Cool Hand Luke (1967)
WB DVD (region 1, 2, 4)

Introduction

Cool Hand Luke was one of the leading artistic and critical triumphs of its decade and remains one of the most highly regarded prison films ever made. 

It emerged from the late 1960s, the period of the cult of the anti-hero in American film – anti-establishment loners (even losers) who defined themselves in opposition to contemporary social dictum.  Often the protagonists of these films, which included such cult classics as Easy Rider and Vanishing Point, would make a symbolic gesture of defiance before the dominant authority would seek to put them in their place, break their spirit or simply eliminate them.  Actor Paul Newman had steadily developed a repertoire of these loners / losers in such as Hud and Hombre (both for director Martin Ritt) and finally intersected true anti-hero status in Cool Hand Luke, finding surprising acclaim with reviewers and audiences and in the process cementing the feature film career of director Stuart Rosenberg, previously known for his work in episodic television.  Indeed, Newman and Rosenberg worked so well and with such mutual respect that when Newman and others (including Sidney Poitier and Barbra Streisand) intended to form their own production company, First Artists, Rosenberg was entrusted as a regular director.  The two went on to make three other intriguing and neglected films in the early 1970s – Pocket Money, WUSA and The Drowning Pool.

Synopsis

Paul Newman stars as Luke, whom we first see one night drunkenly removing the heads from parking meters.  When the police question him, he can barely string a sentence together and smiles defiantly at them.  He is subsequently sentenced to a roadside prison where he is set to work on a chain gang. 

Critical Comment

The anti-establishment nature of this film is quite clear and the opposition between a free spirit (however lost he may be) and the forces of repression dominates its agenda in the second half especially. 

However, Luke is something of a reluctant hero, his actions perhaps championing his individuality but without evidence of any purposeful direction or deliberation in his life.  He is arguably a loser who tries to run from himself, his past and whatever force would try to regulate or control him: on one level it is empty stubbornness and purposeless defiance although the film develops this character to both encapsulate and comment on the so-called “anti-hero” as a flawed symbol at once admirable in spirit but doomed in life as such individuality and defiance becomes so problematic for the authorities that they are unsure of how to discipline it.  However, what is for certain is that this authority cannot be reached or swayed from its desire first to restrict, punish and finally to break the free will of anyone who would defy them in any manner.  Thus, the film depicts authority as petty, cruel and intent to systematically destroy a person’s spirit, in effect denying them their right to ever again act as individuals in charge of their own destiny.  In such a spectrum, Newman’s defiance cannot be tolerated, especially when he becomes something of a hero for the other prisoners: authority would doubly prevent him from becoming a role model.

It is thus in Luke’s relationship to the other prisoners that the film starts to develop its most intriguing theme, becoming something of a Christ analogy.  Hence, Newman is repeatedly paralleled to Christ, with the other prisoners as disciples. 

In this analogy Luke is perhaps trying to run from a higher destiny, leading to the final scenes in a Church.  Indeed, earlier in the film he appeals to a God for some hint of acknowledgement.  When captured once and brought back to the prison Luke tells the other convicts to “stop feeding off me” and of course, as in any Christ analogy, there is eventually a Judas figure.  It is this provocative analogy that speaks of the quasi-religious need within American society to in effect create martyrs out of disillusioned loners / losers who defy authority without apparent purpose or other explanation.  The further irony in the film is that these deity figures are needed precisely because of the vicarious existence they give to others – they are in effect martyred by design.  Authority will simply not accept defiance, as Martin asserts in the film’s most quoted line “what we have here is a failure to communicate”.  Yet, if in Luke’s defiant individuality there is a message then it is only understood in the lives of society’s discards, trapped and enchained.  As such, anti-establishment martyrdom is inherently futile, even resented by the knowing Luke, and the film’s ending is truly downbeat.

DVD DETAILS:

Vision

The 16:9 enhanced widescreen transfer fully preserves an astonishingly rich and complex compositional sense.  It is a delicately textured and rendered film making especially fine use of the contrast between openness and constriction as Luke moves through its spaces. 

The idea of an unapproachable and unknowable (hence evil?) authority is neatly given a visual correlative in the reflective sunglasses worn by one of the guards.  The prison sets are vividly rendered and the film achieves an admirable sense of authenticity, capturing the intense heat of summer and the dirty, sweaty bodies – few films have caught the sheer physicality of hard labour with such purposeful conviction.  It also captures the evolving colours and textures of a single day and how these develop into routine.  The sexual tensions of males in captivity are also suggested.  The landscape is suitably harsh and the drab greens, browns and yellowing shrubs are stressed throughout.  The orange heat of an oppressive sun is well rendered and contrasted to the seeming coolness of shadow.  Also interesting as a visual motif is the use of traffic signs and traffic lights as almost divine warnings punctuating Luke’s road to essentially aimless defiance.  Likewise, director Stuart Rosenberg effectively stresses the light sources within his frames and there is a subtle way in which the colours seem slightly more vivid at night, when figures are combined with some nice backlighting effects.

Sound

The sound transfer in Dolby Digital mono may reveal the limitations of the original source when compared to current digital technology but is indeed a fine transfer, preserving the initial intentions.

Lalo Schifrin’s evocative, acclaimed score is one of his most tellingly bittersweet, slyly melancholic in moments and also rather sparsely used, tied to themes of endurance and oppression.  Indeed, the sound design of the film is more attuned to smaller sounds and the details of human voices amidst natural, open and closed surroundings.  The details of prison existence are all naturally crisp, with the background guard dogs’ barking, the creaking bunks, and chain rattles most effective.  The sounds of men at work carry an appropriately harsh and rugged, though understated, physicality.  Smaller details, of running through harsh terrain and water, are all perfectly rendered although much of the film’s mix seems subtle and restrained, almost casual, tensing up as the film progresses.  At times the serene sounds of nature (and crickets) are almost portentous.  All combine for an effective authenticity to anchor the film most convincingly although in comparison to contemporary DVD releases it seems flat and centred.  Nevertheless, it is always clear and surprisingly free from defect.  Strother Martin’s immortal “failure to communicate” line has since entered popular culture, even being sampled for a dance song several years ago.

Copyright (C) Robert Cettl All Rights Reserved Last modified: April 5, 2009