Rhapsody in Newman

I was watching Slap Shot for maybe the billionth time the other day with Frank, Dan, and Irene. The occasion was supposed to be inauguration of Irene into the cult of the Hanson brothers. But for whatever reason--maybe it was the repetitive viewings, maybe it was the sluggishness brought on by the fatal combination of hangover and chicken and waffles, maybe it was just kismet--I found myself locked onto Paul Newman.

It's a tremendous performance. He is an absolute, go-for-broke asshole. He lies, he cheats, he manipulates, he seduces. He calls an 8- or 9-year-old kid one of the few things that Irene won't permit to be said under her roof. And he never loses a second of twinkling charm. Frank and Dan kept on voicing absolute astonishment that Newman would ever read this script and decide to do this movie.

That's when it struck me that during most of his career, Paul Newman absolutely quixotically crusaded against his image. He played assholes again and again and again. You can make the case that this was all the vogue in the 70s--to be the leading man who was also the character actor. And character actor tended to be code for complex, which was code for "frequently acts like an asshole."

But there is something special about Newman. He is not primarily remembered as an asshole. As Dan pointed out, Newman is kind of an awful human being in Hud. But you still kind of understand why the kid would want to emulate him. Cool Hand Luke? Awesomely cool. And...asshole. And on and on--The Hustler, The Sting, The Verdict...

And of course, not The Robe.

And I never experienced Newman as an asshole in Slap Shot. I rooted for him, I believed him, I never mistook him for anything but the hero of the movie. Even better, I remember my friend Aleta having a mad crush for Newman in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and being caught somewhere between dumbstruck and angry with me when I laughed about how much she and Maggie were completely focused and deeply obsessed with Brick, yet completely unaware that he was obviously gay. Trust me, Aleta doesn't usually miss this kind of thing. Nor, I imagine, does Elizabeth Taylor.

In many ways, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is a signature metaphor for Newman's career. Despite Brick's obvious ambivalency and failures as a person, Maggie and the family persist in seeing him as the thing they need him to be. Meanwhile, Brick rages against that image. Newman too seems to have that thing in him--that full attack on his image. Trouble is, the man is so damn handsome and charming, we persist in seeing him the way we need to see him. No matter how far out he pushes (for instance, to the edge of sexual assault), we hold onto him--for his character's potential if for nothing else. It's a thing that his partner-in-arms Redford never had; in his morally questionable parts, he still needed to be a good guy. Newman, even as the good guy, has to be the bad guy.

Perhaps adding to the realization has been Newman's parts in recent years. Although excellent, Nobody's Fool, The Hudsucker Proxy, and Road to Perdition don't have the iconic weight of the earlier movies, so it's easier to accept the heel turn. But, even though it's less of an uphill battle against his looks now, Newman still carries the heavy burden of his past. I still feel a rooting interest in Newman, even if I'm against the character.

And when you realize that one of the handsomest actors in the history of Hollywood has a Fight Club mentality, leading him to get in the ring and try to beat the shit out of his image to feel alive in every great role he ever took, and then fail to even dent that image--well, it makes for a great tension when you're watching the greatest hockey movie ever made.

Next Time: Youngblood