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| Images courtesy of Warner Brothers |
This essay contains spoilers.
We were out on detail when I was in basic training and finished it early. The training instructor led us to a giant pile of different colored rocks. He told us to separate the stones by color. It took us several hours. When we were finished, he came over, and without a word, he mixed all the rocks together again. I remember feeling so angry and despondent, knowing that my time was worth nothing to this person and that I had spent so much doing something that ultimately didn't matter. I don't know what lesson I was supposed to learn from that. Maybe it was just a power move. It's devastating to be powerless.
Stuart Rosenberg's classic film Cool Hand Luke (1967) explores the juxtaposition of the romanticized ideal of the American dream and the harsh reality of those who fail to achieve it and fall through the system's cracks. Paul Newman plays a chill war veteran turned drunken vandalistic reprobate named Luke, whose actions buy him two years in a chain gang. Luke isn't the type of guy who respects authority figures, and it's implied that even though he was a highly decorated soldier, his anti-establishment sentiments caused him to lose all of his ranks before he got out of the military. There is no way that his imprisonment is going to end well.
Law and order in prison are maintained by Walking Boss Godfrey (Morgan Woodward), a cold and calculated warden rarely seen without his mirrored sunglasses. Without his eyes to humanize him, Boss Godfrey seems like an all-powerful figure, the god-ruler of the universe that is the prison grounds. One of his favorite activities is shooting birds with his rifle, a metaphor for his contempt for things that fly free and foreshadows future events in the film. Any minor rule infraction is punished by a night (or more) in "the box," a tiny shed where the unlucky prisoner is forced to stay with only a piss bucket as their companion. Rehabilitation isn't the goal here, only dehumanization and fear.
Luke represents this romanticized ideal of American life, which may be unachievable for many. His fellow prisoners eventually idolize him, as it seems like "the man" can't squash his rebellious nature no matter how hard they try. His spirit motivates them and reinvigorates their viewpoint on life in the penitentiary, an existence that is only filled with menial labor and repetitive tasks. The brilliant writers ensured that Luke was convicted of a petty crime, making it easier for the audience to empathize with him.
The infamous eating fifty eggs scene culminates in Luke stretching out on his back with his arms open in a Christ pose, further cementing his symbolism in the narrative and his relationship with his peers. Luke is a man who can do the impossible, and there may be hope for the rest of them too. Early on in his stay, Luke is challenged to a boxing match by Dragline (George Kennedy), the de facto leader of the inmates. Even though Luke gets the snot beat out of him and is clearly outmatched by Dragline, he keeps getting back up after getting knocked down. This earns him the admiration of his peers and illustrates Luke's indomitable spirit.
When Luke escapes later in the film and is on the outside for a while, he sends the inmates a picture of him gallivanting in a suit with two pretty ladies. This picture is treated as holy scripture, with the prisoners pouring over it, lost in daydreams. Unfortunately, Luke is apprehended, fitted with leg irons, and placed back in captivity, where he reveals that the photo is fake. There is nothing out there in the world for people like them, only forced compliance and pain.
Luke has lost his light, and the establishment senses his weakness. The warden and his cronies force Luke to dig a ditch (one that looks suspiciously like a grave) for days straight, breaking him mentally and physically until he wearily proclaims that "he has his mind right" while groveling and kissing the boots of the warden. This sequence is heartbreaking to watch, and his fellow inmates stand by in dejected horror, helpless and scared. The boot of authority will stomp on any non-conforming individuals until they comply, and there is nothing they can do to prevent it.
The contrast between romanticism and reality is reinforced by cinematographer Conrad Reed's idyllic depiction of Florida's countryside and his claustrophobic and sweaty prison interior shots. He will have the prisoners working as silhouettes in gorgeous sunset illuminated wide shot, a moment of beauty in a mundane, grueling existence. The world keeps turning even as these men are in stasis, and death and life continue.
It can be said that Cool Hand Luke is a cynical film because, at the end of it all, Luke couldn't beat the system, only escape it through death. This may be a nihilistic take on the film, but it does have a sliver of aspiration; Luke has impacted his friends, and even though he is no longer here, their memories of him prevail.
--Michelle Kisner