Machismo, Clint and a Film Legacy

Upon the release of Cry Macho, a critic might be tempted to speak with finality about the career of Clint Eastwood: THIS will be his last hurrah as actor or director. But three years ago, when Eastwood starred as The Mule, surely THAT was going to be his last time in front of the camera? And at the age of 89, when Richard Jewell premiered, one might have spoken with confidence that it would be Eastwood’s last directorial effort. So, pardon me if I choose not to take the sucker’s bet and view Eastwood’s latest film as the cherry on top of a long career.

It’s 1979 in Texas and Eastwood’s Mike Milo is a worn-out rodeo star whose boss, Howard Polk, keeps him on the payroll more out of pity than necessity. Polk fires the insolent Milo and then almost immediately rehires him for a new mission: to find Polk’s 13-year-old son Rafo (playing charmingly by Eduardo Minett) and bring him back from Mexico City; away from his abusive mother Leta (Fernanda Urrejola). Dwight Yoakam, a capable actor, sleepwalks through the role of Polk, displaying little chemistry with Eastwood in the scenes they share.

When Eastwood arrives at Leta’s palatial estate, he discovers that the mother views Rafo as a “wild animal” unfit for polite society. His dad can have him, for all she cares. She then attempts to seduce the 91-year-old cowboy (the viewer here must employ the suspension of disbelief) but is rebuffed. Insulted, she changes her mind, and spends the rest of the film attempting to keep Rafo from leaving Mexico.

Eastwood finds Rafo at the cockfights with a rooster named “Macho.” He convinces him to return with him to Texas. At this point, it becomes a road trip movie, with the ever-present threat of Leta’s henchmen. It’s here that Eastwood comes alive. Or is it Milo? The actor, and the cowboy he portrays, are old men through the first quarter of the film. But as Milo and Rafo get to know each other, the squint that launched a thousand films returns: as does his voice. If you close your eyes, the raspy old man becomes the Man with No Name.

The duo find their way to a village where they are taken in by a restaurant owner named Marta (Natalia Traven). Milo spends his days teaching Rafo how to tame wild horses (the shots of the elderly Eastwood on bucking broncos are always waist-up, with long shots just long enough to not be able to make out his face). The rest of Milo’s time is spent with Marta. In a bit of wish fulfillment by the director, no woman in Mexico can resist the charms of Milo. The third act of the film forces Milo and Rafo to choose between their old lives and potential new ones.

Clint Eastwood’s career has spanned 66 years as an actor and 50 years as a director. This film is not the final cap on his career. It is a continuation of Eastwood’s long-running campaign of serious self-reflection. It began with his Oscar-winning reexamination of the Western in Unforgiven and continued with Gran Torino, where he plays what one might imagine as an elderly Dirty Harry. It further continues with Cry Macho, where Eastwood pokes at the concept of toxic masculinity, having Milo say, “This macho thing is overrated.”

Yet…

Throughout the film, one can see pieces of Eastwood’s long career, almost as if they were placed there intentionally. Milo drives a pickup truck right out of Every Which Way You Can. And this time, it’s a rooster who attacks a villain, not an orangutan. When Milo rests, he puts his hat over his eyes, just like the Man with No Name. And, of course, he’s bustin’ broncos just like he did in Bronco Billy. But no, you won’t get me to say it’s his swan song. Maybe when Cry Macho 3 comes out. Then I’ll take that bet.