|
Subject: Cried like a baby  Thank you for the site. It's beautiful. And I cried like a baby when I got to Goodnight Sweet Prince. He was lovely, wasn't he? It would be hard to explain to a non-Mitchum fan just what he had that was so attractive -- besides that fabulous face and physique. Partly, it was that he stood out as an image of manhood that isn't popular anymore. America's modern-day "bad boys" are just that -- boys. Not Mitchum. He was all man. And how. There's only one celebrity I can think of who shares a little of Mitchum's independent spirit and attitude and that's Harrison Ford. Both he and Mitchum were banged around quite a bit by life before they got anywhere in the movie business. That experience must have contributed to their appeal. I mean, how manly can you be if you've been raised middle class, lived in a suburb all your life and never had to fend for yourself? It's a small miracle that Mitchum made it out of that rough life and into a movie career. I don't think he would have been given the same chance today. America hasn't fought a big war recently and according to the "experts," American fans don't like their male stars too weathered, or too tested or too tough. When we do get one, like Mel Gibson or Sly Stallone used to be (before they turned into suit-wearing, deal-making Hollywood businessmen), the studios and agents soften his image and dilute his rough edges. What we loved about the man's spirit ends up getting buried under a heap of cheesey special effects, brainless dialog and press fluff. But Hollywood is only feeding us the images it sees as appropriate for our time. In most cases that means pretty-boys and clothes horses. Not a great comment on American men in the 90s. These boy stars (and their overgrown adult counterparts) never knew hard times, unless you count moving violations and detox centers. There's no substance to their "rebellions." At 15, Robert Mitchum was writing better poetry than anything churned out by the MTV grunge set today, and there's a reason for that. His pains were real. The life he writes about really happened. He lived it. He didn't need Calvin Klein to tell him how to be a man. And if Calvin had tried, I expect Mitch would have given him one helluva shiner. Mitchum was everything that powerful men in America wish they were and aren't. There is no board room or military establishment or movie studio that could produce a man like him today. He would never have acquiesced to a life of flattery and compromise anyway. To Mitchum, fame was a job and any man who chased fame for its own sake, or for the wealth he thought it would bring him, was an idiot. That he was also genuinely intelligent and "gentle" as his colleagues have said, would make him completely impossible to resist. But it was that irreverance for the trappings of fame and power that made him so perfect for film noire, and so attractive to fans with a penchant for anti-heros. For Mitchum, cynicism was a perfectly logical and justifiable response to the life he'd lived. No posing necessary. He wasn't perfect, but he was beautiful. And I'll miss him. Whatever it was he had, it's in short supply now. For the longest time, it was a comfort just to know that he was still around, holding up an image of what real men used to be. Reminding us of what heros in movies were like back when American men fought in big bloody wars. Reminding us what movies used to say about a man whose wits and whose will gave him more clout than a pistol or a fist full of dollars. And right up to the end, he dared us to discount him. You just know he would have hated all this chattering about how much we loved him. Well tough, Mitch. Now that you're gone, we can cry our damned eyes out and be real girlie about the whole thing. So there.
(Thanks for making room for our tears too.)
Thank you for your site! For someone whose image was of one who couldn't care less about anyone or anything, the number of people Robert Mitchum touched in life and film speaks volumes about the depth of his caring and the character within his soul. I'm 36, and it wasn't until May of this year that I happened to catch "Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison" on TV and fell full off a cliff in love with Robert Mitchum. God knows he was a hormone inducer of the highest level with those eyes, those shoulders, that voice and that controlled swagger of a walk. But beyond the obvious physical attributes, as I watched more of his films and read more about his life and career, the richness of this underappreciated actor became quite apparent. There are actors who become stars for one role or another and cash it in for superstar status and acclaim; there are damn few actors who are able to create their own galaxy. When the lights dimmed on July 1, it felt like a shot in the gut. Co-workers couldn't comprehend why I felt wounded over the "old Stone Face" who drank and smoked and died in his sleep. The next day, however, when Jimmy Stewart passed, the office tearfully mourned the loss of "a wonderful life." Mitchum, in death as in life, was cast into the shadows once again. But no matter. And no disrespect meant to Mr. Stewart, truly one of America's finest icons. Robert Mitchum may not have passed sobriety or angel tests at times, but he remained true to himself and to his friends. His fans, in turn, remain true to him. That's why I bounce around to calypso music while ironing my clothes for work each morning. And why I still sigh as I watch Jeff Bailey (a.k.a. Jeff Markham) walk ever so coolly into a "frame" from Out of his Past. The man had style. And he lit up the silver-screened sky with it time and time again. One of my favorite films was "Two for the Seesaw," which opened with a long and lush view of Mitchum walking (as only he could) across a New York bridge into the black and white loneliness of Gotham. Though his ashes are now one with the ever-churning waves of the ocean, I think part of him will be forever walking somewhere -- down some lonely city street, inhaling deeply on a cigarette, and pausing only to watch the smoke as it drifts effortlessly along the shadows of the night, into the starry galaxy of our souls. But who knows, with Robert Mitchum? He and Rin Tin Tin are probably drinking up a storm at some jazz joint, bemused with us and our gloomy selves. " We certainly fooled them, now, didn't we?" Bless that man, and a raised glass to us all.
Barbara Mault My best compliments for this great work, I agree the method and the contents. Good Guys! -- Andrea Biffi, Italy Ive just finished a pilgramage to your shrine of America's Best Actor. The only thing I can say is his picture should be in the dictionary next to the word m-a-n. -- Eddie R. no matter where r. mitchum appeared the screen seemed a little bigger. some actors walk onto the big screen and fade into the wallpaper, and some stick out like awkward scarecrows because they have plenty of ego, and not much else. interesting that jimmy stewart and r. mitchum pass away together, two actors who transcended the roles they played on screen, in totally different ways. -- David R. Hi, Just wanted to say really quick how much I appreciated your Robert Mitchum memorial. I found it the day after he passed away, and I passed the URL onto lots of other people. Yesterday I discovered how much you added to it. Thanks. - Michael P.S. I'm a big fan of the one Mitchum film no one ever mentions: "Thunder Road". Great song (and vocals) too. :)
|
