin August
1985: 239.
8 Michael Henry, “Entretien avec Clint Eastwood sur Pale Rider.”
Positif. n. 295, September 1985: 40.
9 David Ansen, Gerald Lubenow, and Peter McAlevey, “ Clint: An
American Icon.” Newsweek 22 July 1985: 52.
262
Yet Pale Rider’s theology, for all its questionable spiritual eclecti
cism, far exceeds the one-dimensional simplicity of the earlier film.
While its divine retribution echoes Drifter’s. Pale Rider introduces an ele
ment of divine grace as well. The Preacher has entered human history to
save as well as to punish. Through him, the miners discover within them
selves the courage and determination to preserve their colony against
the designs of robber baron Coy LaHood. Enabled by the Preacher’s
presence and example, they reaffirm their identities and their ideals,
overcome their fears, and discover a personal and communal strength
previously unknown to them.
The struggle between the “ tin pans” and LaHood is modeled after
that between the “sod busters” and the ranchers in Shane. Megan’s in
fatuation with the Preacher and her mother’s love for him likewise find
their inspiration in Joey’s and Marian’s feelings for the professional gun
man. Significantly, however. Pale Rider establishes its distinctiveness
from Shane and other classic westerns by presenting LaHood and the
miners as unwitting supporting players in a higher metaphysical drama.
Despite its apparent centrality, their struggle serves mostly as a catalyst,
an excuse perhaps, for setting in motion the Preacher’s mission of retri
bution against his killer, Marshal Stockburn.
When the Preacher revives the dreams and broken spirits of the
disheartened miners, LaHood realizes that more extreme measures are
necessary to drive them from their settlement in Carbon Canyon. Without
the Preacher’s sudden intercession, LaHood would soon have broken
their resistance, acquired their claims by default, and never resorted to
263
hiring professional gunmen. As dissimilar as the two films may seem,
Pale Rider is not too far removed from The Exorcist (1973). In that fa
mous horror film, the demon possesses an innocent girl explicitly to pro
voke a final confrontation with its old nemesis, Father Marrin. Regan, her
mother, and Father Karras are merely pawns in a larger, transcendent
drama of which they are only dimly aware. The same can be said of
LaHood and the miners. Richard Combs implied as much when he won
dered if the Preacher was not merely an agent provaca-teur, an enig
matic figure manipulating people and events for the express purpose of
bringing himself face-to-face with Stockburn.1 0
Eastwood’s attitude toward community has evolved considerably
since the cynical misanthropy of High Plains Drifter. What distinguishes
the miners from the citizens of Lago are their values and character. In
spired by the Preacher, their gutsy spokesman Hull Barrett rallies the
community to resist LaHood’s hired guns. His courage and commitment
stand in sharp contrast to the people of Lago. “We’re miners,” he ex
plains, “ so we dig and pan and break our backs for gold but gold’s not
what we’re about.... I came out here to raise a family. This is my home.
This is my dream.... We owe ourselves more. If we sell out now, what
price do we put on our dignity next time?” Barrett and the others bravely
decide to resist evil rather than conveniently acquiescing to it.
This cardinal Eastwood virtue, essentially an extension of the prin
ciple of fidelity to one’s personal moral code, runs throughout his entire
body of work. It comes as no surprise to find it in Pale Rider as well.
1 0 Combs, rev. of Pale Rider. 239.
264
What is different, however, is that here it extends to a community rather
than simply to the individual. Society is no longer inherently corrupt or
incapable of moral action. In one of Eastwood’s rare moments of inspira
tional speechmaking, the Preacher describes the importance of interde
pendence for community survival. When cantankerous Spider Conway
takes his sons to town, Stockburn’s men mercilessly gun him down in
the street. Later in camp, the shaken miners gather around the mur
dered man’s body. Sensing their fear, the Preacher commends them for
their courageousness in deciding to fight LaHood. Spider’s fatal mistake,
Preacher explains, was in trying to take a stand against evil by himself.
“ A man alone is easy prey. . .. Only by standing together are you going to
beat the LaHood’s of the world.” This marks a noticeable shift in East
wood’s perspective toward society’s worth and it poses a serious interro
gation of the individual’s power to triumph single-handedly. It is also
particularly significant given Eastwood’s image as just that kind of invin
cible one-man army.
The film concludes with the Preacher’s riding into town alone to
face Stockburn, his deputies, and LaHood’s toughs. He dispatches all
methodically until he confronts his old enemy. Once face-to-face, Stock
burn startles at recognizing the man he once described to LaHood as
dead. “You! You!” he cries and reaches for his gun. The Preacher, in a
rite of ordained vengeance, ceremoniously shoots him six times in the
chest and once in the forehead. Taking it upon himself to wipe out these
villains single-handedly seemingly contradicts the Preacher’s earlier
warning to the miners against going it alone. The resolution of this ap
265
parent contradiction comes about through an understanding of the very
special status the Preacher enjoys as a supernatural being.
An analogy can be found in the Old Testament story of David and
Goliath. Often misinterpreted as a fable to inspire courage against over
whelming odds, its writer actually intended it to convey David’s messiah-
ship, his special position as the anointed one of God. The divine power
bestowed upon David distinguishes him from other men and enables
him to accomplish miraculous feats. The Preacher can accomplish his
mighty deeds because he is supernatural, an otherworldly creature with
powers unavailable to normal human beings. His warnings to the miners
as mere mortals hold true. They could not do what he does nor could
anyone else. Eastwood is once again placing his heroes within the con
text of fantasy. There is a very clear message that the Preacher, and by
implication so many of his other invincible, superhuman heroes, must be
understood as characters of mythology, mystery, and the imagination.
Reiterating a theme introduced in Joe Kidd. Pale Rider warns
against the destructiveness of unbridled individualism. Frank Harlan’s
mania for power and wealth tramples anyone or anything that stands in
his way. The law exists merely to validate the many machinations he un
dertakes to build his fortune. When he encounters legal resistance, Har
lan counters with bribery and coercion. If that fails, he loses little time in
taking the law into his own hands. The same can be said of Coy
LaHood. During his first meeting with the Preacher, LaHood recites a
litany common among rugged individualists. “I opened this country. I
made this town what it is. I brought jobs and industry. I built an empire
266
with my own two hands and I’ve never asked help from anyone.” He then
adds, “Those squatters are standing in the way of progress.”
LaHood measures progress, of course, totally in terms of personal
economic gain. Neither the miners nor the law count for much when they
come between gold and his avarice. After the Preacher rejects his bribe
to forsake the colony, LaHood asks in scornful exasperation, “ What are
these tin pans to you anyway, Reverend?” The Preacher reminds him
that he “can't serve God and mammon” and quite aptly asks LaHood
what price he places on a clear conscience. Directed at a man whose
sole considerations are economic, such a question is certainly couched
in the appropriate terms. LaHood agrees to offer the miners a decent
price for their claims but only after he learns that hiring Stockburn and his
deputies will cost him far more. LaHood, like Frank Harlan, represents
economic individualism at its most insidious, masking greed and social
disintegration behind the platitudes of self-reliance, initiative, and econo
mic progress. It is an expression of individualism from which Eastwood is
most anxious to disassociate himself.
Among the most representative expressions of LaHood’s greed is
his use of hydraulic monitors to quicken substantially the extraction of
gold from the land. Blasting away forests and mountainsides as they do,
it is not difficult to understand why they were eventually outlawed. The
film carries a strong subtext of environmental concern and protest against
such practices. When the Preacher comes across LaHood’s enterprise,
he looks disgustedly upon its massive decimation of the earth’s natural
beauty. Divine judgment resembling a thunderbolt eventually befalls the
267
operation when the Preacher, aided by Barrett, systematically dynamites
the monitors, their pipes, and LaHood’s entire mining camp.
Pale Rider provides Eastwood, a strong advocate of environmen
tal protection,1 1 the opportunity to frame ecological abuse within a theo
logical context. In seriously violating his responsibility as a steward over
Creation, LaHood has opened himself to divine judgment. Thus East
wood, “ the last American puritan,” has added environmental damage to
his list of crimes worthy of retribution and for which the perpetrators do
not go unpunished. LaHood’s ruthless pursuit of private gain adds Na
ture to his list of victims, which, like the miners, means nothing to him. In
radically pursuing his self-interests, LaHood is as divorced from his con
nectedness to the world as he is from that with his fellow human beings.
Never in any of his previous films has Eastwood so clearly depicted the
personal and social dangers inherent in an individual’s isolation.
On the eve of the Preacher’s climactic confrontation, Sarah
Wheeler visits him in his cabin. In a very quiet, touching scene, she
thanks him for saving Megan from an assault by LaHood’s men yet she
wishes “ there was something I could do or say to change your mind”
about facing Stockburn the next morning. After declaring her love for
him, Sarah says goodbye and turns to leave. Disembodied cries from
the mountains of “Preacher. . . Preacher” halt her in the doorway. “ Who
is that?” she asks apprehensively. An ambiguous “a voice from the past”
constitutes the extent of the Preacher’s explanation.
" Carrie Rickey, “In Like Clint,” Fame November 1988: 128.
268
Sensing herself in the presence of an inscrutable dimension,
Sarah beseeches him, “Who are you? Who are you, really?” “Well, it
doesn’t really matter, does it?” he replies softly. In awe, uncertain, yet
trusting him completely, Sarah shakes her head and agrees with a sim
ple “No.” This is a confession of faith on her part and marks the final
stage in the growth she has experienced since his arrival. Out of her ex
perience with the Preacher, Sarah has learned to appreciate what she
has, to love again, and to take advantage of the opportunities facing her.
As an agent of grace, the Preacher has enabled Sarah, along with the
others, to overcome their personal weaknesses and move toward the re
alization of life’s greater possibilities.
Sarah’s curiosity about the Preacher’s identity readily recalls simi
lar instances from earlier in Eastwood’s career. Asked repeatedly to re
veal more about themselves, his enigmatic characters only leave their
inquisitors bewildered and frustrated. At one time or another, Eastwood
has left most critics feeling the same way. As a practical filmmaker, he
has claimed that mystery works to heighten audience interest.1 2 When it
comes to his life off-screen, Eastwood sees himself as an introvert whose
natural quietness has coincidentally generated a similar response.1 3
David Kehr claims that Eastwood has never been comfortable with star
dom, rejecting its frivolous demands and the awesome power the public
bestows upon its chosen few. That, says Kehr, explains Eastwood’s
,a Ric Gentry, “Director Clint Eastwood: Attention to Detail and Involve
ment for the Audience,” Millimeter December 1980: 129-130.
,3 Pamela Leigh, “Not-So-Tough Talk from Clint Eastwood,” Ladies
Home Journal June 1989: 43.
continual efforts to undermine his image since his star ascended to such
dominant heights twenty years ago.1 4
Sarah’s question, then, serves as a refrain, a “ voice from the past”
in other words. It again endeavors to raise those same questions asked
of Eastwood from the beginning. Where before his reserve only intensi
fied the mystery. Pale Rider finds him denying the significance of the
question altogether. His “ that really doesn’t matter, does it?” followed by
Sarah’s rhetorical “No” radically interrogates the entire mythology and
phenomenon of stardom and those ensuing public rituals that shower un
warranted significance upon certain performers. For Eastwood, “who he
is really” remains a private matter that is neither anyone else’s business
nor an issue the public should find worth pursuing. While Kehr’s descrip
tion of Eastwood as wishing “ to fade away” altogether from public atten
tion is overstated, it does quite rightly point out Eastwood’s “ discomfort
with the notion of stardom . . . as a perverse and potentially dangerous
cultural phenomenon.”1 5
Ironically, Clint Eastwood’s bout with stardom escalated to an un
expected level soon after the completion of Pale Rider. Before its release
and following Citv Heat’s, the actor-director suddenly found himself the
new darling of many within the critical community. Accolades, tributes,
and exalted interpretations of his work appeared, wildly exceeding any
he had previously enjoyed. Seemingly overnight, Eastwood’s reputation
1 4 David Kehr, “ A Fistful of Eastwood: Ten Tapes to Make Your Day,”
American Film March 1985: 63-64.
1 5 Kehr 63-64.
270
as a filmmaker, as an auteur, accelerated, its momentum sweeping up
converts along the way.
The most notably ostentatious expression of this unbridled enthu
siasm occurred in January, 1985, when Eastwood traveled to France,
England, and Germany as the honored guest at gala retrospectives of
his work. The French Ministry of Culture decorated him as a Chevalier
des Arts et Lettres. The Guardian, a major leftist London newspaper and
previously among his most devoted detractors, hailed his humanity in “ A
Die-Hard Liberal Behind the Magnum Image” and invited him to lecture
at the British Film Institute.1 6 Traveling with Eastwood, journalist John
Vinocur captured the trip’s utter pomposity and inane unreality when he
christened it “ The Clint Eastwood Magical Respectability and European
Accolade and Adulation Tour.”1 7
Amid the intellectual posturing and resounding praise, Vinocur
found Eastwood reacting much as one of his characters might. Gracious
and appreciative, he nonetheless distanced himself from the engulfing
pretentiousness by assuming the air of a detached, often amused ob
server. Having dispassionately weathered years of abuse from many of
these same people, Eastwood gave no indication of taking them very
seriously now that the critical winds had shifted.1 8 Vinocur concluded
that Eastwood had changed ideologically very little over the years. This
1 6 John Vinocur, “Clint Eastwood, Seriously.” New York Times Maga
zine 24 February 1985: 18.
1 7 Vinocur 16.
1 8 Vinocur 24.
271
sudden hoopla merely demonstrated that critics, now shedding “ the rhe
toric of the 1960’s,” had finally “caught up to Eastwood” by choosing to
discover significance in the man and his films.1 9
What they usually found, however, was what they were looking
for: evidence that Eastwood, now critically chic, espoused their particu
lar ideological perspectives and none other. Eastwood suggested as
much and Vinocur concurred.2 0 Ironically, the same blatant selectivity
operative in former condemnations of Eastwood was now at work to can
onize him as a cinematic saint. Without employing the specific theoreti
cal terminology, Vinocur’s account describes quite clearly a situation in
which criticism functions dynamically as an ideological enterprise. Seek
ing to encapsulate Eastwood neatly in categories consistent with their
particular philosophical/political persuasions, critics masked contradic
tions in his work, trivialized instances of philosophical differences, and
interpreted his comments to support their images of whom they would
like him to be. “ The strained exegesis of Eastwood and his work mostly
showed the impossibility of his existing as a man who is what he seems.
Now, Eastwood had got institutional respect, but at a price.” 2 1
For its part, The New York Times Magazine contributed to East
wood’s respectability by running Vinocur’s article as its lead story. Pos
ing dapperly in a conservative three-piece suit, a bearded Eastwood
filled its cover as a large “Clint Eastwood, Seriously" announced his new
1 9 Vinocur 16.
2 0 Vinocur 24.
2 1 Vinocur. 30.
272
critical standing. Vinocur’s piece and its distinguished publisher only
further legitimized this unexpected surge in Eastwood's prestige. So
pronounced had it suddenly become that an alarmed James Wolcott re
taliated with a salvo of familiar disparaging refrains aimed at Eastwood
and his films. He also denounced those fickle critics stampeding to leap
aboard the band wagon.2 2 His remonstrations had little effect. When
Eastwood accompanied Pale Rider to the Cannes Film Festival that
spring, he instantly became its feted star. Eastwood’s critical reputation
had never been higher nor had his popularity with audiences wavered.
As they had in 1984, theatre owners selected him as the top box office
money maker of 1985.2 3
Among influential American critics, Pale Rider received mixed re
views. Pauline Kael, whose relentless, articulate polemics against all
things Eastwood has earned for her an exalted status among his detrac
tors, refused to be drowned in the revisionist tide. She found little to
praise and a great deal, especially Eastwood the director and actor, to
attack.2 4 Most others who viewed the film as less than it might have been
nevertheless conceded an admiration for Eastwood as a filmmaker and
as a screen persona. The Christian Science Monitor announced “ the
time has come for Eastwood to be hailed as one of our leading classical
2 2 James Wolcott, “Is That a Gun in Your Pocket?” Vanity Fair July
1985: 10-11.
2 3 Tim Cahill, “Clint Eastwood: The Rolling Stone Interview.” Rolling
Stone 4 July 1985: 20.
2 4 Pauline Kael, “Pop Mystics,” rev. of Pale Rider. New Yorker 12 Au
gust 1985: 64-65.
273
filmmakers."2 5 Vincent Canby confessed, “I'm just now beginning to real
ize that, though Mr. Eastwood may have been improving over the years,
it’s also taken all these years for most of us to recognize his very consis
tent grace and wit as a film maker.” 2 6 Writing in the Los Anaeles Times ,
Michael Wilmington proclaimed that Eastwood “proves that his own
acting and directing are among the treasures of the present.” 2 7 David
Ansen, seldom one to enjoy an Eastwood film, spoke for many when he
shared his doubts about Pale Rider but concluded that “ the principal
pleasure is watching Clint, who could probably mesmerize a camera
while sound asleep.” 2 8 Films in Review’s Marcia Magill was a bit more
effusive in her fascination with Eastwood: “ And audiences throughout
the world will continue to join young Megan in her plaintive cry: ‘I love
you . .. goodbye!’ (Count me in, too, Clint!)” 2 9
Amid such excess, Andrew Sarris provided one of the most in
sightful analyses of Pale Rider’s contribution to Eastwood’s star image.3 0
Sarris considered the film important not so much because it suggested
2 5 David Sterritt. rev, of Pale Rider. Christian Science Monitor. 28 June
1985: 25.
2 6 Vincent Canby, “ Clint Eastwood in Pale Rider.” rev of Pale Rider.
New York Times 28 June 1985: C8.
2 7 Wilmington 1.
2 8 David Ansen, rev. of Pale Rider. Newsweek 1 July 1985: 62.
2 9 Marcia Magill, rev. of Pale Rider. Films in Review October 1985:
487.
8 0 Sarris 61.
274
Eastwood’s growth as a reputable director or that it further solidified his
screen persona. Pale Rider represented Eastwood’s willingness to fol
low his intuition, to risk failure, much as he had done before in choosing
to make The Beguiled. Play Misty for Me. Every Which Wav But Loose,
and Honkvtonk Man. This return to a troubled genre was uncharacteristi
cally filled with baroque, mystical overtones. Its calculated reworking of
the classic Shane dared to invite damaging comparisons. Sarris saw
such risks as typical of Eastwood, who, despite his many critical and
fewer commercial setbacks, continued to explore new creative opportu
nities primarily because they excited him personally. “ On the whole,”
wrote Sarris, “Eastwood’s instincts as an artist are well-nigh inspiring in
the context of the temptations he must face all the time to play it safe.
Consequentially, even his mistakes contribute to his mystique.” 3 1
Although firmly rooted in his films, Eastwood’s mystique had tran
scended his screen persona by 1985. Since 1980, favorable descrip
tions of the off-screen Eastwood had pictured him as different yet also
quite similar to the men he portrayed.3 2 Interviews and profiles revealed
a soft-spoken, good-natured loner whose most obvious resemblance to
his popular heroes lay with his implicit self-confidence.3 3 Eastwood pro
jected a “reverence of individuality,” a realistic appraisal and acceptance
of his strengths and weaknesses, and a willingness to trust in his own in-
3 < Sarris 61.
3 2 Vinocur 19.
3 3 Rosemary Rogers, “Sweet Savage Clint,” Ladies Home Journal
June 1982: 28, 30, 33-34.
275
tuition. He repeatedly came across as being a self-assured man well in
control of himself and his destiny.3 4
Apart from the roles, the phenomenal earnings, and his filmmak
ing achievements, Eastwood was increasingly perceived as one of those
rare men who triumphantly lives life on his own terms. Much like Bronco
Billy McCoy, Eastwood’s motto could be “I am who I want to be.” David
Ansen described him this way and personally verified that Eastwood’s
off-screen image fascinated even those genuinely offended by Harry
Callahan.3 5 Eastwood’s violent characters and uneven directorial efforts
could be overshadowed by the personality and life style of the man him
self. Reacting in such a way, several confessed that they, along with so
many others, became “Walter Mittys, dreaming of what the world would
be like if only we were Clint Eastwood."3 6 No longer merely a star, Clint
Eastwood had become “an American icon,” 3 7 a cultural hero whose per
sonal and professional achievements perpetuated the popular hope
that individual fulfillment remains a genuine possibility within the ardu
ous complexities of contemporary society.
3 4 Gerald Lubenow, ‘“Rebel in My Soul’.” Newsweek 22 July1985: 54.
3 5 Ansen, Lubenow, and McAlevey 52.
3 6 Ansen, Lubenow, and McAlevey 53.
3 7 Ansen, Lubenow, and McAlevey 48; Vinocur 16.
276
Chapter Ten
Clint Eastwood: The Image (VII)
Political Interlude: The Carmel Campaign and Mayoralty
I. The Campaign
In John Ford’s The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962). a
newspaper editor concludes that “ when the legend becomes fact, print
the legend.” Only three years after his term as the mayor of Carmel-by-
the-Sea, California, Clint Eastwood’s tenure still remains a vivid memory.
Over time, however, it will gradually assume the trappings of popular leg
end. The future will undoubtedly find embellishments of Eastwood’s poli
tical career which paint it in the rich, dramatic strokes of mythic grandeur.
This seems only natural for an actor whose very image and immense
popularity lend themselves so readily to the language of legend and the
process of myth making.
Daily accounts of Eastwood’s successful campaign and subse
quent mayoralty often read like reviews of his films. References to the
gun-toting Man with No Name and Harry Callahan pervaded headlines.
Stories about Eastwood appeared under such headlines as “Eastwood
277
Fires Away at Carmel City Officials,”1 “Eastwood Sets Sights on Mayor of
Carmel,"2 “Eastwood Moves to Shoot Down Ice Cream Ban ,” 3 and “Dirty
Harry Takes Aim.” 4 Similar facetious references characterized the count
less news stories suddenly coming out of Carmel. As innocent fun, they
reflected the spirit in which most journalists initially interpreted East
wood’s intentions. One local editor, while acknowledging the legitimacy
of Eastwood’s candidacy, simply could not resist the temptation to re
count the cleverest Eastwoodisms to have made the rounds.5
Initially, the frivolity seemed justified. Although a resident for
nearly twenty years, Eastwood had always maintained a low profile in
the Carmel community. Apart from his publicized appearances at local
athletic tournaments and his distinction as part-owner of a popular res
taurant, The Hog’s Breath Inn, Eastwood managed to live a very private
life. Politics on any level seemed to interest him only slightly. When in
town between productions, he divided his time between his children
and a trusted group of old friends. Why, then, would the world’s most
’ Nancy Hills, “Eastwood Fires Away at Carmel City Officials,” Carmel
Pine Cone 10 October 1985: 1, 4.
2 Alex Hulanicki, “Eastwood Sets Sights on Mayor of Carmel,” Monte
rey PeninsulaHerald 31 January 1986: 1.
3 “Eastwood Moves to Shoot Down Ice Cream Ban,” Los Anaeles
Times 8 May 1986, pt. 1: 39.
4 “Dirty Harry Takes Aim,” editorial, Springfield, Illinois State Journai-
Repister 19 March 1986: 21.
5 “Politician Eastwood,” editorial, Monterev Peninsula Herald 4 Febru
ary 1986: 18.
278
popular movie star suddenly endeavor to become mayor of this quaint,
seaside village?6 Parking problems, water shortages, and building ordi
nances hardly seemed reasonable alternatives to the excitement and
glamour of Hollywood filmmaking. Many suspected he was only using
the office as a springboard to a higher one. The example of another con
servative Republican actor, his friend Ronald Reagan, fostered a spate of
comparisons and speculations.7 There were other more cynical obser
vers who questioned whether Eastwood himself was not the joke. They
came to Carmel to see if, in fact, “Clint can talk.” 8
Establishing his credibility as a serious candidate became East
wood’s first challenge. A double-edged sword, his famous image inten
sified voter interest in the mayor’s race but it also risked deteriorating it.
Many feared the election might turn into a carnival that ignored issues for
the sake of exploiting Eastwood’s immense popularity. Those fears were
heightened when scores of media personnel poured into Carmel. Ameri
can television crews and journalists were soon joined by their European
and Asian counterparts. National news programs featured regular up
dates on the campaign. Cartoonist Gary Trudeau devoted a week of
6 Michael Gardner, “Clint Jumps into Fray to ‘Bring Community To
gether,”’ Caoi3£l_EijT£jQQiie 27 February 1986: 1.
7 Michael W. Miller, “Quiet Little Carmel is Suddenly Having a Very
Noisy Race,” Wall Street Journal 19 March 1986: 23.
a Stephen Pile, “Why Dirty Harry Had a Nice Day on the Hustings,”
Glasgow, Scotland Sunday Times 2 March 1986: 24.
279
“Doonsbury” to satirizing the hoopla.9 The media onslaught astonished
even those who had advised early on that “Carmel had better brace itself
for a long run under the hot lights of national attention."1 0 Among the
most surprised was Eastwood. “I think it’s grand when people are inter
ested in local politics,” he mused, “but this is a little bizarre for us.”1 1 Ex
asperated, rival campaign worker Robert Irvine was a trifle less com
posed than the low-key candidate. Deluged by calls from around the
world, he moaned, “It's just out of hand--my God!”1 2
While reasonably tolerant of the ubiquitous media, Carmel’s resi
dents recoiled at the mass of tourists swarming into their town. A pejora
tive designation in the local vernacular, “ tourists” are distinguished from
those welcomed “ visitors” who daily frequent Carmel. The latter are re
cognized by their apparent refinement, sophistication, and tasteful afflu
ence. They patronize the city’s sixty-seven art galleries, shop at the ele
gant stores on Ocean Avenue, and reverently savor the town’s beauty,
charm, and graceful ambience. Tourists, in contrast, assault the town’s
dignity, clog its sidewalks with gawkers and litter, and generally show
scant respect for such official Carmel admonitions as “Eating on the
Street is Strongly Discouraged.”
9 Garry Trudeau, “Doonsburv.” cartoon. Los Anaeles Times. 3-7
March 1986.
1 0 “Politician Eastwood,” 18.
1 1 Miller 1.
1 2 Miller 23.
280
Immediately after Eastwood announced his candidacy, tourists
began pouring into Carmel. Hoping to catch a glimpse of “Clint,” they
crowded outside his campaign headquarters, packed the Hog’s Breath
Inn, and gobbled up any and all souvenirs of the election. Merchants did
a brisk business selling posters and clothing that exploited Eastwood’s
image and the campaign. Within six weeks alone, one businessman
sold over 1,500 T-shirts featuring variations of “Go Ahead, Make Me
Mayor” and “Go Ahead, Clint, Make My Night.”1 3 The sight of Carmel’s
distressing resemblance to Waikiki Beach horrified its staid residents.
Some predicted that a “Mayor Eastwood” would only accelerate this un
fortunate trend.1 4 Community leader Jean Grace spoke for many when
she lamented, “ As kindhearted and well-meaning as he may be as a
person, a world-famous actor in the political limelight of Carmel-by-the-
Sea does nothing but attract the thundering hordes.”1 5
Protective of its special charm and natural beauty, most residents
would readily welcome Carmel’s being kept secret from the rest of the
world. They perpetually guard against commercial enterprises, espe
cially those of developers, which would exploit the area’s distinctiveness
and thereby eventually destroy it. The rapid growth of neighboring Mon
terey and the influx of visitors to the region only exacerbate their worst
fears. Running on a platform espousing preservation and very selective
,3 Miller 23.
1 4 Ken Peterson, “Eastwood Sworn in as Mavor.” Monterev Penin
sula Herald 16ApriM986: 1.
,s Mark Stein, “Campaigning with Clint,” Los Angeles Times Magazine
30 March 1986: 16.
281
growth, retired librarian Charlotte Townsend was elected mayor in 1984.
Also winning seats on the city council were members who shared Ms.
Townsend's suspicion of the business community and all others whom
they perceived as threatening to undermine Carmel’s uniqueness.
Clint Eastwood’s involvement in local politics was fueled by the
frustration he experienced in his dealings with the Townsend administra
tion.1 6 For two years he had failed repeatedly to secure the city’s ap
proval of his plans to renovate one of his properties. When the project
ran into yet another set of problems, Eastwood concluded he was stuck
in a bureaucratic maze. He believed an antagonistic city council and
planning commission were deliberately stonewalling his plans.1 7 Having
exhausted his patience, he reluctantly took the city to court.
In a rare public appearance on October 3, 1985, Eastwood ad
dressed the Carmel Business Association (CBA). He decried the prevail
ing antagonism that existed between the town’s merchants and resi
dents. The council, Eastwood believed, was exploiting that divisiveness
for its own advantage, namely, to straitjacket business and discourage
opportunities for its expansion. Eastwood called upon city hall to be
come more representative, to balance legitimate economic interests with
those of Carmel’s residents.1 8 He closed his speech by urging greater
,6 Mac McDonald, “Clint Runs for Mayor: Clint Eastwood to Challenge
Mayor Townsend,” Carmel Pine Cone 30 January 1986: 1.
1 7 Hills 1.
1 8 Hills 4.
282
political involvement from all quarters of the community but offered no
hint that he would consider running for public office.
Eastwood was uncertain if his speech before the CBA prompted
the city council to act.1 9 If not, it was an unusual coincidence that very
soon after his remarks a compromise was reached which included the
approval of his development project. A local reporter’s account of the
agreement resorted to language that hundreds of others would later em
ploy in describing Eastwood’s every action during the campaign. “ The
showdown between Clint Eastwood and the city of Carmel is over,” he
wrote. “Both sides blinked.” 2 0 Michael Gardner, who covered the elec
tion closer than any journalist, confessed that as much as he endea
vored to shun allusions to Eastwood’s image, its inherent sensationalism
sometimes proved too great a temptation. “It was simply too good an
angle to pass up,” he admitted, and his colleagues seldom did.2 1
By focusing on Eastwood the candidate rather than Eastwood the
star, Gardner was among the few writers who resisted perpetual refer
ences to The Man with NoName and Harry Callahan. Once Eastwood
announced his candidacy on January 29, 1986, virtually every news
story emanating from Carmel dramatized events in figures of speech
which played upon and perpetuated Eastwood’s tough guy screen
image. The media also infused a zany, madcap excitement into the cam
1 9 Michael Gardner, “Eastwood, City Put Guns Away, Settle Dispute
Over Building.” Carmel Pine Cone 21 November 1985: 4.
8 0 Ken Peterson, “Eastwood, Carmel Showdown Ends with Project
Compromise.” Monterev Peninsula Herald 21 November 1985: 25.
2 1 Michael Gardner, personal interview, 17 January 1990.
283
paign and into the town. They scurried about relentlessly in search of
new angles to explore. Often, when nothing new was left to report, the
television crews and reporters interviewed each other. The affect of
media overkill was to transform the campaign into a grand adventure
filled with larger-than-life characters of whom Eastwood was certainly the
most intriguing.
What would have passed under normal circumstances as a rather
mundane small town election had become a media event of international
scrutiny. The interest was generated solely by Eastwood’s presence.
Hardly anyone outside the Carmel area paid even lip service to the im
portance of issues. That presented considerable problems for Eastwood.
He hoped that voters would look past his profession, his image, and the
media overkill to concentrate “ on my involvement in this community and
my experience and desire to be a good mayor. This is between my
neighbors and me.” 2 2 For the most part, Carmel voters shared his per
spective and concentrated on the issues at hand.2 3 The rest of the world,
however, enjoyed following the election to see “how the high plains
drifter is going to ride into town and set things right” with city hall.2 4
As much fun as the media had in its facetious handling of the elec
tion, there was more than a kernel of truth in the seemingly strained com
parisons between Eastwood’s screen persona and his role as a candi-
2 2 Jeff Silverman, “Play Mayor for Me,” J L J § 7 April 1986: 25.
2 3 Ken Fadem, “Eastwood-Townsend: Anatomy of an Election,” Car
mel Pine Cone 17 April 1986: 8.
2 4 “Politician Eastwood,” 18.
284
date. If the press had looked beyond the more fantastic elements of
Eastwood’s famous roles, it would have found life offering an acceptable
imitation of art. As one of his characters would do, Eastwood took mat
ters into his own hands when he believed city officials were betraying
their public trust, particularly at his expense. As it often does in his films,
bureaucracy had raised ts ugly head in Carmel to thwart individual initi
ative and actually block the resolution of social problems.
Eight years earlier, Eastwood identified a recurring theme in his
work as “ the war against shit-that’s the message.” 2 5 His profane refer
ence was not to the urban lumpen as might be suspected but rather to
the bureaucratic red tape and personal pettiness that transforms govern
ments into pervasive, ineffective, and debilitating institutions. “ I am al
ways suspicious of people who try to put controls over others,” Eastwood
told the Carmel Business Association. “ The purpose of many people in
government is they love to have that control over people's lives.” 2 6 When
the campaign began, he painted himself “as mad as hell at city hall and
not willing to take it anymore,” 2 7 and he attacked “ the small petty harass
ment that goes on, the small bureaucratic nightmares the city gets sub
merged in. It doesn’t have to be there. We can all work together."2 8 From
2 5 Bent Liholm and BoTorp Pedersen, “The Fight Against Shit, That’s
the Message’” Chaplin n. 168, June 1980: 114.
2 6 Hills 4.
2 7 Gardner, “Clint Jumps into Fray . . . , ’’ 4.
2 8 Joanne Hodgen, “Clint Eastwood: Go Ahead . . . Make Him Mayor,”
Coasting. 19 March 1986: 48.
285
a man whose roles perpetually celebrate self-determination and individ
ual action in the face of oppressive social forces, be they criminal or gov
ernmental, this polemic should come as no surprise.
Capraesque resonances echo in many of Eastwood’s gentler
films and several populist themes can certainly be found in the candi
date’s political approach. He revealed further evidence of this bent when
he criticized the Carmel planning commission for denying a business
permit to an ice cream store that intended to sell carry-out cones. Rather
than overruling that decision, the city council concurred. After the wire
services circulated the story, Carmel soon found itself dubbed with a na
tional reputation as “Scrooge City.” 2 9 An incident that should have been
quickly resolved turned into the ‘The Ice Cream Cone Fiasco.” When it
was not settled, Eastwood became further convinced that bureaucracy
was out of hand in his home town.3 0
Believing that Mayor Townsend had needlessly polarized the city
into warring factions, Eastwood adopted “Bringing the Community To
gether” as his campaign slogan. For reestablishing a sense of commu
nity, he hearkened back to an earlier time when a “ spirit of cooperation”
permeated Carmel. Its revival, Eastwood claimed, should replace the
“negativism and arrogance” that characterized the Townsend administra
tion.3 1 He was especially incensed by the time and money wasted on the
2 9 Patt Morrison, “Scrooge City?” Los Anaeles Times 26 August 1985,
Pt. 1: 3,12.
3 0 Hodgen 51.
3 ' McDonald 1.
286
city’s many law suits against those the council perceived as dangerous
agents of change. Recalling Capra’s John Doe (played by Gary Cooper,
an actor with whom he is often compared), Eastwood advocated the
creation of a climate of mutual trust and good neighborliness where con
flicts could be resolved through “negotiations and diplomacy.” 3 2
Mayor Townsend countered by portraying Eastwood as a pawn of
developers, doubted his ability to balance civic and professional obliga
tions, and predicted an Eastwood victory would entice an unmanageable
number of Philistines into Carmel.3 3 In rebuttal, Eastwood denied his
need for greater fame and fortune, claiming only that he wished to unite
the community and improve it.3 4 For the most part, the mayor’s charges
fell on deaf ears. The Carmel Pine Cone and The Monterev Peninsula
Herald endorsed Eastwood and polls projected his winning by a com
fortable margin. The candidate, however, refused to predict a victory,
claiming that “I don’t want to become the Thomas Dewey of municipal
politics.” 3 5
For two months the race had generated international interest and
anticipation but nowhere was it greater than from Big Sur to the Bay
Area. It reached a fever pitch by election eve. Nearly two hundred mem
3 2 Gardner, “ Clint Jumps into Fray. . . , ” 4.
3 3 “‘Feeling Good,’ Eastwood Cites Need to Avoid Dewey Image,” Los
Anaeles Times 8 April 1986 pt. 1: 20.
3 4 Mac McDonald, “Clint for Mayor,” editorial, Carmel Pine Cone 3
April 1986: 2.
3 5 “‘Feeling Good,’ . . . , ” 20.
287
bers of the press, including their colleagues in broadcasting, packed the
town. Tokyo stations sent two video crews, four London dailies were re
presented, and even the Voice of America considered Eastwood’s candi
dacy important enough to transmit its details to listeners behind the Iron
Curtain. Election day saw the mayhem continue. Carmel voters became
celebrities as they emerged from polling booths to face interviewers.
Candidates, especially Eastwood, drew huge crowds. Any dignity gene
rally reserved for Americans exercising their franchise was lost immedi
ately in the carnival atmosphere. Adding fuel to the fire were the thou
sands of tourists now delighting in their new status as participant eyewit
nesses to a major media event.
In keeping with local tradition, votes were counted as they were
cast and running tallies became grist for journalists’ hourly reports. Even
opening night of baseball at Oakland Coliseum took a back seat to the
excitement generated by Eastwood’s candidacy. The 45,000 A’s fans
who filled the stadium reserved the evening’s loudest cheers for the pe
riodic election up-dates flashed on the Diamond Vision message board.3 6
When it was all over, Eastwood had won a landslide victory, capturing
72% of the vote.
3 6 Michael Gardner, ‘“Carmel City Hall, Can You Hold?,”’ Carmel Pine
Cone 17 April 1986: 11.
288
II. The Mayoralty
1. The Planning Commission Massacre
Eschewing such addresses as “ Your Honor” and “Mr. Mayor” in
favor of an egalitarian “it’s just Clint,” 3 7 Eastwood presided over his first
council meeting to a packed house of reporters, tourists, and Carmel resi
dents. With only 55 seats in city hall, more than 350 spectators gathered
outside to wait their turns for a chance to gawk at Eastwood. Few, how
ever, were lingering about when the meeting ended six hours later. The
press generally agreed that the new mayor handled opening night with
a “ combination of speed, humor, informality, and the bending of at least a
few of Roberts’ Rules of Order.” 3 8 It foreshadowed Eastwood’s political
style which in hindsight confirmed many similarities between the man
and his mage. During his mayoralty, three events in particular illustrate
that Eastwood as a public servant was very much akin to those men he
played on the screen.
Eastwood plays men of action, individuals who quickly resolve
grave situations by acting decisively. A flap over “bending at least a
few rules” is the least of their concerns when playing for high stakes.
Persons and procedural technicalities standing in their way are likely to
be ignored or handled in a roughshod manner. The justification for such
expedient actions, many of which are quite questionable, is two-fold.
3 7 Mark Stein, “Eastwood Wins Easy Victory in Carmel Vote.” Los An
geles Times 9 April 1986, pt. 1: 1.
3 8 Michael Gardner, “ Odello Issue Not Over Although Suit Dropped,”
Carmel Pine Cone 8 April 1986: 3.
289
First, urgency demands swift, often unorthodox action; and, second, that
action is motivated by the best of intentions and for the sake of important
social needs. Yet along with this ethical rationale, there also exists within
most Eastwood characters a deep strain of retribution leveled at those
who have harmed them personally. Harry Callahan, Josey Wales, and
Pale Rider’s Preacher are among the more famous of those “ who live by
the feud.”
Like the stranger of High Plains Drifter. Eastwood hardly seemed
anxious to adopt a policy of “ forgive and forget.” His first major crisis oc
curred early in June after he fired most members of the city’s planning
commission. Among them were many of the same individuals who had
repeatedly stymied Eastwood’s renovation plans, perpetrated the “ice
cream cone fiasco,” and had thwarted the implementation of several
municipal improvements authorized by the previous city council. Former
mayor Charlotte Townsend and her supporters, certainly no advocates of
arbitrary change in their own right, had seldom been able to overcome
the commission’s adamant, uncooperative stance.
While entirely legal and hardly a total surprise, Eastwood’s no-
nonsense stratagem nevertheless drew unflattering comparisons with
one of Harry Callahan’s summary judgments. Eastwood neutralized the
commission’s power by convincing a majority on the council to declare
the town in a state of emergency. This empowered the council to remove
at its discretion any appointed city officials. The members of the planning
commission, many with several years remaining in their terms, were the
first to go. In one bold stroke, Eastwood had removed the principal politi-
290
cal bottleneck that had blocked Ms. Townsend from getting the ap
proved projects off the ground. Their departure and the subsequent ap
pointment of a new commission also gave Eastwood the freedom to push
forward with his own agenda.
In a fashion tamer and more law-abiding than might be expected
from one of his characters, Eastwood eliminated those whom he per
ceived as threatening the public good. He believed he could not fulfill
the mandate given to him by the voters if an unresponsive clique, acting
behind the guise of bureaucratic technicalities, was allowed to stall
sorely needed civic improvements.3 9 In the ensuing uproar, Mayor East
wood, not unlike actor/director Eastwood, discovered quickly that regard
less of role, public figures are never without their detractors. Ironically,
several complaints echoed the same concerns which disenchanted film
critics had been voicing about Eastwood since he became a star.
One Carmelite in particular, gadfly Jane Mayer, whose age, articu
lateness and disdain for Eastwood resemble Pauline Kael’s, immediately
took him to task for his tactics. “ There exists,” she observed, “a pervasive
impression of vindictiveness. That. .. planning commissions and ordi
nances tell me that I can’t do what I want to do so let’s overthrow anybody
or any commission, board or body that hampers me in any way.” She
accused Eastwood of pursuing his “let’s go for it” course without ade
quately taking it before the people of Carmel. She concluded with an
unmistakable reference to Eastwood as she reminded the council that
laws exist to place limits “on the greed and self-interest that, in varying
3 9 Michael Gardner, “ Wright Blasts Eastwood’s Purge of Planners,”
Carmel Pine Cone 5 June 1986: 3.
291
degrees, is unfortunately inherent in all men.” 4 0 Ms. Mayer’s statement
before the council did not allude to “latent fascism,” as Ms. Kael’s might
have if given the opportunity, but her implication was clear that Eastwood,
like Harry, was acting vengefully and recklessly as a law unto himself.
No stranger to criticism, Eastwood’s response was characteristi
cally taciturn. After listening to charges that he vindictively used his office
to settle old scores, Eastwood labeled them merely “ assumptions,” and
added “I’m sorry you feel that way.” 4 1 With that, he considered the matter
closed and moved on to other business. Eastwood never admitted that
ousting the commissioners stemmed from a bitter vendetta. He did, how
ever, confess that “the ‘dissatisfaction’ with the former council was the in
spiration to get into the fray-that was my motivation.” 4 2 It recalled a
narrative pattern prevalent in many of Eastwood’s films. Time and again,
the realization of socially beneficial goals occurs simultaneously yet often
coincidentally in the course of the hero’s righting a personal grievance.
If Eastwood’s difficulties with city government had reached an
early resolution, it is quite conceivable that he would never have become
a candidate. Without the personal affront he endured in “ being given the
run around,” he probably would have remained Carmel’s most famous
and among its more inconspicuous residents. Unlike many of his char
acters, however, Eastwood’s grudge became secondary once he entered
4 0 Gardner, “ Wright Blasts . . . , ” 3.
4 ’ “Eastwood Ousts 4 Carmel Planners,” Monterev Peninsula Herald 4
June 1986: 23.
4 2 Michael Gardner, “Clint Eastwood Reflects on his First 100 Days,”
Carmel Pine Cone 4 September 1986: 3.
292
the race and later became mayor. Replacing the intransigent planning
commission was mandated, Eastwood believed, when voters elected him
in a landslide.4 3 By that time, any sweetness of revenge Eastwood may
have experienced was minor when compared to the relief he felt in finally
having rid the town and his mayoralty of an obstructionist faction. East
wood had acted with the swift decisiveness of one of his characters; but
unlike Harry Callahan, his settling of a personal score had become a
subtext in the larger drama of serving effectively as mayor.
2. Mission Ranch
Eastwood has said that his characters’ unpredictability is respon
sible in part for his popularity.4 4 Since The Man with No Name, audi
ences have remained intrigued by those laconic loners who seldom re
veal how they feel or what they will do next. So confident is Eastwood
that spectator interest and anticipation can be generated by mystery, that
most of his films are intentionally short on exposition. As a hallmark of
his acting and directing, a sense of mystery informed his political style as
well. From the beginning, Eastwood remained set apart by a measure of
inscrutability. Whether or not he would run against Charlotte Townsend
was the major pre-campaign question. Eastwood was noncommittal.
Only after extensive research and many confidential meetings with
friends did he realize that his chances of winning were quite good. His
decision to run was kept secret until its dramatic announcement occur
4 3 Gardner, “ Wright Blasts...,” 3.
4 4 Pamela Leigh, “Not-So-Tough Talk from Clint Eastwood.” Ladies
Home Journal June 1989: 43.
293
red in typically underplayed Eastwood fashion: one day, without fanfare,
he registered as a candidate at city hall.
Hidden beneath the ensuing hoopla was a different picture of the
man best known for his relaxed countenance and effortless successes. It
pointed to a private, guarded man who refused to speculate publicly
about his plans for fear of failing to deliver on them, losing, or looking
foolish.4 5 Despite the importance Eastwood places upon intuition and
keeping in touch with his “ original instinct” for a project,4 6 he is a man
who weighs issues carefully, plans in detail, and often proceeds unilat
erally. This is especially the case when other avenues have been shut
down to him. When that occurs, he often resorts to the individualism for
which he is famous and takes matters into his own hands. For many,
cleaning house of the planning commission revealed the darker side of
his taking charge. A lighter, more popular example represents the sec
ond event from Eastwood’s tenure where image and practice blend quite
significantly.
The fate of historic Mission Ranch was among the most pressing
issues facing Carmel in 1986. Fifty years earlier, the buildings of this
turn-of-the-century dairy farm had been converted into a rustic resort.
With its stables, bed and breakfast inn, quaint cabins, and a secluded
4 5 Richard Schickel, “Good Ole Burt; Cool-Eyed Clint,” Time 9 Janu
ary 1978: 43. Schickel notes that Eastwood “hates the idea of looking
ludicrous in any situation" which Schickel believes accounts for the star’s
reluctance to “stretch” himself as an actor. The same self-consciousness
carried over into Eastwood’s political life as well.
4 6 Ric Gentry, “Director Clint Eastwood: Attention to Detail and Involve
ment for the Audience,” Millimeter December 1980: 127.
294
setting among the rolling hills, the ranch boasted a spectacular view of
the rocky coast line. Rich in local history, it remained virtually un
changed, recalling a simpler, more gracious past and serving as a pro
phetic reminder of the incredible gifts Nature had bestowed upon the re
gion. While acknowledging that it was privately owned and lay outside
the town’s boundaries, Carmel residents nevertheless counted the ranch
among its civic treasures. When the property was purchased and ear
marked for a luxury housing development, the city countered with every
weapon in its legal arsenal.
The plan for constructing one hundred condominiums on a site
cherished for its history and exquisite beauty smacked of everything the
residents despised. Environmental impact reports eventually reduced
the number to sixty-two but that was hardly viewed as much of an im
provement. Initiated by Carmel Heritage, an influential preservation so
ciety, and later endorsed by the city council, a campaign raised over
three million dollars to buy the property. The developer, Mission Ranch
Corporation, countered the offer with an asking price of nearly twice that
amount. Legal battles, however, denied any resolution of the crisis and
soon the excitement of the campaign temporarily placed the issue on
hold. Not surprisingly, both candidates supported saving Mission Ranch
although Eastwood's detractors questioned his sincerity. They saw his
advocacy of preservation as merely strategic, designed to mitigate the
distressing notion that he was inescapably pro-business and “a disgrun
tled developer.” 4 7
4 7 Alex Hulanicki, “ Carmel Votes for Eastwood in a Landslide,” Monte
rey Peninsula Herald 9 April 1986: 5.
295
Shortly after Eastwood took office, Helen Wilson of Carmel Heri
tage approached him about saving Mission Ranch. She hoped he would
use his entree among the rich and famous to locate a socially conscious
benefactor. Eastwood quietly pitched the ranch to several friends but
found no takers. This substantial investment offered its share of cultural
and historical incentives, but very few financial ones. Ironically, in the
process of attempting to interest investors, Eastwood sold himself. He
surprised the town and delighted even his worst critics by using one of
his companies, Tehama Productions, Inc., to purchase the property for its
asking price. Apart from replacing corroded plumbing and wiring, East
wood pledged to keep the ranch as it was when, as a soldier stationed at
nearby Ft. Ord, he first visited it in 1951.
Once again, Eastwood had defied the reductionist tendency to
compartmentalize him into neat sociopolitical categories. An astute
businessman and a friend of commerce, Eastwood proved quite convinc
ingly that he also championed causes at odds with economic develop
ment. Saving Mission Ranch substantiated his claim that he wanted to
preserve Carmel’s very distinctive quality of life. Acting as one of his
screen characters might, he personally took charge of a difficult situa
tion. By exercising his special power, in this instance financial power,
Eastwood successfully resolved a predicament that once held little pro
mise of a happy ending. That he operated without fanfare, spent his own
money so magnanimously, and did so on behalf of the entire town only
added to his mystique.
296
3. Stepping Down
The third and final event, Eastwood’s decision against pursuing a
second term, also reveals characteristics consistent with those of his
screen image. As a film star accustomed to polarizing audiences, East
wood discovered the same phenomenon once he entered politics. Few
Carmel residents reacted ambivalently toward him. “ You either love him
or hate him” aptly describes the political climate in Carmel during his
mayoralty.4 8 For the most part, those who actually worked with Eastwood
found him cooperative, unpretentious, and anxious to expedite problems
through amicable negotiations. After the Mission Ranch Corporation sold
its property, partner Doug Tuck described the transaction in exalted
terms. “We had never dealt with anyone," he beamed, “ who was more of
a gentleman, more sincere, more easier to get along with than the may
or.” 4 9 While the sudden realization of a multi-million dollar profit may tend
a man toward euphoric hyperbole, Tuck’s statement does reflect the fav
orable impression that Eastwood left upon many of those who dealt with
him directly.
Throughout his term, however, a certain apprehensiveness about
Eastwood lingered throughout much of Carmel. Certainly his detractors
felt uneasy about him, but many of his supporters did also. Eastwood’s
tough guy image, inaccessibility, and mere presence as a major star
made him somewhat intimidating to the average resident. Although
4 8 Michael Gardner, “Mayor Gets Generally Good, But Mixed Reviews,”
Carmel Pine Cone 11 September 1986: 3.
4 9 David Leland, “Clint Buys Mission Ranch,” Carmel Pine Cone 11
December 1986: 4.
297
most Carmelites believed Eastwood was doing his best for Carmel, there
remained an uneasiness about the power seemingly at Eastwood’s dis
posal. Six months into Eastwood’s term, Jean Grace rightly described
this tension that existed throughout his mayoralty. “People persist in
feeling that the new administration has too much power," she said.
“ There is a fear of the power... but it is not based on the abuse of
power.”5 0
The town’s uneasiness about the potential danger inherent in
Eastwood’s power is reminiscent of a major critique of his screen per
sona. For years, the critical community has fretted about the concentra
tion of power in the hands of his characters. The notion that one man can
make a difference, a predominant theme in Eastwood’s work, is always
tempered by the fear that action is not always consistent with social
good. Unchecked power invites vindictiveness, self-aggrandizement,
and corruption. Political theory aside, however, the central issue in Car
mel remained Clint Eastwood.
Occasionally during his tenure, particularly scathing attacks upon
Eastwood were published. More than once critics purchased newspaper
space to lambaste Eastwood.5 1 Generally the attacks took a decidedly
personal bent, touching political issues in only a tertiary way. Interest
ingly, they followed precedents established long ago by those critics who
5 0 Alex Hulanicki, “Carmel Assesses Mayor Clint Eastwood: There is
No Consensus Vet on Performance,” Monterev Peninsula Herald 23
November 1986: 84.
5 ’ For an especially nasty attack upon Eastwood which caused a
minor sensation within Carmel, see Al Eisner, “ An Open Letter to Clint
Eastwood.” Monterev Peninsula Herald 2 February 1988: 19.
298
insisted upon making Eastwood the primary focus of their reviews. East
wood, a seasoned target of such preeminent nay sayers as the articulate
Pauline Kael and James Wolcott, seldom allowed the local denuncia
tions to trouble him. “Being an actor is a great asset,” he explained.
"When you make a film, there are some people who are going to love it
and there are others who hate what you do.. .. It doesn’t really bother
you. You let it roll off your back.” 5 2
When Eastwood decided against running for a second term, he
had no fear that he might be defeated. In all probability, he would have
been reelected by a comfortable margin.5 3 Significantly, his reasons for
stepping down once again illustrate how closely Eastwood partakes of
his characters’ inscrutability, individuality, and fidelity to personal values.
Often described as a well-organized workaholic,5 4 Eastwood found that
balancing the demands of mayor with his filmmaking pursuits simply be
came too much, even for him. While directing Heartbreak Ridae during
the summer of 1986, and Bird later the next year, Eastwood regularly
commuted between Southern California and Carmel. February, 1988,
saw shooting begin on The Dead Pool in San Francisco. As often as
possible, Eastwood scheduled his scenes at night in order to cover Car
mel city business during the day. The grueling pace of two years finally
caught up with him. In keeping with Eastwood’s reputation for mystery,
5 2 Gardner, “Clint Eastwood Reflects. . . 3 .
5 3 Miles Corwin, “Eastwood No ‘Dirty Harry’ in Last Scene as Mr.
Mayor,” Los Anaeles Times 10 April 1988, pt. 1: 32.
5 4 David Ansen, Gerald Lubenow, and Peter McAlevey, “ Clint: An
American Icon." Newsweek 22 July 1985: 51.
299
he kept his decision secret until the last moment. The announcement
that he would not seek a second term surprised nearly everyone. Citing
the conflicting demands of public service and private business, Eastwood
joked that he was only following one of Harry Callahan’s wise maxims:
“ A man’s gotta know his limitations.” 5 5
Claiming that he had accomplished much of what he had set out to
do, Eastwood believed it was time to move on. As popular as he had
been with much of Carmel, his decision to step down was well-received
in certain quarters. Unquestionably, the aggressiveness with which he
expedited the city’s backlog of stalled projects and then proceeded to
enact new ones alienated many of Carmel’s old guard. They deplored
what they regarded as his privileging business interests over those of
residents, of further commercializing the town. Among Eastwood’s other
liabilities they listed conflicts-of-interest, the reliance upon “ outsiders” to
complement his staff, and a mudslinging incident that shocked one Car
melite into exclaiming, "I can see why they call him Dirty Harry.”5 6
Unperturbed, Eastwood countered his critics with the same asser
tive optimism that characterized his mayoralty. “It’s easy to be a tear-
downer,” he said. “ That’s the easiest thing in the world. But it’s hard to
be a constructive person, a builder-upper.. . . I don’t intend to allow nega
tive doom and gloom to take over my attitude.”5 7 Eastwood admitted that
5 5 David Leland, “Clint Says ‘No’ to a Second Term as Mayor,” Carmel
Pine Cone 4 February 1988: 1.
5 6 Corwin 32.
5 7 Alex Hulanicki, “ Carmel’s Mayor Eastwood Says He Still Has Unfin
ished Business,” JisdSJ3iei^y_Egninsyia±i£!SM 10 January 1988: 5A.
300
time prohibited the completion of every item on his agenda but he did
believe that “our greatest contribution was we got things done, we got
things moving again. There was a do-nothing period in Carmel for
awhile where everybody just talked about things. I think we changed
that.” 5 8 The local press and a majority of the town agreed with his as
sessment. They regretted his decision not to run again. The Carmel
Pine Cone “admired his determination and his desire to do the best pos
sible job he could, and his deep commitment.. .. And Eastwood HAS
made a difference in this city.”5 9 The Monterey Peninsula Herald enioved
reminding its readers that “ we predicted [two years earlier] he would
bring reason, good sense, and common courtesy to the council at a time
when all three were needed. He did.” 6 0
The third and most important reason behind Eastwood’s decision
to leave office was a very personal one. Crunched between the de
mands of city business and those of filmmaking, Eastwood found he had
increasingly less time to spend with his teen-age children, especially his
daughter Alison. “I feel,” he said, “ that I would like to spend more time
with my family and not lose any more time that might be irretrievable.” 6 1
Not afraid to disappoint his supporters, Eastwood walked away from the
5 8 Corwin 3.
5 8 Mac McDonald, “ An End of an Era,” Carmel Pine Cone 11 February
1988: 2.
6 0 “Eastwood’s Surprise,” editorial, Monterev Peninsula Herald 10
February 1988: 24.
6 1 Leland, “Clint Says ‘No’ to a Second Term as Mayor,” 1.
301
office for the sake of his top priority, his children. Not unexpectedly, his
actions maximized those values that he alone determined were the most
important.
Once again, Eastwood played out the notion that “a man’s gotta do
what a man’s gotta do.” He followed his own conscience in doing what
he believed best. Yet few complained that his decision was selfish or
politically motivated. On the contrary, surrendering power only enhanced
Eastwood’s standing as a man of personal sensitivity and social commit
ment, two qualities summarily added to his reputation after the dramatic
rescue of Mission Ranch. The choice he made could not help but be ad
mired. “Meanwhile, he’ll have more time for his two teenagers, his main
reason for stepping down. That, too, says something about the man.”6 2
III. Eastwood’s Legacy
During Clint Eastwood’s two-year term, the town saw neither the
eruption of "hotels on Carmel Beach” nor the realization of those other
apocalyptic disasters predicted by his foes.6 3 They proved quite prophe
tic, however, on one important point. When Charlotte Townsend warned
that an Eastwood victory would deluge the town with tourists, her grum
blings became far more than political hyperbole. It certainly surpassed
Eastwood’s expectations. He believed things would calm down once
the election was over and the novelty of his new position subsided. Re
acting to the large crowd that gathered for his initial council meeting,
6 2 “Eastwood's Surprise,” 24.
6 3 McDonald, “End of an Era,” 2.
302
Eastwood quipped, “I think they [the big crowds] will diminish as time
goes on.... It’s limited excitement.” 6 4 Although Eastwood readily ac
knowledged his popularity, in this instance at least, he vastly underesti
mated its breadth, depth, and intensity. Regardless of the meeting’s tedi
ousness, visitors simply wanted to see Eastwood in person for them
selves. As a filmmaker concerned with the likes of narrative and charac
terization, Eastwood had overlooked his status as an immensely famous
star whose significance transcends the occasional banality of a given
context.
Travelers from around the world poured into Carmel in hopes of
catching a glimpse of Eastwood. The crowds at tiny city hail became so
unmanageable that council meetings were shifted to Sunset Center so
the overflow could be accomodated. “Looking for Clint” became the most
popular tourist activity.6 5 “People used to stop you on the street and ask
you where’s the Carmel Mission or the beach,” explained resident Kay
Pallastrini. “Now they all stop and ask: ‘Where is HE?’ They all want to
know how to find The Hog’s Breath or how to find City Hall.” 6 6 As they did
during the campaign, merchants continued to sell literally tons of caps,
shirts, and souvenirs linking Carmel to its new mayor and his star image.
Ironically, The Hog’s Breath Inn assumed the aura of and functioned
much like a religious shrine. Tourists, with the help of amused locals,
5 4 “Eastwood Moves to Shoot Down Ice Cream Ban,” 39.
6 5 Jack Smith, “ Where’s Clint?” Monterey Peninsula Herald 27 August
1986: 22.
“ Corwin 39.
303
made their way there in droves. Having found it, their faces typically
glowed with an odd mixture of awe, anticipation, and mild embarrass
ment. They lingered about, gazed into the restaurant’s courtyard, and
usually overcame their self-consciousness enough to ask strangers to
photograph them beneath the inn’s distinctive sign. After a period of
awkward hesitation, some would eventually drift into its bar for a closer
look. There they might have the best hope yet of contacting and com
muning with “ charismatic Clint.” 6 7
After visiting Carmel, columnist Jack Smith perceptively described
the town “as quaint as a fairy tale” yet strangely permeated by East
wood’s presence.6 8 Although his name and picture were everywhere,
seldom was he seen or experienced personally. Still, outsiders strolled
its streets in hopes that they might be fortunate enough to encounter the
man face-to-face. If that failed, a certain satisfaction could be derived by
following in Eastwood’s footsteps as they visited those places with which
he was closely associated. Such physical involvement not only intensi
fied their identification with Eastwood. It also enabled fans to relate to
him vicariously in ways which they found pleasurable and personally
meaningful.
That hundreds enacted this spiritual drama daily on the streets of
Carmel testified to Eastwood’s popularity and to the power his image ex
erts upon so many imaginations around the world. Ironically, when Pope
6 7 Ric Gentry. “ Charismatic Clint.” McCall’s June 1987: 136. While
Gentry employs this title in a slightly different context, it is certainly quite
a propos to the Carmel pilgrimage phenomenon as well.
6 4 Smith 22.
304
John Paul II visited the Monterey area in 1987, organizers deliberately
kept Eastwood out of the spotlight whenever possible for fear that His
Holiness might be upstaged.6 9 While Eastwood welcomed the papal
appearance and later met with the Pope, local Church officials worried
that Eastwood’s presence might inadvertently overshadow John Paul’s.
So eager were people to see Eastwood that the planners did not want to
risk the indignity of having a clamoring press and public suddenly rele
gate theHoly Father to a supporting role.
Given the commotion incited by an Eastwood appearance, the
papal advisors’ caution was hardly inappropriate. By the time John Paul
visited, Eastwood was well into the second year of his term and the
amazing scope and intensity of the star’s popularity had become quite
evident. Before the election, however, few guessed that the public’s
fascination with Eastwood would reach and be sustained at such a spir
ited level. His achievements in office only reinforced a screen image that
had by now been transcended and embellished by events in Carmel. As
an American icon, Eastwood personified the myth of the indomitable
self-made individual whose quiet confidence and steely determination
are tempered by a casual unpretentiousness and affability. Whether by
choice, caprice, or coincidence, Eastwood’s off-screen image had
blended completely with certain dimensions of his screen persona. His
mayoralty only accelerated and finalized the process, one for which the
media, especially its out-of-town members, were greatly responsible.
Their descriptions of Eastwood’s every move continually invoked com
6 9 Thom Akeman, “Eastwood Decides Not to Run Again for Carmel
Mavor.” Monterev Peninsula Herald 4 February 1988: 1.
305
parisons with The Man with No Name and Harry Callahan. Yet aside
from the prevailing facetiousness, there remained striking similarities
between the mayor and the deeper, most fundamental dimensions of his
screen persona. If it were otherwise, accounts of Eastwood’s political
career would not lend themselves so readily to the language of legend
and myth.
Without unduly distorting events, simplifying complexities, or
masking contradictions, a dramatic retelling of Eastwood’s mayoralty is
well-suited to the narrative structure of the classical western. It also in
vites elements from Eastwood's Harry Callahan tradition, particularly the
inspector’s frustration with bureaucratic intransigence and his willingness
to expedite matters in ways that are often as unorthodox and controver
sial as they are coolly efficient. Having chosen to remain a peaceful
outsider on the fringes of Carmel, Eastwood only entered the town’s af
fairs after he felt personally victimized by its arrogant leadership. Reluc
tant initially to become involved, he resorted to his special powers to right
the situation and the save the town when it could not save itself. The vil
lains neutralized, he lead Carmel through other crises and redirected the
town back on to a steady course. His work finished, Eastwood surren
dered power, withdrew for personal reasons, and resumed his life as a
private member of the community. As mayor, he eschewed self-aggran
dizement for social good and managed to accomplish his goals without
seriously abusing the excessive power at his disposal. Both of these
characteristics are typical of the classical western hero and the narrative
306
structure of which he is a part.7 0 It also epitomizes how this variation of
the western myth reconciles the tension between individual freedom and
social responsibility: the strong individual utilizes his unique powers not
to prey upon society but rather to advance and better it.7 1
“Eastwood’s legacy, some residents say, is not so much what he
did, but who he was. His notoriety had a greater impact on Carmel than
any zoning decision or development project he voted on.”7 2 Eastwood’s
mayoralty disrupted the small city. It thrust Carmel into the media spot
light and prompted an influx of tourists the likes of which its residents had
never seen and hope never to see again. For all its natural beauty,
charm, and gentility, the town became principally a Mecca for millions of
Eastwood’s fans. In their vast numbers and joyous anticipation, these
pilgrims to city hall and The Hog’s Breath Inn revealed that Eastwood’s
efficacy as a cultural artifact was far greater and intense than previously
imagined. His tenure as a public figure furnished a means through which
the people could tangibly express how deeply Eastwood’s image
touched their imaginations. They visited in droves, each with a glimmer
of hope that Eastwood might be encountered directly. Only a few were
so fortunate. For the others, they found that simply lingering about
“Clint’s hometown” and buying a souvenir T-shirt could soothe any dis
appointment they might have felt in having missed their hero.
7 0 Will Wriaht. Six Guns and Society: A Structural Study of the West
ern (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press,
1975) 152-153.
7 1 Wright 152-153.
7 2 Corwin 3.
Finally, Eastwood’s venture into politics furnished an opportunity to
compare the man with his screen characters. They were perceived as
having very much in common although Eastwood as a public figure
showed a far greater affinity with his gentler good ole boys than with the
sensationalized attributes of his gunslingers and cops. Perhaps what
most surprised his detractors were Eastwood’s intelligence, organization,
and competence. As mayor, he confirmed what many in the film industry
had known about him for years. Behind the relaxed demeanor, self-
deprecation, and basic shyness, Eastwood revealed that he was hardly
the one-dimensional lowbrow whom many critics had portrayed him to
be. His achievements as mayor succeeded in burying that notion. They
also solidified his status as a significant American con who will someday
soon inspire “stories about how the high plains drifter...[rode] into town
and set things right.” 7 3
7 3 “Politician Eastwood,” 18.
308
Chapter Eleven
Clint Eastwood: The Image (VIII)
I. Heartbreak Ridae (1986^
In the gallery of Clint Eastwood’s screen characters, Tom Highway
stands apart as its most audacious incarnation of the patriarchal hero.
Embodying those attributes of traditional masculinity considered most
repugnant by liberals and feminists, this aging Marine gunnery sergeant
furnishes a sharp contrast to the sensitive, gentler male who earned so
many plaudits during the Eighties. It is not only that Highway drinks too
much, discusses women in less than genteel terms, or resorts to violence
in settling disputes. These questionable tendencies are not unknown to
various Eastwood’s characters. Most fundamentally, these indiscretions
are ideological ones. Highway’s attitudes and actions, reminiscent of
Harry Callahan’s, reveal assumptions about the world which date High
way in an uncomplimentary way. As the film articulates repeatedly, Tom
Highway is an anachronism, another of Eastwood’s heroes butting heads
with contemporary values and fashionable sensibilities.
A self-confessed “gung-ho” Leatherneck, Highway displays the
very best and worst of that ambivalent stereotype. As one exasperated
officer informs him, “I actually don’t know whether to admire you or re-
309
sent the hell out of you.” A winner of the Congressional Medal of Honor
in Korea and a veteran of three tours in Vietnam, Highway is a fighting
man’s fighting man. Patriotic, incorruptible, and deeply loyal to the
Corps, he nonetheless has his problems during peacetime. The license
prevalent in foreign theaters of war does not serve Highway well when
he returns to stateside duty. His drinking and brawling frequently land
him in civilian jails where only a distinguished military record saves him
from imprisonment. Similarly, this man, described as “no one better to
be with in a hot LZ” and “ the best at small unit tactics,” finds himself
exiled to a supply company for disobeying and striking an officer. He
was fortunate to have escaped a court marshal. In the mold of previous
Eastwood characters, Tom Highway is a maverick whose remarkable
success under fire springs from courage, competence, and a cunning
honed by years of combat experience. His problems arise whenever his
unorthodox methods, however successful, pit him squarely against the
powers and prescribed procedures endemic to the organization for which
he works.
Critic Sheila Benson quite aptly describes Highway as a man “ at
odds with life itself.”1 Recent cultural changes have seemingly passed
him by and those that he does encounter leave him unimpressed. After
ordering a talkative rock singer to “shut your face, hippie!” he hears an in
credulous “did you say ‘hippie,’ man? There ain’t been no hippies
around here for centuries, man. You freeze dried or been doin’ hard
time?” Hardly receptive to the legitimacy of alternative life styles, High
1 Sheila Benson, “Eastwood Reworks Misfits in Routine Ridae.” rev. of
Heartbreak Ridae. Los Anaeles Times. 5 December 1986. pt. 4: 1.
310
way reveals that his expectations for gender roles are clearly and nar
rowly defined. Most women are categorized by the extent to which they
are sexually attractive, accessible, and accomplished. He also places
little stock in flamboyant rock musicians, sensitive, indecisive men, and,
not surprisingly, gays. Insulting references to anal sex and homosexual
feelings figure predominantly in the blue tapestry of profanity which High
way weaves throughout the film.
Highway is a man, who, when told that “ you never could see that
everything just doesn’t fit so neatly into right and wrong,” responds,
“ what else is there?” Such ideological rigidity underlies the four principle
conflicts facing Highway in Heartbreak Ridae. These struggles and their
eventual resolutions link Highway to other Eastwood characters. In spite
of their being labeled obsolete by critics, these heroes emerge trium
phantly from a series of conflicts with their wisdom vindicated and with
their dignity in tact. As quaint and archaic as Highway may appear, this
man of perseverance, strength, and practical experience has the final
word when all is said and done.
Tom Highway, however, has also come to the painful recognition
that he must change to some extent if he is to succeed. Oddly enough,
he shares much in common with one of Eastwood’s gentlest characters,
Honkvtonk Man’s Red Stovall. Each is his own worst enemy. Alcohol
abuse is only the most obvious of their self-destructive tendencies. And
each man is confronting the personal crisis of his “coming to the end of
it,” Red with existence itself and Tom with a military career that has given
his life direction and meaning. As an emphatic judge warns him, “ this is
311
your last chance!” and Highway fully grasps that with mandatory retire
ment fast approaching, this judicial pronouncement succinctly de
scribes his existential situation. Determined that his career should “end
as right as it was when I started,” Highway finds his most significant strug
gle lies within himself.
As successful as he has been on the battlefield, he has not en
joyed the same good fortune elsewhere. His new commanding officer,
Major Powers, is searching for any excuse to run him out of the Corps.
With his history of brawling and drunkenness, Highway finds he must
walk an uncommonly straight line to avoid the humiliation of retiring in
disgrace. He is also anxious to win back his ex-wife, Aggie. After years
of riding with him on an emotional roller coaster, she tired of their stormy
marriage, decided she deserved better, and left him to his wars and
whores. Any hope for renewing this relationship depends initially upon
Highway’s convincing Aggie that “an old dog can learn new tricks,” that
he can become sensitive to her needs in a mature relationship that pro
mises more than “ frontal assaults.” Tom Highway realizes that, as his
time is running out, he must make some very real changes if he hopes to
end one life with dignity and begin a new one with the woman he has al
ways loved.
Besides battling Major Powers, Aggie, and himself, Highway is
continually at war with the men of his reconnaissance platoon. Its most
audacious member is “Stitch” Jones, a glib ghetto hustler given to postur
ing, braggadocio, and far more style than substance. The self-pro
claimed “Duke of Cool, Earl of Funk, and Ayatollah of Rock ’n Rollah,”
312
Jones plans to slide slovenly through his enlistment, leave the Marines,
and shoot to fame and fortune as the next rock superstar. Highway, less
than enthralled with “Mr. Jones’” flamboyance and slack esprit de corps,
treats him accordingly. For his part, Jones is joined by the rest of the pla
toon in finding “ Gunny Highway . . . the sickest individual it’s been my
sorry pleasure to come across.” They cannot fathom the “bionic Marine,”
especially Highway’s grueling, unorthodox training techniques. Often he
fires an AK-47 assault rifle in their direction just to familiarize them with
“ the preferred weapon of your enemy.”
Much like Pale Rider. Heartbreak Ridae is another of Eastwood’s
affectionate directorial adventures into a famous Hollywood genre.2 Ad
hering to familiar conventions in retelling the popular story of a tough
professional’s transformation of misfits into heroes, Heartbreak Ridoe
typically enjoys its share of humorous moments. Two are particularly in
teresting because they explicitly poke fun at Eastwood’s image. When
Stitch, the film’s major comic relief, performs at a local club, he aims an
imaginary gun at the audience and sings “kiss me and ‘make my day.’”
Also the platoon’s most persistent griper, Jones embellishes his empty
retaliatory threats against Highway by mocking two of Eastwood’s most
famous attributes, the ominous stare and hushed monotone. Imitating
Eastwood’s breathy voice, Jones boasts to the others, “ Y’all check the
way he’s always squintin’ his eyes and tryin’ to talk all tough. I should
slap him upside the head myself just to call his bluff!” He never does, of
* Richard Schickel, “ Top Gunner,” rev. of Heartbreak Ridae. Time 8
December 1986: 103.
313
course, and eventually Jones and the others become responsible, cour
ageous, and better men for having endured their ordeal under Highway.
In reviewing the film, several commentators saw it as merely
Eastwood’s rather unimaginative up-dating of an old story.3 What did
surprise them was Eastwood’s using the dubious 1983 invasion of Gre
nada as the locus for demonstrating the platoon’s combat proficiency.
Unsettling political implications aside, most critics found little, apart from
its exceptionally vulgar repartee, that distinguished Heartbreak Ridae
from its generic predecessors. Of the four conflicts facing Highway, how
ever, the one with his platoon is really an ongoing, often humorous diver
sion from the more important battles he is fighting with his commander,
his ex-wife, and himself. Highway’s interaction with his men provides
laughs and adventure, but the significance of this film lies with his resolu
tion of the other three.
The Highway-Powers antagonism is a familiar one in Eastwood’s
films. It pits the man of practicality, dedication, and experience against
the incompetent, ambitious bureaucrat. Having finagled his way back
into his former reconnaissance outfit, Highway immediately finds himself
at odds with its new commander. In charge of his first combat unit, Pow
ers is determined that it should demonstrate the same organizational ef
ficiency and precision that earned him an exemplary reputation in supply
and logistics. Equally petty, inexperienced, and narrow-minded, Powers
is another in the long line of Eastwood’s ignorant, ineffective superiors.
So obsessed is Powers with proper procedure that he is rumored even
3 Benson 1; and, David Ansen, “ A New Beach for an Old Leather
neck,” rev. of Heartbreak Ridae. Newsweek 15 December 1986: 83.
314
“ to consult the Marine manual before he mounts his old lady, just so that
he performs in an orderly, proficient, military manner.” In contrast, High
way’s daily catechism demands of his men that they “adapt, improvise,
overcome.”
The clash between the two men is inevitable. During their first
meeting, Powers looks at Highway and mutters, “ This is the new Marine
Corps. . . . I ask for Marines— the division sends me relics.” He is espe
cially incensed that Highway, whose infamy as an insubordinate matches
his fame as a fighting man, represents an old style Marine whom Powers
both envies and despises. “Characters like you,” he sneers at Highway,
“are an anachronism. You should be sealed in a case that reads, ‘Break
glass only in the event of war.’ Just no tolerance for you old-timers who
think you know it better and can have it all your own way. Understand?”
Respectful but unimpressed, Highway responds tersely, “I understand a
lot of body bags get filled if I don’t do my job, sir.” The difference in their
perceptions of just what that job entails only intensifies the personal ani
mosity the two rivals feel for each other.
Following maneuvers which see the veteran’s clever tactics con
found and embarrass the unimaginative Powers, the major vindictively
confronts Highway with his defiant deviation from the official training
schedule. “You will follow my program to the letter, no questions asked!”
he seethes. Disgusted with Powers’ incompetence, Highway defends
himself and delivers a backhanded slap at the major’s leadership. “All I
know is I’ll get my ass shot off if I go into a hot landing zone with a pla
toon that doesn’t know its job.... If we go into combat tomorrow, you’ll
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plant half those men.” Only courageous intervention by Lieutenant Ring,
Highway’s neophyte platoon leader, saves his sergeant. Claiming that
he authorized “ Gunny Highway to freelance the men,” Ring denies Pow
ers the excuse he needed to rid himself of the old Marine. Frustrated, the
major turns to a different strategy. “I’m gonna run you out of the Corps,”
he tells Highway. “ You know what’s funny? You’re gonna do all the
work. Sooner or later you’ll disobey orders, circumvent procedures
again, or just get drunk. You can’t help it. You’re too old, too stupid, too
prideful to change. I’m gonna enjoy watching you fall.”
Not surprisingly, the running battle between Highway and Powers
concludes with the former’s vindication. During the invasion of Grenada,
Highway and the maturing Ring lead the platoon in a series of success
ful assaults against enemy positions. In each case, they “adapt, impro
vise, and overcome” by deviating from Powers’ tactics of waiting and
proceeding cautiously. The final hill taken, Powers arrives to berate the
two for attacking without the benefit of reinforcements and his leadership.
Perched on a stone wall and smoking a captured Cuban cigar, Highway
counters, “ With all due respect, sir, you’re beginning to bore the hell out
of me.” Before a conflict ensues, they are interrupted by the roar of the
regimental commander’s helicopter. It lands and Colonel Meyers joins
them to survey the situation. He listens as Powers describes recon pla
toon’s unauthorized attacks, its leaders’ breach of discipline, and the
impending ruin of Ring’s career for insubordination. “ This is a Marine
amphibious unit, Major,” barks the colonel incredulously. “My men are
hard chargers. Lt. Ring and Gunny Highway took a handful of young fire-
31 G
pissers, exercised some personal initiative, and kicked ass. Good work,
Lieutenant!” He dismisses Powers and disgustedly recommends that he
stays out of the infantry and returns to supply. Nodding in mock disdain
at Highway and his old friend, Sgt. Major Choozoo, Meyers gives them
a knowing smirk and growls, “what are you two sorry-assed individuals
looking at? Get the hell out of my LZ.” The battle won and their pride in
tact, the two veterans walk away.
Tom Highway is not the first of Eastwood’s heroes to be labeled
an anachronism. Like Harry Callahan, Highway’s unorthodox ways are
no longer the ways of the world. Yet while Harry decides to work as best
he can within the system, Highway opts to leave it. Retiring, however, is
not his way of admitting that he is wrong. The success achieved by his
men in combat clearly demonstrates his expertise as a fighting man. He
proved that convincingly to Powers’ humiliation and to his platoon’s
pride. Actually, his thoroughness as a professional soldier was never in
question. The larger issue facing Highway is whether or not he can
change enough to win back his ex-wife. In other words, can Highway
learn to combine sensitivity with his strength, “action and introspection, a
way to be strong and no longer silent?” 4
Aggie is another of Eastwood’s formidable women. No wilting
flower, she “always remembers bad whiskey, bad sex, and bad men”
and has been around too long to permit herself the luxury of illusions.
Divorced from Highway for several years, Aggie manages a modest but
comfortable life cocktailing at The Paradise, a nightclub near the Marine
4 Ellen Goldman, “From Dirty Harry to Caring Harrv.” Los Angeles
Times 23 December 1986, pt. 2: 5.
317
base. The day Highway arrives in town, he visits her at work. She is
genuinely startled to see him. He begins by telling her how great she
looks. Impatient and disgruntled, Aggie snaps, “ The lights are low....
Oh, please, save the banter for your bimboes. It’s late, I’m tired, my feet
hurt. What are you doing here?” Romantically involved with Roy Jen
nings, the nightclub’s owner, Aggie’s immediate response is self-protec
tion. Knowing her ex-husband as she does, she is anxious to prevent
Highway from doing anything that might jeopardize her future with Roy.
Aggie’s is a dilemma familiar to many women. Single, middle-
aged, and lacking a profession, she freely admits “ there’s no senior prom
looming on my horizon.” Jennings, who wants to marry her, represents
the promise of safety, steady companionship, and relative affluence. Like
most women, Aggie would like to have those things as part of a deeply
intimate, loving relationship but realizes that by this time in her life, that
possibility may well have eluded her. Aggie is struggling with whether to
“ settle” or not, to compromise by marrying a man who genuinely cares for
her, can offer her security, but with whom she is not in love.
Surreptitiously, Highway reads women’s magazines in hopes of
better understanding Aggie’s needs and concerns. This is Tom’s major
concession to contemporary sensibilities. At first, his research material
generates considerable embarrassment. When Stitch Jones and later
Aggie discover his copies of Bazaar. Femme, and Woman. Gunny High
way claims unconvincingly that they belong to someone else. What he
does read often bewilders him. “Intimacy,” “sensitivity,” and “meaningful
communication” are foreign, potentially emasculatory concepts for some-
318
one with his background and orientation. His experiences with women
have seldom risen above diversionary, superficial sexual conquests.
Not the best husband material, Highway spent much of his married life
fighting, either in foreign wars or at home with Aggie “raggin’ my ass.”
He never could make sense of the angry frustration she felt over his
emotional inaccessibility and his total dedication to the Corps. Now,
however, he is attempting to come to terms with their failed relationship.
Yet, as open-minded as he tries to be, Highway is still baffled by what he
reads. After an evening of thumbing through the likes of ‘The Sexual
Politics of Living Alone,” he tosses the magazine to one side and mur
murs, “‘sensual communication meaningful’ --panther piss!”
At times, Aggie both appreciates and feels justifiably suspicious of
Tom’s conscientious efforts to become a more feeling, sensitive man.
His new bent also intensifies her ambivalence toward him. As long as
he remained a “gung-ho Marine,” she knew better than to have anything
to do with him. Any future with Tom was totally out of the question. Put
ting him behind her, she had succeeded in making a new life for herself.
Tom’s unexpected reappearance, however, is undermining the safe,
comfortable future that Roy Jennings represents. Her repressed longings
for love and intimacy are now beginning to surface. Tom’s willingness to
try again under different circumstances has rekindled the old hopes and
feelings that their marriage never fulfilled. Faced with the possibility that
love with dignity is now a genuine option, Aggie finds she is struggling
with a critical decision.
319
Unwilling to assume a passive role, Aggie forces the issue. She
tracks down Tom at the annual regimental reception. Chit-chatting
while they dance, she kiddingly asks if he still reads his women’s maga
zines. Tom admits that he does. “ You really are trying to understand us,
huh?” “ As best I can, yeah.” She then wonders why he would go to all
this trouble to win her back. “Is that because you can’t be a Marine any
more and have nowhere else to go?” She needs to know if he truly
wants her: is his commitment to change an authentic one or merely an
act of desperation precipitated by his fear of impending retirement? Ag
gie must resolve her doubts about Highway. Although she is still in love
with him, she will not allow romantic wishful thinking to undercut her hap
piness. Finally, she tells Tom that Roy Jennings has asked her to marry
him. Before she can explain further, they are interrupted by Col. Meyers’
announcement that the regiment has been ordered on full alert. When
she turns to face Tom, he has vanished. Once again, his job takes pre
cedence over his private life, even at this crucial moment. Sensing this,
Aggie strolls off the empty dance floor, pondering whether to choose
comfort and security with Roy or to gamble on the possibility of a mean
ingful future with the man she loves.
Highway’s remaining conflicts are resolved in the film’s idyllic con
clusion. When the platoon returns from Grenada, they are welcomed
home by an enthusiastic crowd and a Marine band. It is Eastwood’s de
liberate rebuke to the hostility and indifference that characterized the re
turn of most Vietnam veterans. Basking in the warm reception, Stitch
Jones grins at Highway, “I guess this marchin’ bands and parade . . . is
320
pretty old stuff to you.” Highway, however, acknowledges the bittersweet
truth that “ this is the first time.” For Stitch, the homecoming caps off a
significant period in his life. Detesting Highway initially, he gradually
grew to appreciate the war hero’s experience and tenacity. Under fire,
Stitch discovered the courage and strength of character of which he
never believed he was capable. The slick artifice and macho posturing
were merely smokescreens to camouflage his insecurity and irresponsi
bility. Filled with pride and a new sense of self, Stitch confesses to High
way, “Sgt. Major Choozoo gave me some re-up papers.... To tell the
truth, Gunny, I’m a better Marine than I ever was a singer.... What about
you?” “No, I’ve had it. No room in this man’s Corps for me now,” High
way admits, but smiling at Jones he adds, “Besides, they’ve got you.”
Highway has come “ to the end of it” with the satisfaction that “it is as right
as when he started.” Appreciated by his country and vindicated by vic
tory, he can retire knowing that the Corps will be in good hands.
Surrounded by the strains of “ The Stars and Stripes Forever” and
the joy of his men’s reunions, Highway is a solitary figure. Making his
way through the crowd, he spots Aggie who is watching him. Her mere
presence signifies the choice that she has made. When he approaches,
she stands and waves a small American flag to congratulate him upon
his success and, perhaps for the first time, to affirm her recognition and
acceptance of the importance the Corps has played in his life. She
comes up to him but says nothing. She simply shrugs her shoulders and
sighs. It is hardly a sign of resignation, however. She is admitting that
she loves him, believes his commitment is genuine, and is willing to
321
take a chance on their trying once again. The ending is a familiar one in
Eastwood’s oeuvre: the hero and heroine walk away together toward an
uncertain but hopeful future.
Physically dominant and emotionally hardened, Tom Highway re
sembles many of Eastwood’s earlier heroes. His weaknesses are also
precedented. Tom’s self-destructive drinking recalls Ben Shockley and
Red Stovall. In some ways, Highway resembles Tightrope’s Wes Block.
Both men need to overcome their resistance to emotional intimacy. They
differ, however, in that Highway’s problems result less from a psycholo
gical dysfunction than from an ideological rigidity. Most significantly,
Highway lacks the enviable independence and autonomy of Eastwood’s
other tough guy heroes. Unlike Harry Callahan, whose omniscience and
competence never desert him, Highway cannot live on his own terms.
Trying to do so eventually broke up his marriage, landed him in jail, and
jeopardized his position in the Corps.
For his own good, he must learn to make concessions--some mi
nor, others quite major-to stem the self-destructive behavior that precipi
tates most of his problems. Powers’ dire prediction that the old Marine
will bring about his own downfall is not an unwarranted one. To High
way’s credit, he is able to recognize the precariousness of both his pro
fessional and personal situations and to correct them. With Aggie espe
cially, he must make a fundamental change in a lifelong orientation.
Most Eastwood characters are already so insightful and independent
that such changes, whether they are considered concessions or strate
gic adaptations, are unnecessary. Although a giant among men on the
322
battlefield, Tom Highway is a man whose accountability and professional
responsibilities impose limitations upon his autonomy. He shares that
with Everyman.
In spite of Highway’s responsiveness to feminist concerns, certain
critics found the man totally unregenerate. Pauline Kael, perennially de
termined to show Eastwood no quarter, claimed “it would take a board of
inquiry made up of gods to determine whether this picture is more offen
sive aesthetically, psychologically, morally, or politically. . . . This should
be the portrait of a pathetic vulgarian militarist with terrible anal-aggres
sive problems, but Eastwood presents him as a great fighting man, a relic
of a time when men were men.” 5 David Thomson would have preferred
to see Eastwood’s continuing to interrogate his image as he had done so
impressively in Tightrope. It would be far more interesting, he believed,
to portray Highway as a true anachronism who fails and must then deal
with the existential implications of that failure.6 Even the Department of
Defense was not placated by Highway’s transformation. Actually, it was
more concerned about the possible public relations fallout generated by
Highway’s vulgarity and his other stereotypical aberrations. The Penta
gon withdrew its support shortly before the film went into distribution.7
5 Pauline Kael, “The Good, the So-So, and the Ugly,” rev. of Heart
break Ridge. New Yorker 29 December 1986: 85.
6 David Thomson, “ Go Ahead, Make Me Interesting,” rev. of Heart
break Ridae. California February 1987: 29.
7 Jack Mathews, “Defense Dept. Backs Away from Ridae." Los Anae-
les Times 25 November 1986, pt. 6: 1,3.
323
Columnist Ellen Goldman disliked the film but applauded East
wood’s “coming in from the Dark Ages to begin ‘wondering.’” 8 As her
area of expertise is not the cinema, Goldman can be forgiven for foster
ing the popular misconception that Eastwood discounts feminine sensi
tivities and concerns. She is quite correct, however, that Heartbreak
Ridae supports her contention that masculinity requires a synthesis of
sensitivity and strength, of expressing feelings and acting decisively.9
Unlike his liberal critics, Eastwood finds Highway admirable in too many
ways to dismiss him outright. He refuses to buckle under to pressure
which would replace his traditional hero with contemporary images of the
“new man.” Yet Eastwood also dramatizes the importance of Highway’s
nurturing his gentler side. He needs to be sensitized and reeducated, to
learn the value of tenderness and integrate it with his toughness. As is
typical of Eastwood, he manges to have it both ways. Heartbreak Ridae
is Eastwood’s clearest statement of the possibility of a creative, benefi
cial synthesis of decisive action and emotional sensitivity. Certainly it is
not a denial of traditional masculine strength nor is it a dismissal of con
temporary calls for sensitivity. It is an argument for the necessity of both.
II. Bird (1988)
Beginning with Bronco Billv in 1980, Clint Eastwood has alter
nated between producing immensely successful genre pictures ("Clint
Eastwood persona films” he calls them) and making small, personal ones
8 Goldman 6.
9 Goldman 6.
324
with less box office potential.1 0 Ironically, these off-beat projects regularly
undermine and interrogate Eastwood’s popular image while simultane
ously enhancing his status among critics as “a major American director."1 1
Feeling as strongly about them as he does, Eastwood uses his charmed
relationship with Warner Brothers to secure that company’s cooperation
in financing their production and distribution. That Harry Callahan, Philo
Beddoe, and the others have grossed over $1.5 billion for Warners guar
antees Eastwood the artistic freedom and financial backing which others
in Hollywood can only envy. In the case of Bird, few filmmakers are ap
preciated, trusted, and respected enough to receive a major studio’s un
qualified support for such a chancy, esoteric film.
Initially, surprise and skepticism greeted Eastwood’s decision to
make a film about Charlie Parker, the legendary black alto saxophonist.
A musical genius whose startling innovations abruptly changed jazz for
ever, Parker died in 1955 at the age of thirty-four. A notorious heroin ad
dict, alcoholic, and womanizer, Parker lived as self-destructively off-stage
as he played creatively on it. The prototype of the doomed jazz musician,
he fell victim to his own excesses as he did to the racism and provincial
ity of post-war America. For jazz enthusiasts, Charlie Parker remains
among their most hallowed heroes, revered for his tremendous contribut
ions to their art form and as a martyr destroyed by bigotry, exploitation,
and aesthetic ignorance. What, his fans asked rhetorically, did “Dirty
,0Gary Giddins, “Clint Eastwood Shoots Us the Bird,” rev. of Bird. Es
quire October 1988: 144.
1 1 Richard Schickel, “More Than One Note at a Time,” rev. of Bird. Time
3 October 1988: 94.
Harry, the Man with No Name, [and] Gunnery Sgt. Tom Highway” pre
sume to know about jazz, Charlie Parker, and the black experience?1 2
Because country and western music appears so often in East
wood’s films, many people associate him with it exclusively. By exten
sion, they also link Eastwood with many of the darker, less enlightened
social attitudes commonly attributed to, but certainly not the exclusive
domain of America’s white working class.1 3 An understanding of the
black experience and any genuine appreciation of its cultural life also
seemed well beyond Eastwood’s purview. Eastwood and those close to
him are quick to correct these misconceptions. An avid jazz fan since
high school, the fifteen year-old Eastwood first heard Charlie Parker per
form at an Oakland concert. He remembers vividly the awe and excite
ment generated throughout the audience by Parker’s revolutionary, im-
provisationai style.1 4
This concert was only one of many as Eastwood’s teenage years
were immersed in jazz. He collected its records, read its magazines, and
played it on piano and cornet. He also listened to rhythm and blues, lied
about his age to perform in local clubs, and became acquainted with
many black musicians. Looking back upon his youth, Eastwood muses,
1 2 Jack Kroll, “Clint Makes Bird Sing,” rev. of Bird. Newsweek 31 Octo
ber 1988: 68.
1 3 Giddins 133.
1 4 “Clint Eastwood’s New Film was a Labor of Love.” Monterev Penin
sula Herald 17 February 1988: 17F; and, Kroll 68.
326
“I think I was really a black guy in a white body.”1 5 Having never taken
seriously those detractors who labeled his work racist, Eastwood claims
a life-long concern for the black community and its problems. “ A lot of it
[Bird] is out of the black experience, and I feel I know it as well as any
white person.”1 6 This contention was bolstered by the film’s positive re
ception among black audiences and the National Association for the Ad
vancement of Colored People’s presentation to Eastwood of “a special
award for using blacks in his films in positive, non-stereotypical roles."1 7
Hollywood has produced its share of film biographies about jazz
musicians. For the most part, they are overly romanticized and so filled
with historical inaccuracies and artistic distortions that they alienate jazz
fan and critic alike. The “stories of” Glenn Miller, Benny Goodman, Gene
Krupa, and Billie Holiday have all made their way to the screen. One of
the most disappointing for Eastwood was Young Man with a Horn
(1950), ostensibly the story of cornetist Bix Beiderbecke. “ The breathing
was off, the dubbing terrible, and the plot line--l thought, oh God, what
have they done, and I went out of the theater dejected,” he remembers. “I
felt that jazz had never been shown as the real, true American art. A
jazz movie has never been made by anybody who really liked jazz.”1 8
1 5 Kroll 68.
1 8 Nat Hentoff, “Flight of Fancy,” rev. of Bird. American Film September
1988: 26.
1 7 “Eastwood Reaps NAACP Honor.” Monterev Peninsula Herald 12
December 1988: 35.
,aGiddins 136.
327
Eastwood faced several formidable challenges in overcoming the
pitfalls of these earlier films. Insisting that neither the inimitability of Par
ker's music nor the excellent quality of today’s audio would be compro
mised, Eastwood turned to the expertise of Warner Brothers’ sound en
gineers. Utilizing state-of-the-art digital technology, they processed origi
nal recordings of Parker’s performances in order to isolate his saxo
phone from the other instruments. All that remained was the sound of
Parker’s playing alone. It became the core around which Eastwood re
corded new accompaniment. To further ensure authenticity, he invited
Parker’s former sidemen to record with “Bird” again, three decades after
his death. The resulting soundtrack honors the purity of Parker’s dis
tinctive style and does so with a technical brilliance which was simply
unimaginable in the Fifties.1 9
Another instance of Eastwood’s attention to detail called for Forest
Whitaker, who portrayed Parker, to learn “Bird’s” difficult fingerings. Whit
aker worked continuously with musical supervisor Lennie Niehaus to en
sure that his miming was as accurate as possible. The director also cast
actors who physically resembled their historical counterparts. Eastwood
hired many of the latter, including trumpeters Dizzy Gillespie and Red
Rodney, and particularly Parker’s common-law wife Chan Richardson, as
musical and historical consultants. One of Bird’s most remarkable pro
duction values was Eastwood’s re-creation of post-war New York City’s
West 52nd Street. Its noisy, crowded sidewalks and smoky jazz clubs ra
1 9 For a detailed but clear account of the technological processes in
volved in bringing Parker’s music to the screen, see Ric Gentry, “The
Sound of Bird,” Theatre Crafts November 1988: 52-53, 81-86.
328
diate with Eastwood’s obvious delight with the styles and sounds of that
era. Even among those who disliked the film and criticized its director,
few disagreed with Janet Maslin’s description of Eastwood’s involvement
in the film as a very personal “labor of love.” 2 0
The response to Bird followed a pattern reminiscent of the events
surrounding the reversal of Eastwood’s reputation four years earlier. Fol
lowing Tightrope. Eastwood suddenly became respectable for many
who, for various reasons, had dismissed him throughout his career. Bird
did much the same to elevate further Eastwood’s status as a filmmaker.
Part of the reason lies with the very nature of the material. It featured at
least one passionate concern for nearly every one who professed a so
cial conscience and an intellectual interest in the cinema. Jazz history,
the self-destructiveness of genius, substance abuse, black culture, and
racial discrimination are all heady issues which immediately qualified
Eastwood’s film for serious consideration. For the first time in its thirteen-
year history, American Film ran his picture on its cover as part of a fea
ture story by respected jazz critic Nat Hentoff.2 1 Film Quarterly finally ac
knowledged Eastwood was important enough to warrant an extensive
interview.2 2 Praise for the film and its director came from Time and News
week and Esquire’s cover story by Parker biographer and jazz historian
2 0 Janet Maslin, “Charlie Parker’s Tempestuous Life and Music,” rev. of
Bird. New York Times 29 September 1988, pt. 3: 19.
2 1 Hentoff 24-29, 31.
2 2 Ric Gentry, “Clint Eastwood: An Interview.” Film Quarterly Spring
1989: 12-23.
329
Gary Giddins praised Eastwood effusively and labeled Bird "the first hon
est jazz movie."2 3
Reacting to this enthusiasm as much as to the film, Eastwood’s
perennial nay-sayers counterattacked. Along with perfunctory questions
about Eastwood’s skills as a dramatist, issue was taken with Bird’s elu
sive, complex structure and its failure to unravel the mystery of Parker’s
tragic life. Bird’s narrative structure intentionally mirrors Parker’s musical
style. Described by Jack Kroll as “visual be-bop,” 2 4 the film consistently
makes unexpected temporal and spatial jumps between events in Par
ker’s life. At first they seem illogically fragmented yet as the work contin
ues they complement each other to create a meaningful whole. Flash
backs often occur within flashbacks and scenes are connected by a vari
ety of visual, emotional, and musical bridges. While Kroll spoke for many
who loved this attempt at melding form and content, others found it con
fusing and simply unnecessary.2 5 Eastwood was also accused of preten
tiously trying to show critics that he was capable of directing a serious
film in an uncharacteristically baroque style.2 6
Eastwood’s most consistent and literate detractor, Pauline Kael,
found the structure particularly counterproductive. Its obtrusiveness
2 3 Schickel, “More than One Note at a Time,” 94; Kroll 68-69; and, Gid
dins 133.
2 4 Kroll 69.
2 5 Francis Davies, “Bird on Film,” rev. of Bird. Atlantic November 1988:
93.
2 6 Stuart Klawans, rev. of Bird. Nation 31 October 1988: 433.
330
worked against any hope the film might have had of presenting fresh
insights into Parker’s personality. At its conclusion, he still remains an
enigma.2 7 She was seconded by an acerbic John Simon who agreed
that Bird left too many questions unanswered.2 8 For Kael, the growth of
Eastwood’s reputation as a filmmaker has become as much a source of
aggravation and consternation as has his image and his unwavering sta
tus as a star. She concluded her review of Bird by musing about the un
warranted admiration it received from her colleagues. Some of the credit
went to Eastwood’s obvious affection for his material, but other less pro
fessional factors were also at work. Jazz critics liked it, she explained,
because it dignified their art form and, by extension, them. Movie critics,
as star struck as anyone else, jumped at the chance of interviewing “a big
man’s-action star with an oeuvre.” And, finally, “ when a man who isn’t an
artist makes a film it’s just what they expect art to be: earnest and life
less.” 2 9 For Pauline Kael, 1988 was simply a repetition of the foolish re
spectability mania which erupted around Eastwood in 1985. Much like
the precocious child in “ The Emperor’s New Clothes,” she called upon
the critical community to regain its good sense and stop perpetuating the
hoax about Eastwood’s alleged talents.
Bird’s lack of definitive revelations about Charlie Parker should
come as no surprise to those familiar with Eastwood’s work. Motivational
2 7 Pauline Kael, “Bird Thou Never Wert,” rev. of Bird. New Yorker 17
October 1988: 110.
2 8 John Simon, “Sweet Bird of Untruth,” rev. of Bird. National Review 7
November 1988: 68-69.
2 9 Kael, “Bird Thou Never Wert,” 112.
331
inscrutability has been a trademark of Eastwood’s star persona since The
Man With No Name and pervades most of his films. Yet mystery is not
merely a dramatic device Eastwood utilizes to heighten audience in
volvement. It also reflects Eastwood’s belief that much of human behav
ior is ineffable and cannot in good conscience be reduced to tidy formu
lae. “How come anybody does anything?” he asks rhetorically. “Do all
the events of that person’s life really add up and tell you why?" Why Par
ker destroyed himself and his friend Dizzy Gillespie did not is a question
that Eastwood believes can never be adequately explained. “It isn’t sim
ple. I don’t know if anyone really knows why he did some of the things
he did.. .. Maybe there’s another way to tell the story, but I told the story
I had. I don’t really think you could get any closer to what some of the
reasons are, though.” 3 0
Carrie Rickey describes Eastwood’s heroes as society’s “marginal
men,” those who have trouble connecting with others.3 1 Certainly Charlie
Parker fits his profile. Of all Eastwood’s characters, he shares the most
with Honkvtonk Man’s Red Stovall. Each man challenged the gods by
following his personal vision to the end. Bird’s Parker would have ech
oed Red’s declaration “It’s my life and I’m gonna live it out on my own
terms or I’m not gonna live at all.” While Eastwood denies that he iden
tifies with Parker, he confesses a certain admiration for those men deter
mined to march to their own drummers.3 2 Underdogs like Red and “Bird”
3 0 Gentry, “Clint Eastwood: An Interview,” 21.
3 1 Carrie Rickey, “In Like Clint,” Fame November 1988: 128.
“ Giddins 138.
332
are characters for whom Eastwood admits he has tremendous sympathy.
He also acknowledges that he consistently privileges this concern and
appreciation throughout his work.3 3 This should not sound unusual com
ing from a shy loner whose private life and professional career have
been marked by continuous struggles against mainstream conventionali
ties. Eastwood is a man who has bucked the odds and succeeded,
much to the envy, consternation, and amazement of his disbelievers. De
spite his fame and power, he still maintains a guarded detachment from
the rest of the film industry. Similarly, he expresses an abiding interest in
the insecurities which isolate men from society.3 4 This suggests that
Eastwood’s films may function as journeys of self-discovery far more than
he might care to admit.
Psychological speculation aside, Charlie Parker is another of
Eastwood’s characters attempting to live life on his own terms. What dis
tinguishes him from the others is that, apart from his music, “Bird” fails
miserably. He cannot muster the necessary self-control and persever
ance to overcome his personal weaknesses. Unlike Tom Highway who
takes it upon himself to refute Major Powers’ dire predictions, Parker ful
fills the worst prophecies of his friends. Bird salutes an exceptional mu
sician but like Joe Kidd and Pale Rider, it interrogates another dark di
mension of individualism. Capitalists Frank Harlan and Coy LaHood are
ready to destroy anything or anyone who stands in their way. Defiant of
legalities and moral imperatives which might restrict their ambitions, they
3 3 Rickey 128.
3 4 Rickey 128.
333
exemplify the pitfalls inherent in economic individualism’s operating with
out internal or external restraints. Parker’s individualism is also out of
control and illustrates the limitations of simply “ doing one’s thing.” By it
self it is not enough. Without determination, resiliency, and a courage to
“ outlast yourself,” the person who chooses to “do it his way” has little
hope of fulfilling his dreams. As often as writers picture Eastwood as a
champion of individualism, his films reveal that he is no Pollyanna about
its dangers or the immense responsibilities it entails.
Despite Bird’s detractors, it further enhanced Eastwood’s reputa
tion as a serious filmmaker. His sincere, creative interpretation of difficult
material broadened his respectability and allayed old suspicions that
Eastwood was reactionary, racist, and a shallow Philistine. Having com
pleted his most personal, most esoteric work, it was time for the less
heady demands of a “ Clint Eastwood persona film.” His choice was an
other of those most Eastwoodian of films, a new addition to the Harry
Callahan series.
H I. The Dead Pool (19881
As satisfying as its creation had been for Clint Eastwood, Bird had
also taxed his stamina. Coordinating his Carmel mayoral responsibilities
with his directorial ones was no mean feat. Often after filming all day, he
would fly north that evening to handle city business or preside over a
council meeting. At its conclusion, Eastwood would fly back to Los Ange
les in time to sleep a few hours before returning to the set later that morn
ing. Commuting became a frequent and eventually an exhausting rou
tine. It comes as no surprise, then, that Eastwood would not allow his
334
next project to drain the time and energy he needed to handle civic af
fairs. Set in nearby San Francisco and shot mostly at night to accommo
date the star’s busy schedule. The Dead Pool would be directed by
Buddy Van Horn and produced by David Valdes, two Malpaso regulars.
Freed from these arduous tasks, Eastwood only faced the challenge of
bringing his character to life. Knowing Harry Callahan as well as he did,
it called for little more than Eastwood’s checking “ to see how he is at this
stage of his life.” 3 5 It is certainly doubtful if Eastwood ever starred in a
film that demanded less from him than The Dead Pool. With everything
else on his shoulders, its timing could not have been better.
Seventeen years after Dirtv Harrv. the inspector is noticeably
older but no less omniscient, independent, or lethal with his .44 Magnum.
He remains very much the same man he has been throughout the entire
series. He still fights criminals one minute and wrestles petty bureau
crats the next. The most significant change for Harry is the public’s per
ception and positive estimation of him. In many ways, its sensibilities
have caught up with him. Harry is now a respected celebrity. The once
disapproving district attorney gratefully acknowledges his role in winning
the conviction of an infamous crime boss. Admirers stop him in restau
rants to offer their congratulations, ask for autographs, and tell him “we
need more cops like you.” A local magazine runs his picture on its cover
to highlight a feature story entitled “Harry Callahan: San Francisco’s
Wyatt Earp.” Finally, television reporter Samantha Walker attempts to
enlist his cooperation in producing an in-depth news documentary about
3 5 Tom Green, “ Clint Faces Political and Film Decisions,” USA Today 2
February 1988: D2.
his colorful career. Once considered a dangerous pariah, “a Neander
thal” whom the police department needed to begin “winnowing out,”
Harry has now become a popular hero. Such fanfare, of course, only ag
gravates the irascible Harry who jealously guards his private life. He
also finds the media attention particularly frivolous and self-serving. He
complains that it merely makes investigating homicides that much more
difficult.
Although hardly the best of the Dirtv Harrv sequels, The Dead
Pool is not without its significance. It surpasses all of its predecessors
in identifying Harry Callahan with Clint Eastwood. Since he became a
star, critics and fans alike have confused Eastwood with Harry and The
Man With No Name. While he recognizes how instrumental this has
been for his success, Eastwood confesses his weariness with the misre-
cognition.3 6 Ironically, this Malpaso film appears to perpetuate the mis
conception intentionally by meshing the two as never before. There is,
however, an important distinction between The Dead Pool’s linkage of
actor and role and that most common association performed by the press
and public. The latter, beginning with Harry as its frame of reference,
have generally inferred characteristics about Eastwood’s personality
based on Harry’s attitudes and actions. Pool reverses this process.
When it checks in to see how Harry “is at this stage of his life,” it takes
Eastwood’s critical and popular status in 1988 as its starting point.
Respected and admired as never before, Harry’s reputation within
his community mirrors that of Eastwood’s as an international star and
3 6 Rickey 116.
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acclaimed filmmaker. “Anachronism,” “ dinosaur,” “killer,” and “Neander
thal” are noticeably absent. Now the police department plans to coopt
Harry’s new popularity for its public relations and recruiting programs.
This reversal of Harry’s standing parallels the transformation of East
wood’s image from dangerous, low-brow reactionary to “ American icon”
and “major American director.” The intense excitement generated by the
Carmel campaign and his take-charge political style only intensified the
media’s persistent interest in the man. Harry is similarly pursued by
those anxious to play upon the growing fascination with him. Further
more, both Eastwood and his character guard their privacy and cooper
ate primarily with those journalists whom they consider reputable and
professionally responsible.3 7
Given how closely The Dead Pool’s Harry is modeled after East
wood, it becomes intriguing to speculate upon the extent to which the film
accurately reflects the star's perspective. Of particular relevance is
Pool’s depiction of characters from the entertainment and journalism in
dustries. Previous films coupled with Eastwood’s off-screen comments
and actions suggest that Harry is a window on the spirit if not the letter of
Eastwood’s sentiments. Eastwood, of course, has always viewed Harry
as a larger-than-life figure of fantasy operating in a world peopled by
3 7 Harry’s distaste for reporters is aimed at those who interfere with his
investigations, intrude upon his private life, and place ambition before
public responsibility. For its part, Eastwood’s inaccessibility has drawn
considerable ire from the press, particularly during the campaign when
he reserved his interviews mostly for Carmel and Monterey reporters.
For one journalist’s account of her frustration in failing to track down the
elusive star, see Sherry Angel, “ Clint Eastwood Stands Apart,” 50 Plus
November 1985: 34-37,39.
337
other easily recognizable social types. While this streamlines the narra
tive flow, it also allows Eastwood to reduce them conveniently to carica
tures and thereby insinuate ertain very unattractive connotations about
them. The Dead Poors most obvious examples are obnoxious show
business celebrities and news reporters, social types with whom East
wood has had considerable experience. Because the film takes itself
less seriously than the earlier ones, it debunks Harry’s aggravations
more often with humor than with polemic. At the very least, it looks at
Eastwood’s industry with a satirical eye, mocking the poor taste, egotism,
and shrill pretentiousness which plague it. Having endured such people
for years, Eastwood must surely have enjoyed lampooning them in one
of his films. Yet in a serious vein, The Dead Pool also decries the lack of
social responsibility in product and process so prevalent among those
who produce images for mass consumption.
Running throughout the series is Harry’s distaste for incompe
tence, selfish ambition, and artifice. He despises pretentiousness and ef
forts to masquerade superficiality as substance. Liberals, politicians, and
bureaucrats are typically the most guilty of such flaws. The Dead Pool
transfers much of Harry’s antagonism to the media. It begins within his
own department when Lt. Ackerman, the slick public relations chief,
wants Harry to accommodate the press by making himself more available
for interviews. While Ackerman resents Harry’s refusal (“I’m not a dog
and pony act.... That’s not my style.”), he does approve of Harry’s new
partner, Al Quan. Since Al is an experienced professional, Harry wel
comes the choice as well. He rolls his eyes in disgust, however, when
338
Ackerman gleams, “Personally, I think teaming Callahan with a Chinese-
American would be very good for the department’s image.”
After rock star Johnny Squares is found dead on the set of Hotel
Satan. Harry and Al investigate. It marks the first of several encounters
with representative celebrities from the image industries. The film’s di
rector is Peter Swan-compulsive, arrogant, and insufferably abrasive.
Talented enough when confined to the perverse material of slasher
films, the pony-tailed, black leathered Swan has all the affectations and
strident self-seriousness reminiscent of certain film school impresarios.
When asked about his enemies, he acknowledges that they are legion.
Anyone of them might harbor enough hate to try framing him, to make it
appear that he is the serial murderer Harry is after. “It’s jealousy, you
see,” Swan explains to a skeptical Callahan. “They envy my talent so
much they wish to destroy it.”
A thoroughly disreputable character, Johnny Squares built his no
toriety upon drugs. He sang about them, abused them, and eventually
died when his killer forced an overdose down his throat. Although Harry
wants to solve Square’s case, the singer’s death hardly arouses Harry’s
passion for revenge. He gives no indication of mourning the premature
death of this young talent. A later victim, film critic Molly Fisher, is famous
for her erudite, sarcastic reviews. Although slightly younger and more
glamourous than Pauline Kael, she inspires comparisons with East
wood’s most accomplished critic. Talk show host Nolan Kennard, known
to sensationalize and exploit public issues before live audiences, dies
when a bomb explodes beneath his car. Finally, Samantha Walker, a
339
television reporter who confuses the public’s right-to-know with her own
career ambitions, nearly becomes the proverbial cat killed by her own
curiosity.
While obnoxiousness is certainly no guarantee of incompetence,
self-aggrandizement and irresponsible ambition usually foster it. Harry/
Eastwood finds them particularly detrimental given the immense ideolo
gical power inherent in the apparatuses of government, entertainment,
and journalism. Because these characteristics often eclipse the social
responsibility incumbent upon those who occupy these influential posi
tions, Harry finds himself constantly at odds with them. Whether they are
bureaucrats, politicians, or image makers, he questions their integrity,
courage, and priorities. After Samantha informs him that she wants the
exclusive story of his “ colorful career,” Harry snarls, “ You’re not interested
in me.... You people are always interested in death and mayhem but
you don’t care who you have to steamroll over to get the story.... I don’t
like people going around saying they’re going to kill me and I don’t like
journalists trying to raise their ratings on the fact that they might suc
ceed.” Later he reminds her to start “ thinking about your responsibility to
the public.” Harry not only hates such exploitation for personal gain; he
also detests hearing it rationalized as social service. The standards of
performance and commitment to the public welfare which Harry applies
to others are identical to those to which he holds himself.
For all the interrogation of media personnel and their professional
ethics, The Dead Pool is first and foremost a “ Clint Eastwood persona
film.” It conforms to its predecessors’ familiar narrative formula. Once
340
again, Harry is after a vicious serial killer, a psychopathic fan of Peter
Swan’s films named Harlan Rook. In addition to stopping Rook, Harry
must also endure Ackerman’s bureaucratic nonsense, handle his usual
array of small, nasty jobs, and protect himself from the gunmen of a vin
dictive gangster. Harry manages to kill six of them in two violent shoot-
outs. Pool also includes a new variation of the series’ most memorable
feature. While foiling a major felony, Harry delivers another callously
humorous line which will invariably be reprised during the film’s violent
climax. This time, he and Al stumble upon the robbery of a Chinese res
taurant. While thugs hold its clientele at gunpoint, Harry slips in through
the back door and slides noiselessly into a rear booth. As the panicked
gang leader threatens and curses the terrified patrons, Harry beckons to
him, “You forgot your fortune cookie.” “ What!” screams the incredulous
hood as he watches Harry unroll the small strip of paper. “It says,” Harry
chuckles, “‘You’re shit outta luck,”’ and immediately opens fire. During
the ensuing gun battle, Harry wipes out all but one of the gang. Al blocks
the survivor’s escape and subdues him with a karate kick to the head.
Having observed Al’s skill for the first time, Harry mockingly repeats Ack
erman’s shallow assessment: “Personally, I think teaming up with a Chi-
nese-American is g-o-o-o-d for the department’s image.”
Violence, cynical humor, and a steadfast allegiance to a personal
moral code have characterized Harry from the beginning. Recalling the
inspector’s career, David Ansen remarks, “ you forget that he used to in
spire inflamed political arguments. Now he’s like everyone’s favorite
341
cantankerous uncle.” 3 8 The critical reaction to Harry in 1988 is a far cry
from the denunciations he earned during the Seventies. Yet Harry’s at
titudes and actions in The Dead Pool vary little from those in his earlier
films. Functioning as a fixed point along an ideological continuum, Harry
was perceived as a champion of the far right after the original film ap
peared in 1971. Standing firm throughout the next two decades, Harry
watched the tide of that continuum gradually shift beneath his feet. He
held his position while others readjusted theirs. Eventually Harry be
came an artifact of cultural revisionism.
What critics initially found so shocking had lost its sting over two
decades. Several factors account for this. First, the Reagan years saw
Americans swing increasingly to the right. Fed up with crime and the
impotence of liberal approaches to it, audiences responded to Harry’s
decisive, no-nonsense methods and to the vicarious satisfaction of
watching him punish society’s predators. Critics were also beginning to
take the films less seriously, to conceptualize them as the fantasies
Eastwood claimed they were. This depreciated somewhat the uproar of
civil libertarians. Freed to interpret Harry in less literal terms, most critics
chose to view the series as other than an extended reactionary tract. Ad
ditionally, the series’ inclusion of graphic violence, once considered ex
cessive, paled in comparison to the new wave of gory bloodletting un
leashed by the likes of Sylvester Stallone, Chuck Norris, and Arnold
Schwartzenegger. Measured against these competitors, Harry projected
3 8 David Ansen, “Reactivating Action Heroes,” rev. of The Dead Pool.
Newsweek 25 July 1988: 58.
342
a patrician dignity marked more for its moral rectitude and personal in
tegrity than an inclination toward mindless mayhem.
Finally, Eastwood’s growing respectability as a filmmaker and as
a public figure mitigated the stronger doubts about his famous character.
It exemplified a twist on the familiar fallacy of guilt-by-association which
once saw Eastwood branded a fascist in the same way Harry was. By
the time of The Dead Pool’s release, Harry had become innocent-by-
association: could this character really be so dangerous and objection
able if a responsible man of Clint Eastwood’s stature portrayed him as a
hero? Stars, after all, bestow meaning upon their characters long before
they utter a word. When perceptions of Eastwood changed, so too did
those of Harry. With Eastwood’s public and professional respectability
firmly established by 1988, Harry, like certain famous politicians, had
amassed a Teflon coating.
Still, it is instructive to examine how consistently The Dead Pool’s
Harry resembles his earlier incarnations. An analysis of the film’s final
sequence indicates that it incorporates and repeats many of its prede
cessors’ motifs. Several of these are the very ones which fueled the
controversy over Harry and earned him an infamous reputation. In this
latest film, they generate scarcely a ripple. In fact, they are appreciated
as pleasing indications that time has not diminished the graying inspect
or’s courage, competence, or callous wit. Echoing Sudden Impact. Harry
again becomes romantically involved with a woman in danger. He and
Samantha Walker overcome their initial antagonisms, weather an attack
by gangsters, and eventually become lovers. Their affair is a minor aside
343
in the film but it does serve the essential function of personalizing Harry’s
pursuit of the villain. When Harlan Rook wounds Al Quan and kidnaps
Samantha, Harry assumes his familiar role of the avenging angel. Once
again he is out to settle a score with a criminal who has harmed him or
someone close to him. Merging professional responsibilities with per
sonal vendetta is quintessential Harry. Although it occurs in every film, by
1988 such behavior is no longer heady enough to incite the hand wring
ing it once did.
After Rook abducts Samantha, Harry tracks them to a warehouse
near Fisherman’s Wharf. Reminiscent of Dirtv Harry and Sudden Impact,
the villain threatens to kill his hostage if Harry does not put down his
gun. Harry neither relies on his superb marksmanship as he did with
Scorpio nor can Samantha distract her assailant as Jennifer Spencer did
in Sudden Impact. Realizing that even a perfect shot cannot prevent
Rook from cutting her throat, Harry surrenders his gun. In the process he
creates enough confusion for Samantha to escape before Rook recovers,
locates the Magnum, and begins hunting for them. Once again an un
armed prey as he was in Maanum Force. Harry relies on his years of
experience to outwit his pursuer.
The chase ends when Rook unwittingly fires and misses Harry
with the pistol’s final round. Having lost him in the darkness, Rook stops
before a wooden shed where he believes Harry is hiding. After shouting
several threats, he hears a nonchalant voice declare, “You're out of bul
lets.” Startled, Rook turns and stares at a forbidding figure slowly materi
alizing from a thick cloud of steam. With similar final entrances in A Fist-
344
ful of Dollars and Sudden Impact. Eastwood again dons the dramatic
trappings of an avenging Angel of Death. Armed with a whaler's har
poon gun, Harry also perpetuates the series' fascination with unique
weapons of devastating power and destructiveness. Walking straight
toward the wide-eyed Rook, Harry aims the harpoon and asks rhetori
cally about the empty gun, “ And, you know what that means?” Too ter
rified to answer, Rook stands frozen before him. “ You’re shit outta luck,”
Harry explains with a snarl and fires the harpoon, impaling Rook against
the shed’s wall.
This summary execution of a nasty criminal recalls Harry’s use of
a Law’s Rocket to obliterate terrorist Bobby Maxwell in The Enforcer.
Having run out of bullets, both villains are defenseless when Harry finally
corners them. Once again, the inspector assumes and exercises the
duties of judge, jury, and executioner. Having killed Rook, Harry ap
proaches the body, puts down the harpoon gun, and picks up his revol
ver. Staring contemptuously at the corpse, he points the Magnum in the
air, slowly pulls the trigger, and listens confidently as the hammer strikes
an empty casing. It confirms two of Harry’s most distinctive qualities, his
omniscience, and his experience. It also plays upon the famous question
from Dirtv Harrv. “did he fire six shots or only five?” Harry always knows
the answer and when he twirls the pistol and squints scornfully at Rook’s
body, he makes it quite clear that the demented fan was badly over
matched. As Harry turns and strolls past the rushing police and news
media, Capt. Donnelly inquires about Rook. His perverse humor show
ing no signs of mellowing, Harry motions to the shed wall and comments,
345
“He’s hanging out back there.” Avoiding police and press, Harry is
joined by Samantha and they walk away together, reenacting a familiar
closing to many an Eastwood film.
This climactic sequence compares favorably with any in the series.
In spite of the film’s humor and comparative lightness, it lacks for none of
the vengeful violence and extralegality which typifies the others. It cer
tainly did not deter audiences. The Dead Pool grossed thirty million dol
lars during its first seventeen days in theaters.3 9 Reviewers treated it as
another among the many popular summer action pictures and minimized
the issues raised by Harry’s misanthropy and unorthodox methods. Both
on and off screen, Harry’s new respectability replaced former perceptions
that branded him a dangerous threat to society.
Typically, critics were far more fascinated with the actor who
played the inspector. While recognizing the film’s shortcomings, they en
joyed watching Eastwood return for another round as his most famous
character. Vincent Canby remarked that “nothing can disguise the fact
that it’s a mini-movie in the company of a mythic figure.” 4 0 Richard Cor
liss also alluded to Eastwood’s permanence as a cultural icon, one
4
whose fame rests on “his unique brand of Zen surliness.” As unexcep
tional as he found the film, Corliss concluded “when it comes to sulfur-
3 9 Ric Gentry, “ Van Horn Gets a Handle on Directing Clint Eastwood,”
Los Anaeles Times 4 August 1988, pt. 6: 6.
4 0 Vincent Canby, “Dirty Harry Fights for Life and Privacy," rev. of The
Dead Pool. New York Times 13 July 1988. Dt. 6: 6.
346
ous star quality, Eastwood has it.” 4 1 Michael Wilmington concurred, find
ing the actor older now “but Eastwood’s charisma remains rock-solid,
smokey-soft, and a pleasure to watch.” 4 2 Realizing Eastwood was capa
ble of more serious fare, the critics backed off for the most part and ac
cepted The Dead Pool as a minor policier whose main curiosity was
Eastwood/Harry at this time in their lives.
Released strategically to exploit the traditional popularity of ac
tion films with summer audiences, The Dead Pool appeared midway be
tween Bird’s premiere at Cannes and its screening by the Metropolitan
Museum of Art in New York. In a matter of weeks, the flip sides of Clint
Eastwood’s image were blatantly in evidence as perhaps never before.
He had astonished distinguished critics with his sensitive interpretation of
Bird’s difficult material and simultaneously delighted less discriminating
audiences with Harry’s insensitive manhandling of nearly everyone.
While the emphases and values of the two groups are not necessarily
mutually exclusive, this duality does exemplify the two most common
perceptions of Clint Eastwood in 1988. Yet it was a contradiction that no
longer generated the consternation it once did. Few people had trouble
reconciling them. Eastwood remained an international star of immense
popularity and in America particularly his status as a cultural icon was
thoroughly established. At the same time, his growing respectability as
4 1 Richard Corliss, “Harry Sundown,” rev. of The Dead Pool. Time 18
July 1988: 73.
4 2 Michael Wilmington, “‘Dirty’ Harry Adds Splash to Dead Pool.” rev.
of The Dead Pool. Los Anaeles Times 13 July 1988: 12.
347
a filmmaker, especially as a self-reflexive one, had earned him artistic re
cognition and acclaim.
Yet what has consistently preoccupied fans and critics for over
twenty years is Clint Eastwood himself. His star image remains at the
center of his work, whatever the subject, whomever the character, and
whether or not he directs or merely stars in the film. Central to East
wood’s significance is the role his star image plays as a unit of meaning.
Having surveyed his films and the evolution of that image, it is now time
to develop an ideological conceptualization of the work performed by
Clint Eastwood as a cultural artifact. From this will come an understand
ing of his popularity, its significance, and its social and cultural value.
348
Chapter Twelve
Clint Eastwood: Popularity, Ideology, and Assessment
I. Introduction
Ideological criticism explains the popularity of a film, a genre, or an
actor by examining its dynamic relationship with certain cultural tensions,
anxieties, and ambiguities prevalent during its tenure as a popular media
text.1 Its power to capture the public’s imagination depends upon the in
tensity and depth of those specific cultural contradictions and upon the
efficacy of the resolution to those contradictions which the text provides to
audiences. Clint Eastwood’s popularity is best understood as a function
of the significant ideological work performed by his star image. Per
ceived as a genuine personification of the traditional American mascu
line ideal, Eastwood, through his activities on screen and off, perpetu
ates a belief in the integrity and viability of that sex role model. Since be
coming a star in the late Sixties, Eastwood has also represented and re
inforced certain conservative cultural values and social attitudes. Poli
1 See John G. Cawelti, The Six-Gun Mystique (Bowling Green, Ohio:
Bowling Green University Press, 1971); Richard Dver. Stars (London:
British Film Institute, 1979); and, Tania Modleski, Loving with a Ven
geance: Mass Produced Fantasies for Women (Hamden. Connecticut:
Archon Books, 1982).
349
tical events during the last decade confirmed that these sentiments were
far more prevalent than Hollywood or the liberal critical establishment
imagined in 1970.2 That Eastwood has maintained his stardom for so
long testifies to the magnitude and pervasiveness of these values and
contradictions. His longevity also demonstrates the extent to which “Clint
Eastwood” strikes a profoundly responsive chord amid the worries, fears,
and dreams of his audience.
Throughout most of his career, commentators have joined the pub
lic in blurring the distinctions between Eastwood and his characters.
They have also tended to reduce his star image to one dimension, see
ing Eastwood merely as the rugged, tough loner of the westerns and
Harry Callahan series. Similarly, efforts to explain his enormous appeal
have generally been simplistic, appearing for the most part in those com
mentaries lamenting Eastwood’s status as star and social phenomenon.
While several critics have explored the dynamics underlying his popular
ity, most have stopped well short of adequately explaining it. To some
extent, this represents the residue of years of critical scorn. Primarily,
however, it is due to Eastwood’s continual self-reflexiveness which has
made his ideological significance more complex than acknowledged in
those cursory surveys of his career.
David Thomson’s claim that “Eastwood can be ironic about his act,
but he keeps going back to it” is quite correct.3 For over a decade, the
2 Richard Grenier, “The World’s Favorite Movie Star,” Commentary
April 1984: 65.
3 David Thomson,“ Cop on a Hot Tightrope.” Film Comment Sep-
tember-October, 1984: 65.
actor/director has managed to sustain his popularity with groups which
are ideologically antagonistic. The first, his vast following among gen
eral audiences, experiences through Eastwood the symbolic resolution
of certain wide-spread, deeply felt social and psychological tensions. For
them, he reinforces the relevance and value of specific traditional ideolo
gical notions. The other group, a small influential cadre within the critical
community, delights in what it perceives as the star’s interrogation of
those very same notions. Eastwood, then, epitomizes Richard Dyer’s
principle of “structured polysemy.” 4 Throughout the history of his star
image, Eastwood has signified a finite body of related but often conflict
ing meanings. Of these, each group has privileged and appropriated
those in which it discovers Eastwood’s expression and affirmation of its
beliefs and values. In other words, while Eastwood denotes traditional
masculine sex role characteristics, what he connotes in regards to them
is not perceived consistently the same way by everyone who claims to
admire him. Ironically, these two segments of society demonstrate an
appreciation for Eastwood that they rarely show for each other. Both
groups are energized by the same urgently felt cultural contradictions;
both experience Eastwood’s image as addressing their concerns; but,
they would disagree as to his significance and cultural value. Being ap
preciated by each allows Eastwood to have it both ways. It enables him
to maintain his enviable position as a popular star with conservative au
diences and as an artistic success with liberal critics.
4 Dyer 72.
351
This final chapter endeavors to explicate Clint Eastwood’s popu
larity by placing it specifically within the context of the contemporary crisis
in masculine sex role expectations and identity. Following a description
of that crisis, the chapter will discuss Eastwood’s popularity as a func
tion of the ideological work his image performs in reconciling certain cul
tural contradictions. Drawing upon this survey of his films and star
image, it will then abstract certain significant reoccurring assumptions
and beliefs which constitute “ the ideology of Clint Eastwood.” The chap
ter concludes by evaluating the ideological work performed by his films
and star image, questioning the extent of its value, and exploring its
worth in the development of a new masculine sex role model.
II. The Masculinity Crisis
Clint Eastwood rose to stardom during the turbulence of the late
Sixties and early Seventies. Consumed by the prolonged trauma of Viet
nam, the bitter cultural confrontations that it triggered, and the recogni
tion of the cinema as a dynamic, relevant art form, those most vocal
about motion pictures virtually ignored Eastwood and his swift ascen
dancy. Among critics, within political movements, and on college cam
puses, most people were far too preoccupied with relevance to notice as
general audiences quietly bestowed superstardom upon him. Yet the
actor’s rise was hardly irrelevant to the ideological conflicts erupting at
that time. It represented a response to many of the same pervasive con
tradictions and tensions which inspired those proponents of social
change and radical experimentation. Eastwood came to signify, how
ever, not these resolutions but rather those diametrically opposed to
352
them. Similarly, for many audiences he soon represented a virulent
reaction against the ideas, values, and lifestyles of a suspect counter cul
ture.
Intense interrogation and rebellion characterized this time of “ago
nizing reappraisal.” 5 Through thought, word, and deed nearly every di
mension of cultural life was challenged. Political, religious, and eco
nomic institutions came under attack. Normally suppressed psychologi
cal and social tensions burst into the open, overriding appeals to good
taste, tradition, patriotism, and other hegemonic devices. Many people
have celebrated these years for their tremendous exuberance, creativity,
and liberation; others have perceived the same phenomena as sheer li
cense, pretension, and anarchy. Regardless of which view is privileged,
the late Sixties and early Seventies do boast a legacy of heightened self
reflexiveness, of critically questioning and redefining identity. At the time,
this was expressed openly in heated debates over the nation’s character,
its values, and what kind of role it should play as a world power. It also
manifested itself in the outbreak of self-consciousness by minorities who
struggled to rediscover, reformulate, and assert their historical and cul
tural distinctiveness. Most of all, the heightened awareness of identity
5 “Agonizing reappraisal” appeared facetiously in a delightful Seven
Up soft drink commercial televised during the early Eighties. It satirized
the intensity and self-seriousness of the Sixties’ cultural challenges
along with its hip romanticism and bizarre fashions. Appearing as it did
during the Reagan years, it indicates as much about that period’s cyni
cal rejection of the Sixties’ idealism as it does about the latter’s naivete
In any case, “agonizing reappraisal” is quite appropriate in characteriz
ing the era’s bittersweet spirit.
353
was experienced in individuals’ very private struggles with such existen
tial questions as personal commitment, life style, and gender role.
Energizing this ideological interrogation were long-standing frus
trations and discontents with the dominant ideology and its institutions.
While the War in Vietnam cannot by itself account for the emergence of
the counter culture, it did serve as a catalyst. The anger and cynicism felt
for ‘The Establishment” and its conduct of the war gradually undermined
trust in conventional lifestyles, values, and traditions. The televised hor
rors of the battlefield and the government’s machinations to neutralize its
opponents only reinforced the betrayal felt by large numbers of Ameri
cans. In this climate of skepticism, harsh attacks on “The System,” most
of which would have been rejected or simply ignored a short time before,
now found ready listeners. Various critiques, some quite radical, con
fronted many of the fundamental ideological assumptions upon which
American culture had operated for centuries. In hindsight, two were par
ticularly important and fostered successful, influential social movements.
The environmentalists, or “ecologists” as they were called then, endeav
ored to rethink the relationship between human beings and their planet.
In the process of reformulation, they undercut capitalism’s deeply in
grained understandings about property, progress, and the quality of life.
Second, the women’s movement challenged narrowly defined gender
roles and the inequities suffered by women in the marketplace. Femi
nists advanced the critique even farther with extensively developed anal
yses and theories designed to explicate the insidiousness of patriarchal
ideology.
354
Central to the feminist critique was its denunciation of the traditional
masculine sex role model. Rooted in the experience and mythology of
the American frontier, it idealized the man who was “ strong, unafraid,
ready to fight, in control of his emotions, and sexually self-centered.” 8
Aggressive and independent, he mastered all manner of challenges.
Except in domestic matters, competence, achievement, and control were
the hallmarks of this paradigm. As technology and urbanization changed
the fabric of American society, a modern variation of the traditional model
evolved. While this new perception of men’s roles altered the old one
somewhat, it managed to preserve many of the latter’s essential charac
teristics. Financial success, social status, and sexual dexterity became
new barometers for measuring a man’s masculinity but emotional de
tachment, self-reliance, and dominance continued as important behav
ioral standards to which men felt compelled to conform.7
Feminists were among the first to protest society’s apotheosis of this
patriarchal figure and by extension an acquiescence to its underlying
ideology. Many concurred that "in varying degrees, the masculine mys
tique devalues femininity (i.e., sexism), overvalues masculinity (i.e., hy
permasculinity), and produces fears about emotions and femininity.” 8
6 James A. Doyle, The Male Experience (Dubuque, Iowa: Wm. C
Brown Co.,1983) 136.
7 Doyle 137-138.
8 James A. O’Neil, “ Assessing Men's Gender Role Conflict,” Problem
Solving Strategies and Interventions for Men in Conflict, eds. Dwight
Moore and Fred Leafgren (Alexandria, Virginia: American Association
for Counseling and Development, 1990) 28.
355
Not only does patriarchy designate certain human characteristics as in
herently male or female. Sexism is also manifested in its fundamental be
lief that men are ontologically superior to women. It follows naturally,
then, that those qualities associated with men should be privileged
above those assigned to women. Besides denigrating the importance of
many fine human attributes, this ideology creates a climate that fosters
painful psychological contradictions for those at odds with patriarchy’s
rigid gender role expectations. It also encourages society to ostracize
those individuals who dare to assume alternative lifestyles.
The feminist attack struck a responsive chord in others who shared
its rejection of patriarchy’s masculine sex role. Appalled by America’s
involvement in Vietnam, peace activists and other counter culturalists
perceived the war as a natural yet tragic consequence of this antiquated
ideology. By sanctioning violence as an acceptable, often praise-wor
thy indication of manhood and patriotism, it created an ideological cli
mate that encouraged the use of military power in Vietnam. It also condi
tioned many men, young and old alike, into believing that “ all real Amer
icans love the sting of battle.” 9 For its part, the gay liberation movement
blamed patriarchy’s intense homophobia for its vilification of anyone,
whatever their sexual orientation, who did not conform to the expecta
9 This line appears in the opening monologue of Franklin Schaff-
ner’s film Patton (1970). The general’s speech to his men illustrates
quite dramatically the way in which patriotism, competition, emotional
toughness, strength, and violence constitute the exemplary American
soldier. It sets down quite clearly the standards by which a man’s mas
culinity is judged. Manhood is demonstrated through courage on the
battlefield, Patton implies, not by “ writing crap for The Saturday Evening
Post “ or spending one’s time “shoveling shit in Louisiana.”
356
tions of its heterosexual paradigm. Patriarchy also legitimized the legal
and illegal defamation, persecution, and violence inflected upon gays.
Influenced by the concerns and interrogations raised by these acti
vist groups, a men’s movement slowly emerged during the Eighties.1 0 It
too found the traditional masculine sex role an extremely negative one,
not only for its demeaning homosexuals and women, but also for the op
pressive influence it exercised over ordinary, heterosexual men. This
manifested itself in two ways. First, most men suffered an ongoing crisis
in self-esteem because they could not fulfill the impossible imperatives
placed upon them by the traditional model. Without realizing it, they were
trapped in a losing game whose only lasting rewards were anxiety and
frustration. Few men managed to transcend this struggle. Most were
persistently caught up in efforts to prove their masculinity to themselves
and to other equally insecure men.1 1 Second, the traditional paradigm
was as dysfunctional as it was unrealistic. It neither fostered the individu
al’s mental health nor benefited society. It encouraged sexism, validated
dominance and ruthless competition, and discouraged men from ex
pressing those feelings and ambitions which did not meet the para
digm’s expectations.1 2 Like patriarchy’s other critics, those in the men’s
movement called upon men to reexamine their lives in the light of this cri-
1 0 Doyle 24.
,1 Clyde W. Franklin, II, The Changing Definition of Masculinity (New
York and London: Plenum Press, 1984) 4.
’2O'Neil 23-24.
357
tique and reconceptualize masculinity in ways which would allow for
greater freedom, diversity, and individuality.
While men had experienced it for generations, their “sex role
strain” only became identified and articulated following the Sixties’ ide
ological interrogations.1 3 It took the radical cultural critiques of post-struc
turalism to provide a theoretical context for its discussion. Until then, men
struggled in silence with the unrealistic expectations of the patriarchal
ideal. In a classic instance of hegemony, they explained themselves to
themselves by adopting an ideology which in fact oppressed them. By
accepting the traditional paradigm as the standard of masculinity, Ameri
can men embarked on a course haunted by the specter of inadequacy.
This constant gap between ideal and actuality created a climate of deval
uation: of the individual toward himself, toward other men, and of other
men toward the individual.1 4 Because questioning this model would im
mediately cast suspicion on the questioner's masculinity, most men kept
their reservations to themselves. The same can be said of their anxieties
which they understood not as symptoms of a serious cultural contradic
tion but rather as painful indications that they were failing to live up to the
very legitimate, natural imperatives of being a man.
For all the psychological and social problems generated by its he
gemony, the traditional male sex role and its modern counterpart pro
vided a model that went virtually unchallenged until the Sixties. There
1 3 Joseph Pleck. The Mvth of Masculinity (Cambridge. Massachu
setts: MIT Press, 1981) 133-134.
1 4 O’Neil 34.
358
were, of course, pockets of artistic and intellectual dissent but for an
overwhelming majority of Americans, there was little argument over
what constituted masculinity. That changed with the emergence of the
counter culture, especially with the profound impact upon American soci
ety of the women’s movement. By exposing how patriarchy victimized
men as well as women, it undercut many of the culture’s most fundamen
tal assumptions and threw open the door for a radical interrogation and
reformulation of gender roles. After years of affirming yet struggling with
its demands, men now heard that the traditional paradigm was targeted
for extinction, just like the oppressive ideology it perpetuated. Rather
than liberating men, however, this perplexed them.
The confusion only intensified with the impact of women’s libera
tion upon the home and workplace. Traditional assumptions about the
distinctive attributes of each sex became highly problematic. The assign
ment of social tasks, formerly done on the basis of gender, developed
new criteria. Domestic chores and child rearing were no longer per
ceived as solely feminine responsibilities. Even at construction sites,
long considered the exclusive bastions of male ruggedness, women
demonstrated that few jobs were gender specific. For many men, this re
alization undercut one of the principle means by which they identified
their manhood. For generations, a man’s sense of his masculinity has
been intertwined with his occupation and status as family provider.1 5
Quite significantly, maleness has also been defined consistently in anti
feminine terms, as a function of that which does not characterize wo
1 5 Doyle168-169.
359
men.1 6 The traditional paradigm’s hierarchy of human attributes privi
leges those it considers male above those it associates with females.
One mark of traditional manhood, then, was its determined effort to shun
behaviors which smack of femininity.1 7 That women could meet the phys
ical and emotional demands of those jobs once relegated exclusively to
men depreciated those jobs and by extension those who held them. This
amplified the threat to men’s self-esteem and further undermined patriar
chal ideology and its gender-based dualism.
Perhaps men were most troubled by the feminists’ interrogation of
traditional male-female relationships. Because men rely considerably
upon their intimate female companions to validate their masculinity, the
revolutionary change in women’s perceptions and expectations threat
ened men in profound ways.1 8 Women demanded that men should en
deavor to change, to cultivate those attributes which a lifetime of patri
archal socialization had sought to repress. Yet this message proved to
be a mixed one. Women claimed they were attracted to men who were
“open, gentle, warm, compassionate, and communicative;” but they also
liked men to be “physical, dominant, and protective.”1 9 Adding to the con
fusion was the assumption that a man should know intuitively whether
strength or sensitivity was the appropriate response in a given situation.
Not surprisingly, contemplating the simplest daily courtesy could leave a
1 6 Doyle 144-161.
1 7 O’Neil 29.
1 4 Franklin 11.
,9 O ’Neil 23.
360
man perplexed and hesitant. For example, to open the door for a woman
could inspire her to chastise him as a “ chauvinist pig" while not opening
it might evoke the social humiliation of being thought an insufferable
boor. Uncertain how to behave, men found they could no longer fall
back on long-standing certainties that once governed their interaction
with women. While remaining anxious for female attention and affirma
tion, many wondered how to regain it now that the old ways were inap
propriate and the new ones seemed hopelessly ambiguous.
They also felt besieged by the rising tide of anti-male sentiment
manifesting itself in the wholesale denunciation of men. Whether or not
they were sexist oppressors, most men did not see themselves that way.
What began as feminists’ philosophical interrogations of patriarchy had
made its way to the newsstands by the late Seventies. Liberated wo
men’s magazines increasingly dealt with interpersonal issues from a
feminist perspective and found men seriously wanting. Often they were
portrayed as sociopathic monsters, a description that few men wel
comed graciously. After a decade of mounting antagonism and confu
sion over changing gender roles, ‘“male blaming and bashing’ reached
an all-time high in the 1980s” when a spate of popular literature, written
mostly by and for women, denounced men for perpetuating a multitude
of cultural, social, and psychological offenses against women.2 0
Yet for all the turbulence it has generated during the last twenty
years, the women’s movement cannot take exclusive responsibility for
the masculine identity crisis. Its impact, however, should not be under-
2 0 O ’Neil 23.
361
estimated. In addition to helping women make tremendous strides, it en
abled both sexes to recognize cultural contradictions which had troubled
society for generations. Of course the women’s movement also com
pounded men’s problems. Previously, men struggled mainly with mea
suring up to a sex role model which, in spite of its negative affects, en
joyed general acceptance. Although they could seldom emulate it, men
did feel a certain stability knowing that society acknowledged the tradi
tional paradigm as its norm for masculinity. The feminist critique, how
ever, undercut that stability and replaced it with the uncertainty endemic
to any period of identity conflict and transition. While denouncing the pa
triarchal model, the feminists also called upon men to adopt a New Age
model of manhood which privileged behavior antithetical to the impera
tives of the traditional one. Even if a man knew fully what that entailed,
the decision to change was not an easy one. To do so ran the risk of be
ing devalued by less liberated men and women who ridiculed the New
Age man as a wimp. For a man wrestling with his masculinity, this ap
pellation, along with its vulgar equivalents, carried extremely unplea
sant connotations. Perplexed, insecure, and defensive, men were pulled
in opposite directions about the meaning of manhood, how they should
behave, and to what they should aspire.
The Sixties counter culture forced society to face openly the con
tradictions of masculinity. Yet the conflict had existed for generations.
Men have long fought private battles within themselves over whether or
not they were real m en. Beginning in childhood, the conflict becomes
particularly acute during adolescence. A nagging sense of inadequacy
362
plagues men, especially young ones, because they cannot measure up
to the traditional paradigm. Most are neither tough, self-sufficient indivi
dualists nor dominant heroes. Few garner other men’s glowing admira
tion and women’s unbridled affections. Greater disillusionment follows in
middle-age. By thirty-five most men sense, often without articulating it,
that the old model no longer works.2 1 The complexities of career, family,
and the aging process dramatically reveal its shortcomings.
Called upon to be powerful, men of all ages feel surprisingly pow
erless to determine the course of their lives. Despite the feminist conten
tion that power resides with males, men see power not as their birthright
but rather as an elusive goal that they are obliged to pursue.2 2 This dis
crepancy lies with a narrow, patriarchal understanding of power which,
ironically, the feminists have adopted. Power entails more than access
to wealth and status commensurate with ability. In a broader sense, it re
fers to “ the ability to control one’s life” and also includes opportunities to
realize inner peace, meaningful relationships, physical health, and sex
ual fulfillment.2 3 Few men believe that they wield this kind of power over
their lives. Bosses oversee their careers, governments impose sweep
ing restrictions, women control their intimate relationships, and the reali
zation of personal dreams is thwarted by their own fears and insecuri-
2 1 Poet Robert Bly makes these points while discussing the crisis of
masculinity with host Bill Moyers in the video program A Gathering of
Men (Public Affairs Television, Inc., 1990).
2 2 Warren Farrell, Whv Men Are the Wav They Are: The Male-Female
Dynamic (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Co., 1986) 359-360.
2 3 Farrell 9-10.
363
ties. As much as they might yearn for it, men rarely believe that self-
determination is either an actuality or a realistic possibility in their lives.
Failing to emulate the traditional paradigm and too paralyzed by
its legacy to meet New Age demands, men find themselves in the throes
of a crisis. The “ old road maps and mythology that defined masculinity”
are breaking apart and the new ones compound men’s feelings of inad
equacy, confusion, and frustration.2 4 Uncertain about the meaning of
manhood, men are searching for role models to redefine it for them. Hav
ing observed men’s reactions to this challenge, Clyde W. Franklin sees
four fundamental patterns emerging.2 5 Steadfastly conservative, the
“ classical man” laments the demise of rigidly defined gender roles.
Threatened by attacks upon patriarchy, he finds consolation and com
pensation through those role models who reaffirm the integrity of the tra
ditional paradigm.
Wishing to avoid the wrath such reactionary notions ignite, most
classical men quickly discover discretion the better part of valor. Franklin
calls this second group “routine masculinists.” Publicly, they pay lip ser
vice to sex-role equality but speak and act otherwise in private. Usually
they are men who find it behooves them to affirm the new sensibility
while in actuality they remain closet chauvinists.2 6 “ Anomic men,” on the
other hand, are genuinely ambivalent about New Age sensitivities as
well as patriarchy. They want “ to do the right thing” but remain uncertain
2 4 Bill Moyers in A Gathering of Men.
2 5 Franklin 208.
2 6 Franklin 208-210.
364
about what that entails. They are willing to change but simply do not
know how to work through the dynamics of gender role transition. Mired
in this confusion, they usually follow the lead of women in hopes of win
ning their approval.2 7 Unfortunately, this often finds them frantically
attempting to conform to women’s fluctuating expectations while endea
voring to convince themselves of their fervent liberation from patriarchal
sentiments.
In contrast to these three, Franklin and others in the men’s move
ment promote the “humanist man,” one who recognizes the equality of
the sexes and chooses to define himself without succumbing to tradi
tional gender role paralysis.2 8 Perhaps this is the model of masculinity
that men are looking for to show them the way out of their crisis, a model
whose expectations are clear but not oppressive, which inspires rather
than intimidates, and which encourages them to become “all that they
can be” while simultaneously cultivating “ the better angels of our na
ture.”2 9 As yet, however, such a resolution to this cultural contradiction
remains far more of a hope than a reality. The confusion over sex-role
2 7 Franklin 211.
2 8 Franklin 212.
2 9 “Be All That You Can Be” is the popular recruiting slogan of the
United States Army. While it is designed to sell the notion that the army
enables young men and women to maximize their potentialities in many
areas, its visual images privilege men’s developing those traditional val
ues of courage, strength, dominance, and professional expertise. “ The
better angels of our nature” is Abraham Lincoln’s metaphor for human
beings’ inherent capacity for gentleness, compassion, and love. Taken
together, the two phrases signify the integration of strength and sensiti
vity as an essential dimension in any new masculine sex role model.
365
expectations continues as a persistent problem for men and one with
which society wilt struggle for some time.3 0
III. Ideological Work and Popularity
In contrast to most men, Clint Eastwood’s heroes are rarely troub
led by identity crises and gender role conflicts. Director Brian Hutton was
among the first to draw this important distinction.3 1 He noticed that East
wood differed significantly from those popular stars of the Fifties and Six
ties whose portrayals of tormented masculinity highlighted the post-war
American cinema. Unlike Marlon Brando, Montgomery Clift, James Dean
and other Methodical brooders, Eastwood was a throwback to the strong,
silent stars of the Thirties. His persona lacked the anxiety, introspection,
and indecision made fashionable by these actors. Eastwood’s cool, self-
assured manner conveyed quite the opposite. “Clint’s character has al
ways been a guy who knows who he is, knows what he wants and goes
out and does it,” according to Hutton. “Regardless if he’s good or bad, at
least he’s certain.”3 2
Transcending the paralyses of ambivalence and apprehension,
Eastwood’s hero seldom doubts himself or lacks the courage to act upon
his moral principles. He sets his own course and steadfastly follows it.
Ironically, a society which continues to champion individualism also won
ders whether it is becoming untenable given the complexities and pres
3 0 Doyle 283.
3 1 Ann Guerin, “Clint Eastwood as Mr. Warmth.” Show February 1970:
84.
“ Guerin 84.
366
sures of contemporary life.3 3 In the midst of such longings and frustra
tions, Clint Eastwood provides audiences with an image of strong, deci
sive, successful manhood. Audiences find his image one with which they
can identify, one which compensates them for threatened values, and
one which reaffirms their hope in the individual’s power to become, as
David Copperfield envisioned, “the hero of [his] life.”
Self-determination and self-confidence are among the chief quali
ties which distinguish the extraordinary person from the ordinary one.
Whether such individuals are laconic or ostentatious, they attract the less
assured, especially during times of heightened social and psychological
insecurity. Their strength and self-direction are inspirational, magnetic,
and very reassuring. When these persons are public figures, this wide
spread perception may eventually elevate them to a lofty, idealized posi
tion, one enjoyed by only a handful of famous men and women. As one
of them, Clint Eastwood belongs to a select group of charismatic stars
whom the public has made popular heroes.3 4 By the mid-Eighties, East
wood’s cultural importance had surpassed mere film stardom. A Roper
poll revealed that he was regarded, especially among young people, as
one of the nation’s most admired men.3 5 Critics also spoke of Eastwood
3 3 Robert Mazzoco,“ The Supply -Side Star.” New York Review of
Books 1 April 1982: 34.
3 4 Bob Greene, “Guvs.” Plavbov October 1985: 102-107.
3 5 Tim Cahill, “Clint Eastwood: The Rolling Stone Interview.” Rolling
Stone 4 July 1985: 20.
367
as an authentic American icon.3 6 This exalted status was based not
solely upon his matching the physical requirements of the prototypical
American champion. Of greater interest was his ideological importance
and the work he performed as a unit of meaning. In the throes of intense
cultural interrogation and confrontation, Eastwood upheld many tradi
tional social values and perpetuated the legitimacy of patriarchy’s mas
culine paradigm.
Eastwood's significance, however, was not perceived initially in
such reactionary terms. Although The Man with No Name rocketed him
to stardom, this scruffy, bemused gunfighter bore little resemblance to the
classical western hero. In spite of its parody and black humor, Sergio Le
one’s trilogy was considered excessively brutal for its time. More impor
tant, it dispensed with the western’s moral underpinnings. The hero’s
violence, once justified in his predecessors by their good character and
the social good it accomplished, had now become self-serving and bor
dered on nihilism.3 7 Society, its significance nullified in the new moral
equation, functioned merely as a bystander to the battle between The
Man and his adversaries.
Leone’s trilogy exemplifies what Will Wright describes as “ the pro
fessional western,” a subgenre that evolved principally during the Six-
3 6 John Vinocur, “Clint Eastwood, Seriously.” New York Times Maga
zine 24 February 1985:16; David Ansen et al., “ Clint: An American
Icon.” Newsweek 22 July 1985: 48-53; Carrie Rickey, “In Like Clint,”
Fame November 1988: 125.
3 7 See Pauline Kael’s comments in lain Johnstone, The Man with No
Name: The Biography of Clint Eastwood (New York: Morrow Quill Pa
perbacks, 1981) 50-51.
368
ties.3 8 Where conflicts once hinged on protecting a weak yet deserving
society, they now became private matters between highly skilled and so
cially indifferent gunmen. Wright believes this shift reflects a fundamental
change in American culture: the strong individual no longer feels obliged
to serve the public good. The classical heroes with their sense of social
responsibility have been replaced by a new generation of the best and
the brightest, elitists who reject public service in favor of community and
competition among and between themselves.3 9
Wright may well be right about the developing shift in social orien
tation and the western’s capacity to mirror such changes in American cul
ture. Yet another significant factor in explaining the popularity of The
Man with No Name (and Clint Eastwood) is the correlation between his
iconoclasm and the defiant, rebellious spirit of the Sixties. Eastwood’s
decision to play The Man as a shameless anti-hero reflected a growing
disillusionment with the dominant ideology of the Fifties. By the mid-Six-
ties, its values were beginning to appear hopelessly sanctimonious and
naive to many. The Man’s dismissal of traditional society’s relevance
struck a responsive chord with young audiences particularly. He ex
pressed their cynicism with those middle-class platitudes which had now
become glaringly hypocritical given the realities of assassination, cultural
interrogations, and Vietnam. Eastwood’s characterization of The Man
grew out of the same resentment against banal, repressive wholesome-
3 a Will Wright. Six Guns and Society: A Structural Study of the West
ern (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press,
1975) 85-88.
3 9 Wright 174-184.
ness which helped spawn the more sensationalized forms of Sixties pro
test. In fact, The Man with No Name was Eastwood’s personal rebellion
against the suffocating proprieties which he was forced to endure while
portraying Rawhide’s “nice guy,” “ clean-cut” Rowdy Yates.4 0 Without fan
fare, his shady protagonist defied the western’s conventions by simply
dismissing their relevance. Calculating and pragmatic, he marched to
his own drummer with scant regard for society or its expectations. De
spite the violence and cynicism, Eastwood’s anti-hero blew a breathe of
fresh air into the stale rigidities of this most American of film genres.
While the Man with No Name broke with many established norms,
he also perpetuated many deeply entrenched ones which relate directly
to the contemporary crisis in masculinity. Confident, dominant, and self-
sufficient, the Man compensated spectators for the lack of such character
istics in their own lives. This dynamic relationship between Clint East
wood and his audience began with The Man with No Name and has fol
lowed him throughout his career. It is the key to understanding his popu
larity and the power behind his significance as a star, a national hero,
and a cultural icon. From the beginning, the most astute observer of this
relationship has been the star himself. Although his interviews show that
he neither takes himself too seriously nor broaches his importance in
pretentious categories, Eastwood’s comments nonetheless demonstrate
a keen self-consciousness about his stardom. Despite his initial dismis
sal by critics, he quickly grasped the reasons for his success and the ide
4 0 Guerin 84; Arthur Knight, "Plavbov Interview: Clint Eastwood,” Play
boy February 1974: 66.
370
ological contradictions which energized it. A sampling of his comments
from the last two decades reveals Eastwood’s perceptiveness:
[The Man with No Name’s] a super hero, a dream
character for most men. They find true escapism in the
character. They sit there and think nobody is really like
this--has all the answers and gets everything done like
this. But everybody would like to have a little bit of that
quality--he’s sort of the last individual--the world is
slowly getting away from individualism or that sort, but
it’s still a kind of revered thing among people who just
want to be entertained.4 1
My appeal is in the characters I play. A super
human-type character who has all the answers, is dou
ble cool, exists on his own without society or the help of
society’s police forces...He (the spectator) wants to have
that self-sufficient thing he sees up there on the screen.
But it will never happen that way. Man is always dream
ing of being an individual but man is really a flock
animal.4 2
I guess I’m pretty self-sufficient, and I think that’s
appealing from the audience’s point of view, because
there are so many things to feel un-self-suffi-cient about
in life. Everybody likes to look at a moving picture and
say, That the way I’d like to be when I grow up,’ That’s
the way I would have handled it if I had lived in 1840’ or
‘If I could just be that self-sufficient, I could dump the
shrink and put all the payments in the bank.’ I think
there’s a dream in every man’s mind of being an individ
ual, but it’s harder every year to be one.4 3
I think I appeal to the escapism in people.... In the
complications of society as we know it today, sometimes
a person who can cut through the bureau-cracy and the
red tape-a person who thinks on that level is a hero....
4 1 Guerin 84.
4 2 Johnstone 134.
4 3 Knight 60.
371
A man who thinks on a very simple level and has very
simple moral values appeals to a great many people. . ..
They like to see a guy who can hack his way through ail
that. A very self-sufficient per-son is almost becoming a
mythical character in our day and age.4 4
A young man sits alone in a theater. He’s young
and he’s scared. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do
with his life. He wishes he could be self-sufficient, like
the man he sees up there on the screen, somebody who
can look out for himself, solve his own problems. I do
the kinds of roles I’d like to see if I were digging pools
and wanted to escape my problems.4 5
There is a fantasy figure . . . who can do certain
things by himself. They’ll always be that fantasy. I think
there’s an admiration for it. Maybe certain groups will try
to suppress or advocate against it. But that fantasy will
always exist. . . . Sure it’s a fantasy, and I think people
need it. At the same time, he’s advocating that there is
hope for the individual.” 4 6
As far as the tormented masculinity goes, maybe
I’m interested in it because it’s an obsolete thing-mas-
culinity, I mean. There’s very few things men are re
quired for, except maybe siring.4 7
Individualism, dominance, and self-sufficiency recur repeatedly in
Eastwood’s comments. Significantly, they are three of the traditional
masculine paradigm’s most prominent characteristics and also among its
most difficult for men to achieve. This accounts in part for the success of
"Patrick McGilligan, “Clint Eastwood: An Interview.” Focus on Film
Autumn 1976: 15-16.
"Richard Schickel, “Good Ole Burt: Cool-Eyed Clint,” Time9 January
1978: 49.
"Thomson 71.
4 7 Rickey 128.
372
westerns and other action/adventure genres. Piqued by the nagging
conviction that they lack power over their own lives, audiences, particu
larly adolescent and working class males, discover temporary relief from
such emotional stress by identifying with the screen’s super heroes.
Through them, they can experience vicariously the power, dominance,
and success which, on the one hand they desperately desire, but on the
other they find frustratingly beyond their grasp.4 8 In this way, Clint East
wood’s roles resolve symbolically the cultural contradiction between so
ciety’s traditional sex role expectations of men and a complex social for
mation which increasingly thwarts their realization.
Yet from this analysis, Eastwood does not differ noticeably from
other action stars. All play off similar longings and insecurities which
men have felt for generations but whose articulation only began to sur
face during the cultural interrogations of the Sixties. Like many of the cin
ema’s super heroes, The Man with No Name provided viewers with a
temporary resolution to this very real contradiction. By identifying with
the masterful gunfighter, a spectator could experience a momentary re
lease from the anxiety and anger which he felt for failing to live up to the
patriarchal ideal. Where Eastwood differed, however, was in The Man’s
anti-heroism. This iconoclastic drifter caught the wave of the Sixties’
penchant for debunking traditional authority and conventionality. His de
meanor echoed the rising disillusionment, on the part of young people
especially, with established customs and proprieties. Furthermore, The
Man established a model which subsequent Eastwood characters would
4 8 Cawelti 15.
373
embellish. Usually laconic loners, they would become popular and con
troversial because they tapped deep wellsprings of public and private
discontent. The Man with No Name also began another familiar East
wood pattern: his remarkable, career-long balancing act between antag
onistic constituencies. How antagonistic they were was not so apparent,
however, until Eastwood returned to Hollywood after the success of the
Leone trilogy.
Arriving during the late Sixties, Eastwood discovered that an ac
tor’s persona, as nearly everything else, had assumed ideological sig
nificance while he was away. The conservative flavor of Hana 'em Hiah
and Coooan’s Bluff immediately undercut any hope that Eastwood might
escape the trend. In no way would he be allowed to dodge controversy
by claiming to be merely an apolitical actor. Now that cinema enjoyed
the lofty status of an ideological apparatus, “Clint Eastwood” soon be
came identified with the “ Avenging Conscience of the Right.” 4 9 Critics
likened and linked him to that most patriarchal of actors, John Wayne.
This was unfortunate because Eastwood was neither a provocative right
winger nor an enthusiastic apologist for the Vietnam War. Yet when
Wayne unequivocally dubbed Eastwood as his heir apparent, he passed
on far more to the younger man than the western’s mantle of stardom. It
also encouraged liberals to categorize Eastwood as an updated version
of Wayne’s low-brow reactionary.5 0 While the association with “ The
4 9 Johnstone 97. The author quotes Michael McKegney who fre
quently described Eastwood this way in The Village Voice.
5 0 Frangois Guerif, Clint Eastwood, trans. Lisa Nesselson (New York:
St. Martin’s Press, 1984) 8-9, 14.
Duke” undoubtedly enhanced Eastwood’s stature in some quarters, it
prompted many influential critics to regard him as little more than a new
champion of fascists, sexists, and racists. Regrettably, this early miscon
ception about Eastwood has followed him throughout his career and has
only become significantly revised during the last few years.
To distinguish between Eastwood and Wayne, however, should
not mask the similar ideological functions they perform. Neither should it
minimize the politically conservative, often reactionary dynamics at work
in Eastwood’s appeal. His popularity becomes even more problematic
since “his Dirty Harry cop pictures seemed to tap straight into the part of
the American psyche where the nation’s brutal, simplistic and autocratic
reflexes are stored.”5 1 Just as The Man with No Name vented certain in
tense, socially shared frustrations and angers, Harry Callahan brought
out those of a different constituency. Through a string of characters of
whom Harry is only the most famous, Eastwood, as Wayne had done be
fore him, expressed “ the average man’s growing uneasiness over the
eclipse of old paths, old truths . . . what some now call the ‘politics of re
sentment.’” 5 2
Although the protesters and counter culturalists of the Sixties
touched many of the nation’s concerns, their bashing of America’s his
tory, institutions, and traditional values did little to win the sympathies of
the country's heartland. Sexual freedom, experimentation with drugs,
and the flaunting of alternative lifestyles also shocked many Americans.
5 1 Vinocur 16.
5 2 Mazzoco 34.
375
Televised accounts of rowdy demonstrations and marches further aliena
ted them. What may have been motivated and justified by genuine poli
tical concerns was interpreted as merely a smokescreen to excuse law
lessness and license. This immense conservative backlash found poli
tical spokesmen in George Wallace and Richard Nixon whose “law and
order” catchphrases exploited its anger. When Eastwood returned in
1968, Middle America had lost patience with liberalism’s indulgent social
programs and overall permissiveness. It especially despised the liberals’
penchant for “rationalizing crime and the intolerable with guidance-coun-
selor jargon.”5 3 Government, particularly the justice system and the fed
eral bureaucracy, was blamed for this and a multitude of other sins. The
courts, by coddling criminals, did too little, while the meddling bureau
crats did too much.
“ The meteoric rise of Clint Eastwood was a reaction against the
radicalism of the 60’s.” 5 4 Reflecting the anger of the Silent Majority, East
wood’s heroes prevailed over its most distrusted and disliked social
types. Targeted were gangsters, street thugs, and a judicial system
which exalted the accused’s rights at the expense of the victim’s. His
characters also confronted government bureaucrats by ridiculing their ig
norance, incompetence, and lack of moral courage. In the face of
charges that their ideology and methods were woefully anachronistic, his
heroes’ successes refuted their detractors’ claims. As hopelessly obso
lete as they appeared to liberal sensibilities, these old-fashioned virtues
S 3 Vinocur 24.
“ Grenier, p. 63.
376
withstood contemporary challenges by proving their superiority on the
testing ground of practical experience. In this way, Eastwood’s reaffirma
tion of the viability of certain traditional American values reassured view
ers threatened by the wave of social change and glaring cultural contra
dictions. This resolution was classically conservative for it preserved the
integrity of the social formation and its values by blaming its problems on
those who were too corrupt, too immoral, and/or too indolent to play de
cently by its rules.
In a similar way, Will Rogers’ popularity during the Thirties can be
attributed to the way in which he reinforced Americans’ beliefs against
the ideological threats posed to them by the Great Depression.5 5 His,
however, was a folksy, sentimental reaffirmation. Unlike Eastwood’s
characters, his did not tap the nation’s bitter resentment against those
who attacked the dominant ideology. In explaining Eastwood’s popular
ity, particularly during the late Sixties and early Seventies, the compen
satory function he performed becomes inseparable from the retaliatory
one. Validation of traditional values goes hand in hand with the swift re
tribution against those who would violate them. Eastwood’s characters
offered audiences the satisfaction of vicariously punishing those for
whom they harbored considerable animosity and fear. Watching East
wood vanquish despicable villains answered a longing for basic justice
which many believed the judiciary had made impossible. Eastwood of
fered them an opportunity to vent their tremendous hostility for those
they held responsible for crime, social upheaval, and moral decay. The
5 5 Dyer 28-29.
377
rogues gallery included criminals, bureaucrats, liberal appeasers, coun
ter culturalists, militant political activists, and just about any other obnox
ious troublemaker or pretentious fool. Like Rogers’s appeal, Eastwood’s
was nostalgic for “old paths” and “ old truths,” but unlike the former’s,
Eastwood’s popularity owed much to his characters’ violent enactment of
the “ politics of resentment.”
The liberal critics and commentators underestimated, however,
the breadth and power of the cultural backlash which Eastwood’s popu
larity represented. Certainly the actor’s version of romantic heroism gen
erated considerable scorn during the early Seventies but a decade later
its new respectability reflected America’s shift toward political conserva
tism and the spectacular rise of Ronald Reagan. By the late Seventies,
Eastwood was hardly the controversial figure he once was. With the
Vietnam War over and economic affluence no longer a given, the ideal
ism and anger which energized the Sixties eventually diffused or ex
pressed itself in social movements which pursued their goals within the
mainstream of the political process. Eastwood had changed very little
during the Seventies but a nation had. By 1980, it had finally caught up
with him.5 6
If it rested solely upon his role as the “ Avenging Conscience of the
Right,” Eastwood’s popularity might well have waned as the political an
tagonism of the era subsided. This did not happen, however, because
Eastwood’s relevance has always revolved around a major cultural con
tradiction whose significance transcends political categories although it
“ Vinocur 16.
378
often finds expression though them. Eastwood’s popularity emanates
from the interaction of his star image with the tensions, anxieties, and
confusion generated by a fundamental challenge to society’s traditional
masculine sex role model. Existing long before Eastwood’s appearance,
its cultural contradictions only became identified and articulated as a re
sult of the counter culture’s interrogations, particularly those of the fem
inist movement. It is no coincidence that Eastwood’s twenty year tenure
as a superstar has corresponded to the evolution of the masculinity cri
sis and its impact at virtually every level of society. During that time, East
wood, through his image and films, has addressed many concerns raised
by the crisis. Most important, audiences have realized through him a
resolution to its troubling contradictions while critics have discovered in
Eastwood a refreshing interrogation of that same resolution’s feasibility
and desirability.
In the public imagination, Clint Eastwood’s star image personifies
patriarchy’s traditional masculine sex role model. Physically and emo
tionally strong, dominant, self-sufficient, and tight-lipped, he is in control
of a life he lives on his terms. Confident and self-determined, he is above
all else an individual, a man who looks to himself when facing life’s chal
lenges, adheres to a personal moral code, and pursues those dreams
which he alone has formulated. His fans and detractors alike agree that
among public figures Eastwood is perhaps the only one still capable of
perpetuating the myth of resilient, triumphant individualism. Because of
his long association with westerns and his physical resemblance to the
379
prototypical American hero, it is little wonder that Eastwood is often de
scribed as a national icon.
Eastwood has often come under fire for the violence in his films.
Too often, it is said, his heroes resort to gunplay without fully exploring
other means of conflict resolution. Violence, however, is only a part of the
much larger problem epitomized by Eastwood’s persona, the perpetua
tion of patriarchal ideology and its masculine paradigm. While his films
reject the most blatantly objectionable characteristics of patriarchy such
as racism and sexism, they also appear to mask the potential weak
nesses in those they celebrate. Individualism, self-sufficiency, physical
strength, and emotional control are seemingly presented as hallmarks of
masculinity without acknowledging the serious drawbacks inherent in
each. Ironically and most significantly, Eastwood’s affirmation of these
traditional values occurred when they were coming under siege on a
variety of fronts. Environmentalists assailed their competitive, separatist
orientation for fostering a myriad of ecological abuses. Leftists saw in
them a fascist mentality responsible for “ the racist, oppressive society.”
Feminists viewed them as part and parcel of patriarchy’s legitimizing the
domination of the powerless (women, minorities, gays) by the powerful
(white, heterosexual men). And many within the burgeoning men’s
movement pointed to the dangers in advocating emotional repression,
the social isolation it created, and the debilitating and unrealistic expec
tations placed upon men by the patriarchal paradigm.
Despite its shortcomings, however, the traditional male role model
is firmly ingrained within American culture. For generations it has func
380
tioned as a powerful identity element, a standard to which men have as
pired and by which they have judged themselves and others. The fact
that its imperatives are impossible and that they create a gnawing sense
of inadequacy does not really undercut their validity for most men. Suffi
cient reinforcement for the model exists through athletics, entertainment,
and social customs. As the interrogations of the Sixties revealed, the
paradigm has long been problematic for men existentially. Yet like other
instances of hegemony, it is so deeply embedded in men’s self-under-
standing that attempts to undercut it face considerable resistance, resent
ment, and the quest for reassurance.
For those haunted by society’s growing complexity and interde
pendence, Eastwood’s persona upholds the viability and the desirability
of the traditional paradigm. Threatened by the attacks upon it, both men
and women discover through Eastwood an encouraging reaffirmation of
the model’s appropriateness. Eastwood’s characters uphold the feasibi
lity of “ the old ways,” particularly their emphasis upon the value of indi
vidualism. Despite the stress critics have placed upon violence and
emotional hardness in describing the Eastwood persona, its most impor
tant dimension is its glorification of the freedom and self-determination of
the individual. From this flows nearly everything else. Eastwood’s films
celebrate those persons who courageously remain true to themselves,
steadfastly pursue their dreams, and live to the fullest on their own terms.
Conversely, their enemies, be they criminals or bureaucrats, abuse that
freedom, deny it to others, or shirk the social responsibilities which free
dom inevitably entails. Undoubtedly the violence and confident domi
381
nance of Eastwood’s heroes attract viewers but these are expressions of
this more profound dynamic. Eastwood’s perpetuation of the belief in the
individual’s power for self-determination in the face of hostile social
forces is at the core of his popularity.
In form and function, Eastwood’s relationship with his audience is
similar to the one “Denver Tank” Murdock enjoys with his subculture in
Every Which Wav But Loose. Each man’s immense popularity and myth
ological status stems from his authenticating the reality and validity of an
idealized life style. What further links Eastwood with Murdock is his ap
peal to the same working class constituency. Each plays to its fascina
tion, glorification, and longing for freedom, self-sufficiency, and power.
Although Eastwood speaks to Murdock’s people, his popularity tran
scends the limitations of class, race, and gender. His persona strikes a
responsive chord with people from all walks of life who struggle with
these pervasive cultural contradictions. Through his characters, his sta
tus as a respected filmmaker, and his successful life off screen, “Clint
Eastwood” functions ideologically to reaffirm the individual’s capacity for
self-determination and the genuine possibility that she/he can become
the hero of her/his own life.
IV. Assessment
As inspirational as this may sound, however, Eastwood and the
work performed by his image is vulnerable to a number of significant crit
icisms. From the beginning, the violence in his films has engulfed him in
a sea of controversy. Complimenting as it does his laconic demeanor,
callous humor, and emotional hardness, Eastwood’s persona has gar
nered little praise from those who espouse an altogether different ideol
ogical agenda. That vengeance figures so predominantly in motivating
his characters also raises legitimate concerns. While self-determination
and individual freedom lies at the heart of Eastwood’s appeal, no
amount of demythologizing or trivializing can diminish the fact that it is
the tough guy dimensions of his image to which audiences respond
most enthusiastically. Despite the “enlightened” qualities of his “smaller,
personal films”, it is the cops, gunfighters, and good ole boys who have
endeared Eastwood to his vast public. Certainly these characters offer a
variety of outlets for handling the frustrations and powerlessness gener
ated by complex social problems. Not the lest of these is the satisfaction
derived from retaliation, from watching Eastwood’s heroes punish those
who typically go unpunished. What mitigates in his favor is that audi
ences despise the targets of his expedient cruelty far more than they
worry about its moral and legal implications. As highly particularized,
theatri-al depictions and resolutions of familiar social problems, these
films function more as “safety valves” than they do as “hair triggers.” 5 7
Rather than promoting violence, Eastwood’s films are more prob
lematic for the manner in which they skirt the inherent dangers of vigi-
lantism and rugged individualism. Maanum Force. Joe Kidd, and Pale
Rider not withstanding, the objects of criticism are not Eastwood’s heroes
but instead their antagonists. Lieutenant Briggs, Frank Harlan, and Coy
LaHood, respectively, misuse their power for selfish, illegal purposes.
Harry Callahan and his counterparts, equally prone to operating as a law
5 7 Mailer 6.
383
unto themselves, do so for the benefit of society. The ubiquitous problem
of “ends justifying means” is masked behind a smokescreen of omnis
cience and the assumption of finality which defy the realities of everyday
life. Police, often for the noblest of reasons, err out of ignorance. Inno
cent people are victimized, bystanders injured, and rarely are moral ca
tegories neatly drawn. Violence, whoever instigates it, rarely resolves
problems and usually generates more serious ones. Eastwood’s char
acters escape such interrogation because their omniscience precludes
fatal mistakes; and, like the classical western heroes, their actions, no
matter how deadly, are undertaken for the public good. Eastwood under
stands Harry and many of the others as fantasy figures, as supermen,
and so they are. What makes them fantastic, however, is more than just
their physical prowess and indomitable courage. Equally unbelievable is
the notion that anyone’s judgment could be so infallible and his heart so
pure that the abuse of power would never occur. History is filled with tra
gedies wrought by the failures of charismatic authority and Eastwood’s
films, in their celebration of individualism and Old Testament justice, lose
sight of Lord Acton’s admonition that “power tends to corrupt” regardless
of who wields it or to which moral crusade it is applied.
While “ dynamic imagery in the service of a dubious ideology” 5 8
embroils Eastwood’s image in political controversy, its sensationalized
features should not overshadow a third important problem associated
with his stardom. Within the context of the cultural crisis over masculinity,
Eastwood’s popularity emanates to a great extent from his persona’s re
affirming the viability and desirability of the traditional male sex role
“ Andrew Sarris quoted in Johnstone 93.
384
model. It represents a conservative reaction to the confusion, frustration,
and insecurity generated by unwelcomed challenges to gender expecta
tions and to the paradigm’s legitimacy. Identifying Eastwood as a pre
eminent patriarchal figure, feminists have denounced his tough guy
image on many counts while those in the men’s movement castigate him
for personifying an antiquated, debilitating role model whose imperatives
have undermined men’s happiness for generations.5 9 The potential dan
ger posed by Eastwood’s films lies in the way they reconcile the contra
diction between the traditional paradigm’s demands and men’s inability
to meet them. Haunted by the stress of inadequacy, spectators can over
come it vicariously through identifying with Eastwood’s superhero.
Through him, they enjoy the exhilaration of power, dominance, and self-
sufficiency, of becoming everything expected of a real man. Additionally,
it resolves their doubts and confusion over the meaning of masculinity
since the hero’s success reinforces the legitimacy and viability of the par
adigm.
As satisfying and comforting as this experience may be, it only
temporarily relieves the weight of the masculinity crisis. Upon leaving
the theater, the spectator soon discovers that euphoria and reassurance
5 9 For one feminist’s no nonsense denunciation of Eastwood, see
Joan Mellen, Big Bad Wolves: Masculinity in the American Film (New
York: Pantheon Books, 1977). Although written over a decade ago, its
critique of Eastwood as a patriarchal bogeyman is exemplary of femi
nists’ antipathy for what he represents. Poet Robert Bly, a popular
spokesman for the emerging men’s movement, also demonstrates scant
praise for Eastwood’s persona. When discussing the necessity of a new
masculine sex role model, he summarily characterized the traditional one
as “some fool like Clint Eastwood,” in Bob Sipchen, “The Inner Warrior,”
Los Angeles Times 19 March 1991: E4.
385
diminish as the realities of everyday life return. Furthermore, while these
films do neutralize stress momentarily, ultimately they can intensify it.
Fulfilling one’s wishes vicariously through a screen hero may reaffirm
certain notions about masculinity but it also intensifies the insecurities
emanating from the contradiction between the patriarchal ideal and the
spectator’s self-image, between Eastwood and Everyman. This raises
the potential for an unfortunate pattern of repetition compulsion to de
velop. Its scenario finds spectators returning repeatedly to these films
to reduce the stress that on one hand is generated by the masculinity
crisis, and on the other, is perpetuated, paradoxically, by these same
films. Rather than seeking real-life solutions to their problems, these per
sons seek the gratification and reassurance, however tenuous, derived
from their imaginative interaction with the screen’s superheroes.6 0 Such
behavior neither resolves the cultural contradictions in any satisfactory
way nor eliminates the tensions associated with them. It only intensifies
both. As a significant ideological force, Eastwood's tough guy persona
provides an extremely popular resolution to the contradictions of mascu
linity but as the critics of patriarchy have argued persuasively, it is a reso
lution fraught with both psychological and social problems. It represents
a reactionary dynamic that does little to advance either social harmony or
the health and happiness of men.
6 0 For a helpful parallel, see Tania Modleski’s Loving with a Ven
geance for an explication of the role played by Harlequin novels in
symbolically resolving certain contradictions in their reader’s lives.
386
When Robert Bly dismissed Clint Eastwood as a “ fool,” the poet
not only vented his unhappiness with the patriarchal paradigm.6 1 He
also revealed the extent to which both mass audiences and intellectuals
commonly identify Eastwood with his screen roles as the traditional he
roic tough guy. If the actor was as one-dimensional as his critics and fans
presume, then there would be little left to say about his ideological signi
ficance. A careful reading of his films, however, indicates that such a
view is far too simplistic. It overlooks entirely the wealth of meaning in
his smaller, personal films as well as the persistent self-interrogation of
his image which appears throughout his oeuvre. To privilege only his pa
triarchal dimensions overlooks the constructive ideological work he per
forms and negates the possibility of discovering in Eastwood a healthy
contribution to the resolution of the masculinity crisis.
The triumph of individualism and freedom lies at the heart of East
wood’s popularity. Audiences respond to his characters’ self-sufficiency,
the control they wield over their lives, and their refusal to compromise ei
ther dreams or ideals. Such assertiveness often finds expression
through violence and emotional detachment, two ambivalent characteris
tics which have become decisive determinants in constituting East
wood’s image. Actually their expression is indicative of his characters’
power to overcome the political, social, and psychological obstacles
which regularly frustrate people as they endeavor to fulfill their lives.
Despite their proclivity for violence and emotional reserve, Eastwood’s
heroes are not sociopaths. As up-dated versions of classical western
heroes, they act out of definitive moral codes, albeit very personal ones,
“ Sipchen E4.
387
which seldom place personal profit or self-aggrandizement ahead of so
cial good. Usually social and personal goals are inextricably linked.
Once the superheroic dimensions of Eastwood’s characters, including
violence, are placed within the context of theatricality, fantasy, and hyper
bole, they can be understood for what they truly are: affirmations of the
socially responsible individual’s capacity for freedom, self-determination,
and personal fulfillment.
That audiences and critics seldom privilege this reading of his
work is indicative of their failure to consider Eastwood’s entire oeuvre
and to acknowledge his critical self-reflexiveness. Running through
nearly each of his films is a subtext which interrogates a particular as
pect of his patriarchal image. As strong an advocate of individualism as
he is, Eastwood reveals through his films that he is no Pollyanna intent
upon masking its drawbacks or its potential dangers. Despite their cele
bration of artistic integrity. Honkvtonk Man and Bird demonstrate that in
dividualism without responsibility for oneself or society evokes chaos and
ultimately tragedy. Legal, economic, and environmental abuses are logi
cal consequences of rugged individualism in Joe Kidd and Pale Rider.
Other texts question the limits of self-sufficiency and ask how re
warding it is for the individual to remain separated from others. Repeat
edly in Eastwood’s films, the loner discovers that well-being occurs not in
isolation but only within the context of a deep, loving relationship and/or
within an intentional, caring community. The Gauntlet’s Ben Shockley,
Tightrope’s Wes Block, and Josey Wales only begin to heal after they
risk entering meaningful intimate relationships. In Every Which But
388
Loose. Anv Which Wav You, and Bronco Billv. the importance of commu
nity as well as individualism are presented simply as givens. That Plav
Mistv for Me. Breezv. Sudden Impact. Tightrope. Heartbreak Ridae, and
The Dead Pool end with a shot of the hero and heroine walking away to
gether is a further indication of the significance Eastwood places upon
relationships. In contrast to a screen image which many read as glorify
ing the remote individual, devaluing women, and repressing emotional
sensitivity, the vast number of Eastwood’s films espouse the desirability
and the importance of meaningful interpersonal relationships.
Because these interrogations reveal an Eastwood who differs de
cidedly from his patriarchal image, Robert Bly and others in the men’s
movement would do well to reevaluate his significance for the masculin
ity crisis. While the public’s identification of Eastwood with the traditional
paradigm has countered attacks upon it, this revisionist view casts him as
an influential public figure who potentially could make a positive contri
bution to the process of gender role transition. Not unexpectedly, it is his
emphasis upon socially responsible individualism which is most relevant.
Eastwood’s heroes are true to themselves. They know who they are,
what they stand for, and what they want out of life. They are men in touch
with their intuition and their dreams, as well as their limitations. Self-
awareness and self-determination require sensitivity and strength, the
twin powers necessary in a new masculine role model. Together they
can enable men to free themselves from both the patriarchal paradigm’s
debilitating imperatives against feelings and the New Age rumblings
against aggressiveness. Through two of his favorite characters, Bronco
389
Billy McCoy and Red Stovall, Eastwood expresses his fundamental be
lief that the individual must determine himself (“ to be who I want to be”
and “ to follow my dream”). For Bly and his cohorts, this must come as a
surprisingly liberated message from a most unlikely source. Yet once an
understanding of Eastwood’s films progresses beyond the simplistic in
terpretation usually afforded them, his image begins to assume new
meanings and significance. It can then potentially work to aid the de
velopment and dissemination of a new understanding of masculinity, one
which allows men “to be all that they can be” while simultaneously culti
vating “ the better angels of our nature.”
390
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— . “Reactivating Action Heroes.” Rev, of The Dead Pool.” Newsweek 25
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— . “ Wrong-way Clint.” Rev, of Every Which Wav But Loose. Newsweek
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396
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398
—. Rev, of Pafe Rider. New York 29 July 1985: 61.
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— . “Mayor’s Report: Say Grace.” Carmel Pine Cone 3 March 1988: 2.
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399
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— . “Clint Eastwood Reflects on his First 100 Days.” Carmel Pine Cone
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— . “ Clint Jumps into Fray to ‘Bring Community Together.’” Carmel Pine
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---. “ Clint Wins: It’s Eastwood, Laiolo and Fischer in Landslide.” Carmel
Valley Pine Cone 10 April 1986: 1,3.
— . “ The Council Candidates?” Carmel Pine Cone 2 January 1986: 1, 4.
—. “Eastwood, City Put Guns Away, Settle Dispute Over Building.” Car
mel Pine Cone 21 November 1985: 1,4.
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400
— . “May 6 Council Agenda Packed Full of Promise(s).” Carmel Pine
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—. “Mayor Gets Generally Good, But Mixed Reviews.” Carmel Pine
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—. “Now It's Time to Get Down to Some Business.” Carmel Pine Cone
17 April 1986: 1,3,25.
— . “ Odello Issue Not Over Although Suit Dropped.” Carmel Pine Cone
8 May 1986: 3, 43.
—. “ Wright Blasts Eastwood's Purge of Planners.” Carmel Pine Cone
5 June 1986: 3.
Gelmis, Joseph. Rev. of Citv Heat. Newsdav 7 December 1984, pt. 3: 3.
---. Rev. of Honkvtonk Man. Newsdav 15 December 1982, pt. 2: 67.
Gentry, Ric. “ Charismatic Clint.” McCall’s June 1987: 136, 138-141.
— . “Clint Eastwood: An Interview.” Film Quarterly Spring 1989: 12-23.
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— . “Director Clint Eastwood: Attention to Detail and Involvement for the
Audience.” Millimeter December 1980: 126-133.
— . “Fora Few Dollars Less: Clint Eastwood, Director.” Millimeter March
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— . “ The Sound of Bird.” Theatre Crafts November 1988: 52-53, 81-86.
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| Image January-Februarv I982: 59-63.
<
I
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i
<
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1984: 61-67.
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84.
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Times 17 January 1988, pt. 2: 1, 24.
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—. “ Questions of Property: Film and Nationhood,” Cinema Tracts 1978:
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i
i Henry, Michael. “ Clint Eastwood: L’Ange a la Fenetre d’Occident sur
j Pale Rider.” Positif. n. 295, September 1985: 38-39.
i
; — . “Entretien avec Clint Eastwood sur Pale Rider.” Positif. n. 295, Sep-
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1978: 14-16.
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Hoberman, J. Rev, of Tightrope. Village Voice 28 August 1984: 45.
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— . “Carmel Assesses Mayor Clint Eastwood: There is No Consensus
Yet on Performance.” Monterey Peninsula Herald 23 November
1986: B1, B4.
— . “ Carmel Votes for Eastwood in a Landslide.” Monterev Peninsula
Herald 9 April 1986: 1,5.
— . “Carmel’s Mayor Eastwood Says He Still Has Unfinished Business.”
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— . “Eastwood, Carmel Council Drop Suits.” Monterey Peninsula Herald
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— . “Eastwood in Midst of Race.” Monterev Peninsula Herald. 29 March
1988: 3.
— . “Eastwood Sets Sights on Mayor of Carmel.” Monterev Peninsula
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Jaxi, 1979: 130-48.
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New Literary History. 1974: 283-317.
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tober 1988: 110,112.
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— . “The Good, the So-So, and the Ugly.” Rev. of Heartbreak Ridae.
New Yorker 29 December 1986: 85.
—. “Killing Time.” Rev, of Maonum Force. New Yorker 14 January 1974:
84, 87-89.
—. “Pop Mystics.” Rev. of Pale Rider. New Yorker 12 August 1985: 64-
65.
---. Rev, of Sudden Impact. New Yorker 23 January 1984: 93.
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Ridae. New Republic 5-12 January 1987: 24-25.
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American Film March 1985: 63-67.
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—. Rev, of Citv Heat. Newsweek 10 December 1984: 97.
—. Rev, of Firefox. Newsweek 28 June 1982: 73.
—. Rev, of Tightrope. Newsweek 27 August 1984: 68.
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—. “ Clint Buys Mission Ranch: Eastwood Intends to Preserve the Pro
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—. “Clint Maintains a Passion for Local Politics." Carmel Pine Cone 25
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— . “Clint Says ‘No’ to a Second Term as Mayor.” Carmel Pine Cone 4
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---. “Eastwood Donates $30,000 to Help Victims Group.” Carmel Pine
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— . “Eastwood Polls Voters on Beach Project.” Carmel Pine Cone 30
December 1986: 4.
—. “Eastwood Throws his Weight Around for CYC.” Carmel Pine Cone
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—. “Endangered Elephants at Heart of New Eastwood Film.” Carmel
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— . “Even After Hitting 60, Eastwood Still Looking for New Challenges.”
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—. “Sue Hutchinson Eastwood’s Right-Hand ‘Man.’” Carmel Pine Cone
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— . “Charlie Parker’s Tempestuous Life and Music.” Rev. of Bird. New
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— . “Clint Eastwood’s New Look.” New York Times 11 January 1981, pt.
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—. “Unreal Heroes for the 80’s.” New York Times 19 July 1981, pt. 2:
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406
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—. “Defense Dept. Backs Away from Ridge.” Los Anaeles Times 25 No
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—. “For Eastwood, a Daring Jazz Riff.” Los Angeles Times 22 Septem
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—. ‘The Leading Man of Hearings Has Hollywood Talking.” Los Ange
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407
— . “Eastwood, Carmel Showdown Ends With Project Compromise.”
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—. Rev, of Pale Rider. New York Post 28 June 1985: 43.
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129.
—. Rev. of Honkvtonk Man. Village Voice 28 December 1982: 61.
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408
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— . “More Than One Note at a Time.” Rev. of Bird. Time 3 October 1988:
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— . “Plain Song.” Rev, of Honkvtonk Man. Time 20 December 1982: 82.
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—. Rev, of Firefox. Time 21 June 1982: 72.
—. Rev, of Magnum Force. Time 11 February 1974: 64.
—. Rev, of Tightrope. Time 27 August 1984: 64.
—. “ Top Gunner.” Time 8 December 1986: 103.
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409
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— . “Eastwood Wins Easy Victory in Carmel Vote." Los Anaeles Times 9
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—. Rev, of Honkvtonk Man. New York Post 15 December 1982: 60.
—. Rev, of Sudden Impact. New York Post 9 December 1983: 41.
—. Rev, of Tightrope. New York Post 14 August 1984: 41.
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411
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Dissertations
Allor, Martin F. Cinema. Culture and the Social Formation: Ideology and
Critical Practice. Diss. University of Illinois of Urbana-Champaign,
1984.
Conference Papers
O'Neil, James M. “Men's Gender Role Conflicts and Journies at Mid
life.” Paper presented at 98th Annual Meeting of the American
Psychological Association, Boston, August 10, 1990.
Monographs
Television Monograph: Coronation Street. British Film Institute, 1981.
Films
Benjamin, Richard, director. Citv Heat. With Clint Eastwood and Burt
Reynolds. Warner Bros., 1984.
Cimino, Michael, director. Thunderbolt and Lightfoot. With Clint East
wood and Jeff Bridges. United Artists, 1974.
Eastwood, Clint, director. Bird. With Forest Whitaker and Diane Venora.
Warner Bros., 1988.
Eastwood, Clint, director. Breezy. With William Holden and Kay Lenz.
Universal, 1973.
Eastwood, Clint, director. Bronco Billy. With Clint Eastwood and Sondra
Locke. W arner Bros.-Columbia, 1980.
412
Eastwood, Clint, director. The Eiger Sanction. With Clint Eastwood and
George Kennedy. Universal, 1975.
Eastwood, Clint, director. Firefox. With Clint Eastwood and Freddie
Jones. Warner Bros.-Columbia, 1982.
Eastwood, Clint, director. The Gauntlet. With Clint Eastwood and Sondra
Locke. Warner Bros., 1977.
Eastwood, Clint, director. Heartbreak Ridge. With Clint Eastwood and
Marsha Mason. Warner Bros., 1986.
Eastwood, Clint, director. High Plains Drifter. With Clint Eastwood and
Verna Bloom. Universal, 1973.
Eastwood, Clint, director. Honkytonk Man. With Clint Eastwood and Kyle
Eastwood. Warner Bros., 1982.
Eastwood, Clint, director. The Outlaw Josev Wales. With Clint Eastwood
and Sondra Locke. Warner Bros.-Columbia, 1976.
Eastwood, Clint, director. Pale Rider. With Clint Eastwood and Michael
Moriarty. Warner Bros., 1985.
Eastwood, Clint, director. Plav Mistv for Me. With Clint Eastwood and
Jessica Walter. Universal, 1971.
Eastwood, Clint, director. Sudden Impact. With Clint Eastwood and
Sondra Locke. Warner Bros., 1983.
Fargo, James, director. The Enforcer. With Clint Eastwood and Tyne
Daly. Warner Bros.-Columbia, 1976.
Fargo, James, director. Every Which Wav But Loose. With Clint East
wood and Sondra Locke. Warner Bros.-Columbia, 1978.
Hutton, Brian, director. Where Eagles Dare. With Clint Eastwood and
Richard Burton. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 1969.
Hutton, Brian, director. Kellv’s Heroes. With Clint Eastwood and Telly
Savalas. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 1970.
413
Leone, Sergio, director. A Fistful of Dollars. With Clint Eastwood and
Gian Maria Volonte. United Artists. 1964.
Leone, Sergio, director. For a Few Dollars More. With Clint Eastwood
and Lee Van Cleef. United Artists. 1965.
Leone, Sergio, director. The Good, the Bad and the Ualv. With Clint
Eastwood and Eli Wallach. United Artists. 1966.
Logan, Joshua, director. Paint Your Waaon. With Clint Eastwood and
Lee Marvin. Paramount, 1969.
Post, Ted, director. Hana’em High. With Clint Eastwood and Inger Stev
ens. United Artists, 1968.
Post, Ted, director. Maanum Force. With Clint Eastwood and Hal Hol
brook. Warner Bros., 1973.
Siegel, Don, director. The Beguiled. With Clint Eastwood and Geraldine
Page. Universal, 1970.
Siegel, Don, director. Coooan’s Bluff. With Clint Eastwood and Lee J.
Cobb. Universal, 1968.
Siegel, Don, director. Dirtv Harrv. With Clint Eastwood and Andy Robin
son. Warner Bros.-Seven Arts, 1971.
Siegel, Don, director. Escape from Alcatraz. With Clint Eastwood and
Patrick MacGoohan. Paramount, 1979.
Siegel, Don, director. Two Mules for Sister Sara. With Clint Eastwood
and Shirley MacLaine. Universal, 1970.
Sturges, John, director. Joe Kidd. With Clint Eastwood and John Saxon.
Universal, 1972.
Tuggle, Richard, director. Tightrope. With Clint Eastwood and Gene
vieve Bujold. Warner Bros., 1984.
Van Horn, Buddy, director. Anv Which Wav You Can. With Clint Eastwood
and Sondra Locke. Warner Bros., 1981.
Van Horn, Buddy, director. The Dead Pool. With Clint Eastwood and
Patricia Clarkson. Warner Bros., 1988.
414
Television Programs
A Gathering of Men with Bill Movers and Robert Blv. Public Affairs Tele
vision, Inc., produced by Betsy McCarthy, distributed by Mystic
Fire Video, New York, 1990.
The Violent Men of the Movies, produced by David Sheehan, KNXT-TV,
1975.
415

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Asset Metadata

Creator Cheatham, Richard Beau (author)

Core Title Clint Eastwood: An ideological study of his films, star image, and popularity

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Communications

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag Biography,Cinema,OAI-PMH Harvest

Language English

Contributor Digitized by ProQuest (provenance)

Advisor Jewell, Richard B. (committee chair), [illegible] (committee member), Fisher, Walter (committee member)

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c17-725443

Unique identifier UC11344530

Identifier DP22475.pdf (filename),usctheses-c17-725443 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier DP22475.pdf

Dmrecord 725443

Document Type Dissertation

Rights Cheatham, Richard Beau

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Access Conditions The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the au...

Repository Name University of Southern California Digital Library

Repository Location USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus, Los Angeles, California 90089, USA