A review by Brooks Rich
Today I want to continue the discussion of toxic masculinity in the films of Walter Hill and what his films have to say about being a man. This recurring theme of his started all the way back in his first film, Hard Times from 1975. It's a portrait of the depression and how men, no longer able to be the breadwinners of their families, had to prove themselves in other ways. The way they choose to do so in this film is beating the fucking shit out of each other in back alley brawls and betting what little money they have left on those fights.
Charles Bronson is Chaney, a drifter who is riding the rails during the depression and ends up in New Orleans. There he hooks up with back alley fight promoter Speed, an electric James Coburn. The two form a shaky but profitable partnership where Speed gets them fights and Chaney beats the shit out of anyone he faces.
This film is teaming with toxic masculinity. I think the only one who can call themselves a real man is Chaney. Bronson plays him with the usual toughness he brought to his roles. Like the Driver in the previously mentioned the Driver, Chaney says very little, choosing his words carefully. In contrast is Speed who is talking a mile a minute to set up a fight or get them out of a situation he caused. The two make an odd pair but it works. Coburn and Bronson have amazing chemistry together and we as the audience buy into the partnership.
This is just one you have to watch for yourself. I don't want to give away any story beats. But this, The Driver, and Southern Comfort would make a great triple feature. I refer to it as Walter Hill's manly trilogy.
Today I want to continue the discussion of toxic masculinity in the films of Walter Hill and what his films have to say about being a man. This recurring theme of his started all the way back in his first film, Hard Times from 1975. It's a portrait of the depression and how men, no longer able to be the breadwinners of their families, had to prove themselves in other ways. The way they choose to do so in this film is beating the fucking shit out of each other in back alley brawls and betting what little money they have left on those fights.
Charles Bronson is Chaney, a drifter who is riding the rails during the depression and ends up in New Orleans. There he hooks up with back alley fight promoter Speed, an electric James Coburn. The two form a shaky but profitable partnership where Speed gets them fights and Chaney beats the shit out of anyone he faces.
This film is teaming with toxic masculinity. I think the only one who can call themselves a real man is Chaney. Bronson plays him with the usual toughness he brought to his roles. Like the Driver in the previously mentioned the Driver, Chaney says very little, choosing his words carefully. In contrast is Speed who is talking a mile a minute to set up a fight or get them out of a situation he caused. The two make an odd pair but it works. Coburn and Bronson have amazing chemistry together and we as the audience buy into the partnership.
This is just one you have to watch for yourself. I don't want to give away any story beats. But this, The Driver, and Southern Comfort would make a great triple feature. I refer to it as Walter Hill's manly trilogy.
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