Cool Hand Luke (Deluxe Edition) (1967)

He's one odd boy, this Luke. He hardly even seems to care he's in stir for having done this. To him a work farm just seems like another place for him to wait for something interesting to happen -- and when it does (as it always does), there's that big, lazy smile of his. Was he waiting for something? Probably not -- by the time it's all over, he hasn't gotten a single thing he wanted (except for a hilarious out-of-town stint), but he's given a lot of other people more than they could have ever asked.

What makes "Cool Hand Luke" such a wonderful movie is its tone and tenor -- widely imitated but not surpassed by other movies of its stripe. The movie is not about prison or chain gangs, but about the weather of a man's spirit, and how he deals (or chooses not to deal) with what he's been handed. Luke himself says it: "Sometimes nothing can be a real cool hand," and he sums himself up in that sentence. Here is a fellow with no particular skills in life, no real direction, no ambition -- in short, something we are ostensibly taught from the git-go to hate. His crime? Parking meters.

The film draws a simple case: Luke as a quietly selfish free spirit vs. the system. But instead of loading it down with symbolic baggage, the movie works by making its case with drama and often great humor. The egg-eating contest, for instance -- it finds just the right balance between humor and drama to make its points, and ends with Luke passed out on the bed in a Christlike pose. (Whether or not that's a deliberate shot is open to speculation; it certainly looks like it was composed, but it's not held too long to force the issue on us.)

The best thing about the movie is the performances. Nobody hits a false note or an unconvincing turn. A big chunk of George Kennedy's reputation comes from this film, and you can see why: he's more or less the direct foil for Paul Newman throughout the movie, commenting on and playing off the man's actions. But look how many others are also in here: Strother Martin (as Captain), Dennis Hopper, Harry Dean Stanton... a veritable roll-call of actors who're all independently watchable and fascinating.

There's a scene when he bluffs his way to victory in a poker match, thus his nickname "cool hand Luke". Another scene has him fighting with another inmate until he's nearly unconscious, but he never surrenders. Yet another has him eating 50 eggs in an hour for a bet, and he doesn't give up. And I think this is the metaphor for the rest of the film. You can either see him as a cocky stubborn man, or more appropriately, a man who won't give up his freedom. He's thrown in prison and chain gang labor for a case of petty vandalism during a drunken stupor, yet he never utters a word about it, even during the most humiliating or painful punishment, but his conviction and sentence are hardly a matter in this film. Here is a man who is troubled and dysfunctional (as the story slightly exposes), but is already in an advanced state of personal freedom. Though he'd like to be living a normal life, searches for it, and deserves as much, he doesn't need it. He's spiritually and mentally invincible, and eventually it leads to his ultimate fate.

Cool Hand Luke is a marvelous film. It's one fourth romantic, three fourths gritty reality. Paul Newman and the gorgeous cinematography are the romance. Newman nearly carries the film. Here's this movie star, a charismatic leading man who liberally uses his smile to get himself through scenes, but he immerses himself into his character. I think Luke is one of the greatest, most complex male characters to grace the screen, and Newman is really the only actor who could ever do him justice. But he isn't playing Newman, he's playing Luke, every inch of Luke. He IS Luke, he is this renegade rebel, this charming dapper Dan, and this tragic everyman. Newman's supporting cast is superb, in one of the best acted films I've ever seen. George Kennedy is incredible as the only sizable supporting character, though the rest of the cast do their utmost to fit their roles, especially the various sinister and slimy wardens, and they do it beautifully. No actor wastes his time on screen. They create the atmosphere.

I just have to mention the dialogue. This is one of those films with incredible dialogue. Nothing is sappy or soupy. It embraces wit and logic, a lovely razor sharpness, and a down to earth realism. Every sentence is perfectly placed, there are no superfluous words, every character with they're own style that still allow them to sound like real people. End of dialogue discussion.

This film is simple. It's simply told, simply filmed, and on the outside it's a simple story, but I think it delves a lot deeper than at first appearance. It's unpretentious. Without us knowing it paints an environment, it paints a setting. It's a movie with certain faintly stylized points and flourishes, with a bit of a Southern storytelling air and lilt to it, and a definite love for fun. But it's intense, from the acting, to plot twists and character developements, to minor "action" sequences (a movie populated by inmates and movie stars has to have some excitement), it has incredible depth in it's subtle symbolism and it's layered messages and it's performances with their emotional tapestries. Thus, it has an immense replayability quotient.

This is drama at it's finest. It is a complex intriguing film that can get under your skin in it's rawness, but can still entertain you, and send you into that dreamy mesmerized state of being in awe of a film and the characters portrayed in it.