Yeah, well... sometimes the Gospel can be a real cool book.
I'm of course referencing the 1967 classic Cool Hand Luke, one of my favorite films of all time. And, as it is often the case with me, this is a film I didn't really care for upon first viewing. Now I obviously think differently. In many ways, this is a movie made beautiful by it's simplicity. It is made visually striking by its backdrop of natural southern beauty in the US – the everlasting summer, the seemingly abandoned train tracks and the long dirt roads, almost fully deserted were it not for the prisoners working by the fields... It almost gives off the impression that there is no world beyond that road. And maybe as part of that isolation, the story doesn't shy away from grit. It is dirty, grimy and hence, it is real. Some modern movies seem to have an obsession with polishing every pixel of every frame, thus giving off a distinct sense of falsehood. The movie then becomes too colorful, too vibrant, it becomes overwhelming and almost cartoonish. So it's indeed refreshing to turn to the classics and find a movie that doesn't shy away from the dirt, the sweat, the heat... and the pain and the suffering. Yet in all that, you find meaning, and in meaning you find beauty.
The movie opens with the bizarrely funny scene of a drunk Luke cutting off the heads of parking meters, or gumball machines, according to some sources. He is arrested by shadowy police officers and his trial is wholly skipped. One can imagine Luke taking his two years in style, with that same ol' Luke smile on his face. At any rate, the next time we see him he is sitting behind the truck's fenced window, reminiscent of a confession box. Just behind him is Alibi, a mild-mannered man convicted of manslaughter, accidental, at least by his own admission, but we'll talk more about him later. The men then line up to meet the captain who gives his presumably usual speech, but Luke slightly stumps him. The captain quotes Luke's conviction of maliciously destroying municipal property while under the influence and, in his soft, tame voice adds – Hmm, we ain't never had one of them before... Where do you think that's gonna get you? Luke's accusation is then similar to Christ's who perhaps could be said to destroy the way of living of the pharisees and their unholy attachment to material things while under the influence of the Holy Spirit. Or rather, he could be said to be wanting to tear down the temple and promising to rebuild it, not in three days, but in three escape attempts.
Regarding the captain, it would be tempting to think of him as Satan, but that role seems to be reserved for the Man-With-No-Eyes. I now interpret the captain as symbolic of the world itself, especially when he says – I can be a good guy or I can be one real mean son of a bitch. It's all up to you. Thus the offer is made, and seeing as the captain appeared to be somewhat impressed by Luke's war efforts, something that Luke is ashamed of in three separate occasions, namely this one, the truck ride in which he chastises Dragline for calling him a war hero, and during the church scene when he confesses to killing men in the war, Luke could then have found himself falling into the captain's good graces. but he refuses him. He will not trade what is right for what is easy.
The new arrivals are then shown their quarters and given the standard, memorized regulations, much to Luke's boredom, which immediately catches the attention of Carr, the floorwalker. Like Jesus, Luke is very swiftly discovering that none of God's commandments remain in the world, and worse still, when he is introduced to the other prisoners, he finds himself before a cycle of hypocrisy and suffering. The bosses abuse their power and torture the prisoners, and the prisoners abuse their power against weaker, more naive prisoners. Dragline, their leader, lays down the law about something as pointless as his designated seat, which Tramp, brilliantly played by a subdued and underrated Harry Dean Stanton, unknowingly occupied. As the new meats try to make the best of it and somewhat submit to the law of the land, Luke washes his hands of that hypocrisy, and scoffs. Upon being questioned, he ironically refers to Dragline as “boss” and then adds – I ain't heard that much worth listenin' to. Just a lotta guys layin' down a lotta rules and regulations.
Additionally, during this scene, Society Red says prisoners don't have a name around there until Dragline gives them one, echoing when Jesus asked what was said of him and, despite the many rumors, Peter proclaimed him to be the Messiah. Not exactly a baptism per say, because after all, Dragline can't be Peter, a bit of Paul and some of John the Baptist. But I think it is an interesting parallel nonetheless.
Now for the aforementioned Alibi. During the prisoners first workday, Koko, supported by the rest of the gang, decides to pull a scam. He intends to sell his cushy broom job, especially on a very warm day. Tramp almost falls for it but it is Alibi who kicks a buck for the job. Thing is though, there is no job. Not only was Alibi down a buck but he also got in trouble for back-sassing boss Paul, a free man and the most intimidating of the bosses, except the Man-With-No-Eyes, that is. And for that, Alibi gets sent to the box on his very first night in prison.
Just look at that sight... There you have a man who sinned against the world, a man who took a life, and yet, being reduced to nothing, he cries like a child. Maybe that says something about punishment, about vengeance, about forgiveness. Yeah, well... whatever it does say about that I'm not ready to understand it. I do know this one thing though – Luke, sensing what was to come, worked twice as hard on the road that day, maybe not so as to pick up the slack, but perhaps so as to take on his own flesh a little bit of that man's pain. And upon entering the truck he tells Koko – You owe that fella a cold drink.
After the men commit adultery in their hearts with the lovely Lucille, Dragline decides to jokingly tempt the men even further. Luke chastises him for it and Dragline decides he has had enough of Luke. The very next scene is a boxing match between the two, only it's not much of a contest. Dragline greatly overpowers Luke, all of his punches land with full weight behind them while Luke barely fights back, or whenever he does, he mostly swings his arms meekly. The men initially love the fight, they scream and cheer like in a gladiator arena, but it soon turns sour. It's no sport, it's just a punishment, and for that reason, their expressions turn to nausea, sadness and pity. And yet, Luke carries on, he refuses to lay down. The once bloodthirsty spectators now look away and call for the fight to be stopped. Even Dragline himself orders Luke to stay down, and when Luke doesn't, Dragline just leaves, apparently forfeiting the match as a concussed Luke wobbles around. Dragline was mostly unscathed and yet, the last man standing was Luke.
I suppose the meaning of this scene is both very obvious and very strange. It is a reinterpretation of the commandment to turn the other cheek, it's this idea that suffering an injustice is always better than committing an injustice. For suffering an injustice can only harm the body and our brief earthly possessions, but to commit an injustice harms our eternal soul. That seems clear but the strangeness then comes from the fact that Luke does indeed throw punches. He could have kept his arms down and it'd be more accurate to the Gospel. But if he had done that he might have fallen into the nietzschian trap of allowing his morality to stem, not from strength, but from weakness. And the proof of it all is that it simply worked. Luke's perseverance in the fight and later on his confidence in the poker game greatly impress Dragline, who was previously so possessive of his special seat but he now willingly sits next to Luke.
But when thou art bidden, go and sit down in the lowest room; that when he that bade thee cometh, he may say unto thee, Friend, go up higher: then shalt thou have worship in the presence of them that sit at meat with thee. For whosoever exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted. – Luke 14:10-11
We then arrive at a pivotal scene, melodiously accompanied by the song Just a Closer Walk With Thee, sung by Harry Dean Stanton, whose picture I can't help but include here. Now, the scene at hand is Luke's one and only confrontation with his mother, whom he always refers to by her first name, Arletta. And the whole conversation between them is instilled with a strange sadness... They both know they won't see each other again, and Arletta even says as much. She isn't long for this world, she suffered a great deal and her desire now is almost to no longer care about things, it's to fall into pessimism and to let it overwhelm her with numbness.
You know sometimes I wish the people was like dogs, Luke. Comes a time, a day like, when the bitch just don't recognize the pups no more, so... She don't have no hopes nor love to give her pain. She just don't give a damn.
These are some powerful words and they contain a tempting thought, this urge to forgo all worries and to live in the world with no cares for the world. Luke seemingly has no good answer for it, the conversation is just whiled away with the offer of a cigarette.
– Well, things just never the way they seem, Arletta. You know that, a man's gotta go his own way.
– Guess I just gotta, gotta love you and let go. Hmm?
– Yeah, I guess.
Luke's faith stumbles from time to time but it doesn't stumble here. He willingly accepts his fate, he takes up his cross just as Arletta takes up hers. Yet his cross isn't his prison sentence and her cross isn't her own impending death. Luke's cross is his torture and death at the hands of men, Arletta's cross is the death of her own child. Arletta is thus a strikingly beautiful depiction of the Virgin Mary, and an all too human depiction of her too, one embodying an undying ideal of stoicism, the unspoken faith of the mother who brought a baby into the world only for him to one day be betrayed by the world... And then the absentee father is spoken of.
– Your old man, Luke, he wasn't much good for sticking around, but, damn it, he made me laugh!
– Yeah, I would have liked to have known him the way you talked about him.
I suppose I never knew many representations of the virgin birth but I do like this one. Though Luke's father was absent and sorta ethereal, like a spirit, doesn't it then mean that the laughter could be seen as guidance or faith or love? I don't know but I can't help but notice once again the beautiful simplicity of Cool Hand Luke, brilliantly written all throughout, even in common language. And though Luke never met his father, he was favored by his mother who never loved her other son, coincidentally named John, quite in the same way. Sometimes you just have a feelin' for a child... she says with a motherly smile on her face, and when Luke says his first goodbye, she cries out. Then when he returns for one last goodbye, after imparting a brief lesson to his nephew, Arletta hides her tears with a final smile. Like young Jesus, Luke has to go about his Father's business.
In the next scene, the men are rewarded with the task of tarring a long road. And under that sun, they will have to toil and sweat, tarring miles of road until there's no more road to tarr, which could last well into the evening. But Luke has other ideas – Yeah, well... The man wants speed, let's give it to him! So he begins to work twice as hard, he draws from within himself some kind of renewed strength and charity, a spirit so contagious that all other men are inspired to do the same. Only it don't make no sense for the bosses. As Dragline says – They don't know whether to smile, spit or swallow! So the inversion is made obvious once again, similarly to the boxing scene, here the idea is to forgo worldly suffering, to be charitable and kind, and thus proving to your enemies just how meaningless what they demand of you really is. They want the world, so Luke gives it to them, for his kingdom is not of this world.
And if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also. And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain. Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away. – Matthew 5:40-42
Next up is perhaps the most famous image in the whole movie. The men are having fun, they're all talking, sharing stories and coming up with new schemes and bets. Luke just listens as he lays down in his typical easy-going way and plays the banjo. That is until he suddenly claims to be able to eat fifty hard-boiled eggs in one hour. And behold, he does so, albeit begrudgingly and with great personal torment. But why fifty, why not a lower number, why not thirty-five, as Dragline asks? Luke says it just seemed like a nice round number but there's a bit more to it than that. Because in that prison there are fifty prisoners, an information drilled into our heads whenever Carr and the other floorwalker make the count for the night. So in effect, each egg represents the sin that got each man sent to the prison, and Luke willingly contains all of those sins within himself, and is then symbolically crucified on the table.
In the next scene, a rattlesnake runs along the roadside where the men are working and all of them shiver and avoid it, but Luke just picks it up by the tail, echoing a literal interpretation of Mark 16:18. Then the Man-With-No-Eyes shoots the creature in the head and Luke flings the corpse at him, jokingly saying the man forgot his walking stick, very reminiscent of Moses and the Pharaoh. For the second screenshot though, we have Luke's first open display of doubt. He loudly professes his disbelief, which will eventually turn even boss Keen against him, the kindest of the bosses. Luke stands in the rain and, like a madman, claims to have no fear of dying, for God can have his life whenever he wants to, similar to how Jesus knows his life belongs to the Father. And it's interesting to see how Luke's wavering faith is enough to turn the bosses further against him, taking him for a hard-case when it is them who, in their faith, break every commandment of the Gospel and then some... Woe unto you, bosses and captains, hypocrites!
Luke's wavering faith and open rebellion could not have come at a worse time, for it is then that he receives word of Arletta's death. And if the egg scene is the most famous of the movie, then this one is perhaps the most beautiful, or maybe it shares that glory with Arletta's scene. In this moment, the men hush in reverence, they give Luke his space as he seems to pray by the bed, a moment I always found to be symbolic of Matthew 26, namely Jesus' night in Gethsemane when he, bound by his human nature, feared the hour coming and asked to be relieved from it, only to then accept the Father's will... I can't help to see Luke doing something similar here as he takes up his banjo and sings a song called Plastic Jesus. This is a scene about which I can't say anything that isn't best left to be experienced for yourself, courtesy of this Paul Newman fella.
On the very next day, Luke's torments continue. Instead of being sent out to work with the other men, he is pulled aside by the captain who explains that the temptation of visiting the mother's funeral causes men to get rabbit in their blood, that is to say, they get an urge to escape. So in order to prevent that, Luke is condemned to spend the day in the box, a scene in which he finds himself completely humbled and alone... or maybe he is not alone, for a light shinneth in darkness.
The rabbit never does leave Luke's blood though. He escapes twice and twice he is captured. After the first attempt, the captain drags Luke onto a mount as a display of his mercy. Yet it is not mercy. It is as much a fake as that picture of Luke in a fancy suit, with two beautiful women at either side.
– You gonna get used to wearing them chains after a while, Luke. But you never stop listening to them clinking. But they gonna remind you of what I've been saying... for your own good.
– I wish you'd stop being so good to me, captain.
The captain's mercy is all false, it's a faustian bargain. To take him up on his offer would be surrendering to the world. That's why Luke refuses him which causes the captain to lose his cool for the first and only time. His blood boils and he strikes Luke, causing him to roll down the hill. Spare the rod, spoil the Cool Hand Luke... What happened to the world that made men who consider themselves faithful and righteous completely forget to turn the other cheek? Yet, to the captain such a thing is no more than a failure to communicate.
After the second escape attempt, Luke is again sent to the box to be tortured and starved. But when he is released, just in time for dinner, he feels nauseous and incapable to eat. Just one of the many funny things about human suffering, I guess... But Dog Boy, still upset over the death of Blue, his favorite dog who died chasing Luke, fills up Luke's plate with three times the usual amount, mocking him with the threat that, should he not clear his plate, he buys himself another night in the box. And it's when the prisoners see that Luke cannot eat much of it that they each take a spoonful from his plate, helping him clear it. So then we have an instance of Last Supper symbolism whereby each man metaphorically eats of Luke's body, despite him previously rebuking them in a moment of despair, and telling them to stop feeding off of him.
Luke is now at his lowest point. He is repeatedly abused and tortured, mostly physically but now psychologically as well. After a grueling day on the road, he is told by boss Paul to dig a hole in the yard. Then he is told by boss Shorty to cover the hole, then he is told by boss Paul to dig the hole yet again. The men eagerly watch as Tramp sings a song of encouragement titled Ain't No Grave. They hope Luke carries on, they hope he has the strength to keep on turning the other cheek, the strength to give away his coat and his cloak, the strength to go two miles... But he doesn't. The exhaustion is too much, and not only that, but being forced to perform such a meaningless task is a whole new kind of mockery and humiliation. It's all just too much. So Luke collapses inside the hole, having metaphorically dug his own grave. In his despair he cries out to God, his time of need finally drawing some faith out from him. It is yet another Gethsemane moment, for the cup will indeed pass. But for now he surrenders and is ironically called “son” by the captain...
Luke then becomes fully loyal and obedient to the bosses. He fetches water, he fetches the Man-With-No-Eyes' rifle and cheerfully praises his skills when he shoots a defenseless turtle. The men look at him with a blend of shock, pity and scorn, especially Koko who, having lost faith in Luke after seeing him bend, previously tore up the magazine picture of Luke with the two angelic women, and flicked his cigarette at Luke's legs when he walked on by. But whatever had to happen, happened. In a moment of madness, Luke steals a truck and drives away, with Dragline hopping on as the truck gained speed. So the two friends are on the run, with Luke being on his third and last attempt. Night falls and Dragline comes up with a plan of hiding themselves away in a farm, but Luke refuses him by saying – I done enough world-shakin' for a while. You do the rest of it for me. In essence, Luke is transferring unto Dragline his own way of life, handing him the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Because where Luke is going, Dragline can't follow, not yet... Luke then runs off only to find himself in a church, asking if his “old man” is home.
I know I'm a pretty evil fella... Killed people in the war... I got drunk and chewed up municipal property and the like. I know I got no call to ask for much but even so you gotta admit you ain't dealt me no cards in a long time... It's beginning to look like you got things fixed so I can never win out... Inside, outside, all them rules and regulations and bosses... You made me like I am. And just where am I supposed to fit in?... Old man, I gotta tell ya, I started off pretty strong and fast. But it's beginning to get to me...
Luke is tired. There are no more teachings, no more escapes, no more back-sass, no more luck. He's been running for too long and been hit too hard. And even if he wasn't too tired to run, he's now completely surrounded. That's when Dragline comes in with an offer – they give up peacefully, they surrender to the bosses, and there will be no punishment.
But he turned, and said unto Peter, Get thee behind me, Satan: thou art an offence unto me: for thou savourest not the things that be of God, but those that be of men. – Matthew 16:23
Luke's refusal of Dragline's offer comes in his own Luke kind of way. He knows there's no going back, the cup must pass through him, he simply can't run anymore, the hour is upon him. He cannot go back to the world, indeed, in typical John 16:33 fashion, he must overcome the world... So he goes to the window, throws the captain's “failure to communicate” line back at him and is unceremoniously shot by the Man-With-No-Eyes. Then he is to be taken to the prison hospital but he will either die on the road or he's already dead, despite still smiling that ol' Luke smile...
Then we have our answer. Luke died, and yet, everyone is happy... Dragline sits on the side of the road with the men all huddled around him, all eager to hear the tale of Luke's last escape and death. But for some reason, they cheer it... Luke refused the world and his refusal caused the world to hate him. But his followers will not hate the world in return, they will not turn to vengeance. They will instead spread the word, they will cherish Luke's teachings and his way of life as a source of guidance and comfort, all throughout their tortured lives. Dragline finally becomes Peter and preaches unto all his disciples. Even Dog Boy and boss Paul, both enemies of Luke, seem to draw near. Even if Dog Boy's smile is that of scorn maybe it's just because it's not his time yet, and maybe boss Paul will one day be asked why did he persecute Luke.
And in the very last shot of the film, Luke is metaphorically risen unto heaven as we see the picture has been restored, though it was left with tear marks in the shape of a cross which mirrors the cross in the road. As to why he is risen with two angels when perhaps two thieves would have been more appropriate, that I do not know. I suppose that's just Dragline's very own way of telling this gospel.
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