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CE#3 – Cool Hand Luke: The New Gospel and the DIY Christ

SO MANY SPOILERS.

But the movie’s like 40 years old. So any complaints are invalid. Kinda like with Lord of The Rings.

It was originally written by Donn Pearce in 1965, it was converted into a screenplay by him and Frank Pierson, and then Cool Hand Luke went on to become one of the most highly regarded films ever made. It was set in a road prison in the Florida Panhandle during the 50’s. The movie starred Paul Newman in the titular role, George Kennedy as Dragline, and Strother Martin as “The Captain.” This film managed to turn every major character it had into a cultural figure, and every quote from it rings in people’s ears for days after they hear it. It has been preserved in the National Film Registry for being “Culturally, Historically, or Aesthetically Significant.”

So what makes it so great a film? Well, it has this one specific character, Luke, who everyone in camp looks up to. And everyone else I know who’s seen the film does, too. Why is he so admirable? There’s a real question.

One of the first things people really notice about the films deeper levels is that Luke is a Christ Figure. The examples of it are pretty blatant, and there are plenty of examples. At one point, he commits to eating fifty eggs. This becomes the biggest thing to ever happen at the camp, and everyone makes a bet on it. As the fifty prisoners (and the cook, and even Carr, the floorwalker) watch, he finishes every one of them. He passes out at the end, lying on a table, in the shape of a crucifix. This is perfect, because each egg could be considered the sins of a prisoner, and he suffered like that for them. Those bets come into it, too: Red says, around the 40^th egg, that “Every cent in camp is riding on this.” Those cents represent their souls.

Since Luke doesn’t believe in God (which is only ironic for a real Jesus, not for Luke), he wears a bottle opener around his neck instead of a cross (which would be ironic for the real Jesus). The other prisoners idolize him for being the man they all wish they could be, and the prison guards hate him for having a power over the prisoners they don’t have. At the same time, the guards of the camp can’t overpower him and get him to bend to their will.

Now, why do the prisoners think they can never exist on the same level he does? The reason is because of the way they play the game. Before Luke showed up, they all looked up to Dragline, because he knew the rules better than anyone, and could therefore deal with them better. Luke, however, knows the rules and knows that they don’t matter. He’s just biding his time, looking for something to do. If he is limited by anything, it’s that he doesn’t want his mother to have to bury him – and we see him pull out all the stops after her death. During his third escape attempt, he holes up in an old country church, where he has a dialogue with God. Of note are when he calls The Lord “Old Man,” a synonym for “father” (which is what “abba” means), and when he says that “you [God] haven’t dealt me any cards in a long time,” which is easily compared to Christ’s “Why have you forsaken me?”

Now that we’ve established that we’re dealing with the most obvious Christ figure since the Bible, we can dive into it with everything outside of just Luke. First, the leadership of the camp represents the Roman state, with the Captain taking the place of Roman leadership from the emperor down to Pontius Pilot. Everything this man does is ultimately designed to bring Luke down from the messiah position he holds with the other prisoners, because if Luke and the prisoners are totally unafraid of him, then he has no power over them.

Boss Godfry, also known as The Walking Boss, or The Man with No Eyes, is a silent figure of oppression. He gains his second moniker from the ever-present reflective aviators he wears, which blocks his eyes, and instead show the observer. He is perpetually silent. He could be representative of many things, such as the devil, the unyielding pressure of oppression, or even as a reflection of the prisoners. His reflective eyes and silent nature can allow prisoners, guards, and the Captain to place their problems onto him, as sometimes happens with a family pet. For the prisoners, he is opposed to every action they take to establish free will, so the reflection is that he is the opposite of them. He is free, and wants them to stay imprisoned. Therefore, when his spectacles are shown as reflecting a prisoner, all that he represents is the consequences of their actions.

The devil in him is shown best in the scene where he shoots a snake. After he shoots it, he leaves it on the ground, and then reaches down to where he put it and hands him his cane. He is never shown putting his cane down at that spot, so it seems as if the dead snake transforms into it. This means that, when Luke picked up the snake to be shot, he was totally violating the isolation of that boss. Towards the end of the movie, Dragline attacks him and knocks off his glasses, which are then run over by a vehicle, destroying his isolation and everything we know about him.

Carr, the floorwalker, is the guard in the bunkhouse. He presumably stays up all night keeping watch over the prisoners, always counting them and making sure none escape. He never shown sleeping, and seen nearly every time the prisoners are at the camp. He dresses in all white, save his black boots, and paces the aisle to count the men. He can be considered as an angelic guard in Purgatory, watching and ensuring that all of the souls in for cleansing stay their time. His white clothing and general kindness to the prisoners are contrary to everyone else in the camp, representing his purity and angelic love. However, his black boots show that he constantly walks in the mud of sin.

The Captain can also be seen as a Purgatorial figure, leading the way in the cleansing of these men. However, he does his job cruelly, and could be more properly figured as a demonic figure. He wants all of the prisoners to accept his word as law, as evidenced by the incredibly famous quote of “what we have here is failure to communicate.” In the movie, all of the communication with the Captain is from the top down, and there is almost no talking to the captain. One figure the Captain can be aligned with is Catos, from Dante’s Divine Comedy. When the new prisoners first arrive, they are stood in front of the Captain’s porch, where he reads off their offenses and their length of stay, much like the aforementioned pagan. However, he does not seem to figure well with the fact that Cato so loved freedom that he gave his life rather than be oppressed by Caesar.

Finally, Dragline seems to be an amalgam of several disciples. First, he is like Peter, because he is very close to Luke and spread his gospel. Also though, he becomes an accidental Judas when the police use him to get at Luke.

So Luke is quite the Christ figure. But why is he more significant and amazing than others? One reason is the fantastic storytelling. Another, perhaps, is that he is so much smaller than Christ. All he does is follow his own rules, and he doesn’t need anyone else. He understands that others need him, and can usually deal with it. He never plans anything, he just runs with what seems right at the moment. He has learned the lesson of the reeds: if you stand strong, like a tree, against the winds, you can stay upright in a breeze. But at the first gust, you will break. A reed will bend over in any breeze, but will never be broken.

Because Luke never performs a miracle beyond his exercise in egg consumption, he seems a more attainable figure. He is great, yes, but not so great as to be impossible to emulate. And just imagine: if the whole world were like Luke, where might we be?

Walk All Over You

Walk All Over You

It’s cold as I’ll get out right now, and that’s great. It gives me an excellent excuse to throw away the summer-oriented footwear I so abhor and bust out my boots. Even when I’m not scrubbing pipes in the engine room of a retired PT boat, wearing a pair of boots draws on an even more sacred type of history than that of blue jeans – these are some of the most ancient shoes that people still wear.

It all goes back to the military, of course. Not only is that where they originated, but they still pump out so many that a pair of “combat boots” isn’t too uncommon in even the non-military types (not to mention the counter-military stereotype). They have evolved into various species, ranging from cowboy to punk rocker, and more specifically Doc Martens and the half-rubber Bean Boot from LL Bean. Even the term “combat boot” is a generalization, as you’ll have to sort through jump boots, tanker boots, jungle boots and others if you plan to buy a pair. All boots are worn for fashion at some point, and they long ago left the idea to be made for work alone.

Consider the Chelsea boot. Made without laces, it secures itself thanks to elastic panels on either side at the top. There are variations for both men and women, but they are practically useless outside in the mud, or working anywhere. They’d come off way too easily for it to be feasible. Other boots, such as Doc Martens, have almost transcended their roots as work boots and are more often spotted on the feet of fashion-forward men.

A boot, when new, is nothing special. Like a good tweed jacket or pair of jeans, they need to be broken in before they’re worth anything. This process irrevocably binds a pair to a single owner – they’re molded to your feet, and no other person can fill your boots the way you do. This means a pair of boots is an incredibly personal thing to own, and to replace them would be equivalent of replacing a friend or pet.

A boot is multi-functional, thanks to an incredible product called Kiwi Shoe Polish. I’ve worn freshly polished combat boots with a suit, and received complements on them. A few days later, I wore them to work with a pair of jeans – same compliment. I wear a pair nearly every day. I try to polish them weekly.

To be able to polish boots, or even dress shoes, is a rapidly disappearing skill. In these days of patent leather and floor-waxed tuxedo shoes, the ability seems irrelevant. But who fails to be impressed by a shiny pair of shoes at someone’s feet? It used to be equivalent to the adolescent male’s first shave. Polishing shoes was important, and it was passed from father to son. But nowadays, most people don’t own a shoe brush, let alone a tin of saddle soap.

Boots have been a large enough factor in the world at large that many expressions referring to them have become popular. You might get booted from a club, boot up your computer (this one is derived from the idea of pulling oneself up by their bootstraps), or maybe you recall the phrase Orwell used to summarize oppression and prophesize the future: “A boot stamping on a human face — forever.”

The footwear also asserts itself in other ways. Perhaps the most notable is Nancy Sinatra’s song, “These Boots Are Made For Walkin’,” which hit the number one spot on the Billboard charts. Other women who want to make the same statement are also spotted in high boots, often wearing them all the way to their thighs.

This brings us to the images associated with various boots. A man in a pair of cowboy boots, with jeans, an earth-toned work shirt and a cowboy hat evokes a different idea than someone wearing the same boots with a pair of khakis and a dress shirt. Combat boots, with a grey military uniform, a la Nazi Stormtroopers, bring the feeling oppression while someone wearing combat boots with an army surplus outfit provokes the image of anti-Vietnam protestors and perhaps homeless veterans.

Cultural Experience – The Drumline, before Clemson vs. SC State

As a member of the Clemson Drumline, my game day cultural experience is like no other. It starts earlier than most tailgaters, grabbing a quick breakfast (my only meal that I got until 11 PM) on the way to band at 7 in the morning. I scarf it down in Drew’s truck, and we pull up to the Brooks Center and grab our instruments to go warm up.

We are there about a half hour before any non-Drumline band members are there. This is normal. Game day rehearsals are probably the most focused of any wee have, and when the whole band plays its first note together at 8 o’ clock you can hear it reverberating off of every building on campus. Without fail, I receive word every week that this is why people wake up on Saturday mornings. Shaking the Southland indeed.

This time, we had a member miss rehearsal. This is almost unprecedented. But we deal with it by following through with the punishment ordained years and years ago – that member is not marching today. Everyone feels bad for him, but nobody gives him a hard time for it. We all know that he we feel the whole of the punishment as he sits in the stands alone for half-time.

After rehearsal is over, most of the line goes to Harcombe together to get something to eat. I, along with some of the other veteran members stay in Brooks to get the place a little cleaner and make sure every stick is in its place. When people start returning, the cymbal players start to clean their instruments of the grime that has built up over the past week. Then everyone starts to get their uniforms on, only to be interrupted by the “Tenor Cave,” one of the most exciting Drumline traditions. Essentially, everyone squeezes into a closet and dances around to the ever-present song “Zombie Nation,” before rushing out of the closet and tapping a hat in a manner parallel to the Hill and Howard’s Rock.

We put on our drums and jackets, helping each other get the buttons that can be reached on our own. We line up in front of Brooks and start our procession to Daniel Hall, where we warm up before the “90 Minutes Before Kick-Off Concert.” Warm ups are invariably attended by a contingent of drum loving children, high-schoolers, and our family and friends. After we finish, we visit with the audience for a few minutes before proceeding to the Amphitheater for the concert.

At this point, the whole line is pumped for the game and what that entails. The concert goes well, and we move onto the parade. We line up in our proper places and the “Parade Cheer” takes place. One of the Tenor players, Paul, starts it with a nonsense call-and-response, which proceeds to the chant that outlines the evolution of the name of the Clemson University Drumline:

“T. B. D. L.?”       “Bwuaaaah!”

“C. U. P. S.?”      “Chk-chk, BOOM!”

“P. I. M. P.?”      “What?”

“C. U. D.?”           “F___ed up what’s up!”

highly regarded quotation

[Writing of the famous photograph taken by the Voyager spacecraft, “The Pale Blue Dot”: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_pale_blue_dot ]

On the scale of worlds, humans are inconsequential, a thin film of life on an obscure and solitary lump of rock and metal.

- Carl Sagan, The Pale Blue Dot.

Introducing

Name: Warren Kenneth McElhaney III, or “Kenny.”

Major(Minor): English Literature (No minor. Does this make me inferior?)

Hometown: Mobile, AL

Favorite Book: Right now, it’s probably One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Alternatively, Dune by Frank Herbert, or any number of others.

Favorite Movie: A Clockwork Orange…? Essientially the same situation as above.

Favorite Band/Musician: David Bowie, The Who, or…