I Ain't Much Of A Lover Boy

In response to the reading for "Soft masculinity: Bewildered Men":

No end of material has been written about the post-war American male: how destabilized and emasculated he is. I feel, though, that the progression of identity for the post-war American male is similar to -- if not exactly like -- the same evolution he suffered through as an adolescent.

Rebel Without A Cause, A Streetcar Named Desire -- any movie coming out after WWII and featuring a Method man also includes an angry youth. Displaced, unsure, he represents the post-war American male. He is angry, much like an early teenager: acting out, unsure on himself, in need of Judy Blume.

Flash forward twenty-odd years in his cinematic reputation, a few in this teenager's actual life. Calmer, more mature, he still suffers from identity crises and the effects of emasculation ... but he is less angry about it. More contemplative, less exterior, this is Bonnie and Clyde, Last Tango in Paris (featuring the same Method man as Streetcar).

It seems as though once lost, "masculinity" in its purest, simplest -- and perhaps most untruthful -- sense, can never be regained. At least that's what cinema tells us. Though the stars of and Rebel and Streetcar are masculine, they are not men: wild, out of control, without societal approval ... they may be appealing, but they are not the ideal (James Dean sealed the deal by making them into cautionary tales rather than heroes). Bonnie and Last Tango obviously deal with men reconciling their feminine sides, and today ... Michael Cera is a money-maker.

Clearly, masculinity has still been in crisis since 1945 on. But what I'm trying to say is essentially what Bozzola is in her writing on Warren Beatty: "the usual binary arrangement of sexual roles is broken down". In the period following the post-war era, the '60s and '70s, mainly. I don't know whether this is acceptance of fragmented identity (cool) or a giving up on ever trying to find a true self again (not so much), but the men in those movies seem to be destabilized, emasculated ... and ok with that. Not happy about, but ok with it. It is a constant presence in their lives, which leads them to lead destructive ones, but the anger and fire present in so many earlier films is just not there.

In arguably Beatty's greatest -- at least most famous -- role, he is Clyde Barrow. A bisexual in real life, Beatty (who had almost complete control over this film, so it really was his choice) played him impotent -- clearly not a feature of a masculine man, and in fact the greatest threat to the gender.

The film ultimately reconcils this impotency in a way that reinforces conventional values -- it is not until Clyde truly loves Bonnie and expresses this that he is able to get it up (his impotency is overcome) -- but this is still a characteristic surprising.

Either Beatty is alarmingly secure or crippilingly unsure ... to be with that many women, you have to be one or the other. Say it is the former, though, as his demeanour leads us to believe (although if Cary Grant teaches us anything ...). Perhaps it is this comfortableness, and previous screen performances as macho men, that allows him the security to play so against gender.

Questions for the class:
1) Post-war, is "masculinity" lost forever?
2) Did the wars truly create conditions that so undermined gender expectations, or did they simply reveal a truth that was already there (is "masculinity" as pure, simple, and natural as it is referred to pre-war a myth?)
3) Why would an actor so associated with masculinity play a role so anti-gender? Personal reasons -- escaping type -- or something more?