A Lady's Lament

Where have all the Hollywood hunks gone?

BY KIMBERLEY A. STRASSEL
Friday, March 3, 2006 12:01 a.m. EST

This year I plan to conduct my own Academy Awards. And in my newly
created category of "Best Red-Blooded Male," I regret to say that I
can offer up only one nominee: King Kong.

Where have all the tough guys gone? Really, it's enough to make you
cry--that is, if all our leading men weren't already doing it for
me. From its earliest days Hollywood has had a glorious tradition
of punch-throwing, gun-toting, testosterone-oozing leading men, and
the world has loved every one of them. James Cagney, Humphrey
Bogart, Gary Cooper, John Wayne, Lee Marvin, Charles Bronson, Steve
McQueen, Sly Stallone, Mel Gibson, these were men. Some were strong
and silent, some artisans of broken noses and busted rib cages,
some villains, some heroes. But there was no doubt that they had a
reason to walk with bowed legs.

And today? These marvelous males have given way to a new generation
of Hollywood consumptives, metrosexuals if you will, the most solid
thing about whom are their perky cheekbones. Jude Law, Johnny Depp,
Orlando Bloom, Leo DiCaprio, Adrien Brody, Ashton (Ashton!)
Kutcher. I make it a general rule to withhold my regard from any
man I could bench-press on a feeble day, much less those who've
never had need of a razor. If producers are wondering why
box-office sales keep falling, they might consider that America
wants something more from its men than pouty lips and foot-long
eyelashes.

Early cinema specialized in the supermasculine sort, providers and
achievers and gangsters who were always in control. They were cool
("Here's looking at you, kid"), daring ("Made it, Ma! Top of the
world!") and cocky ("Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn"). Some
were tough through their moral rectitude; think Jimmy Stewart.
Others, like Cary Grant, made up for a lack of outright macho with
wit, class and unbelievable suits.

The 1950s brought about yet a new type of tough guy, heroes who
specialized in fighting wars, protecting the innocent and getting
the job done. They weren't "hunks" in today's sense of that word,
but they didn't need to be. They had such presence that they didn't
even need to speak. James Coburn had precisely 11 lines in "The
Magnificent Seven," including such masterpieces as "You lost" and
"Three." But if ever a Western has produced a tougher, more deadly
gun-slinger and knife-hucker than "Britt," I'd like to know. By the
1960s and '70s, these tough guys had also discovered the value of
props. Clint had his .44 Magnum. Steve had his Mustang GT 390. Sean
had his martini.

Starting about 1980, tough guys changed again. This was the
beefcake era, and the guys were maniacs. Arnold Schwarzenegger
terminated everything in sight. As near as I can figure, Mel
Gibson, via "Braveheart" and "The Patriot," single-handedly killed
off the entire English population. Sylvester Stallone sealed his
career with characters named "Rocky," "Rambo" and "Cobra," for
goodness' sake. None of this was highbrow film, but there was
something wonderful about the brute strength. Even women came to
appreciate the, ahem, upside to testosterone-flicks. I know girls
who will admit that they own "Top Gun" for the sole purpose of
watching the volleyball scene over and over.

Sadly, reruns are about all we babe-loving women have these days.
The new Hollywood man isn't noble or daring or silent or even
beefy. He emotes. He is fragile and flawed. He is a 40-year-old
virgin. He is a hobbit. Take a look at the guys who are up for
Oscar nominations, and let's go immediately to the elephant in the
room. Three--count 'em, three--are there for playing men who bat
for the other team. Yes, yes, I loved both "Brokeback Mountain" and
"Capote," but that's not the point.

Some of the older toughies are still knocking around, but it's
getting to be a bit of a geriatric ward. Stallone will be 60 this
summer. Even Denzel Washington is past 50. Eastwood is clocking in
at 76 and has (wisely) taken to playing senior citizens. My hat
goes off to Bruce Willis, who continues to churn out reliable
hard-man flicks, even if the tank tops are now gone. As for the
younger generation, I find myself grateful to Matt Damon, who had
the courage to make two old-fashioned spy thrillers (as Jason
Bourne), the first of which revitalized the concept of a car chase.
Oh, and Vin Diesel rocks.

Where is the next generation of tough guys? They're out there. They
just happen to go by the names Michelle Yeoh and Angelina Jolie.
These are our new bad boys: cool, clever and deadly with a six-foot
samurai sword. Still, call me a traditionalist; I like my heroes
with facial hair, a deep voice and bulging biceps. Which is why,
when it comes to this year's nominees for truly manly men, I'm
sticking with the ape.

Ms. Strassel is a member of The Wall Street Journal's editorial
board.
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What's your opinion? Agree with Ms. Stassel? Or is Tom Hanks more your type of hero?

Owen
coach@man2woman.net