The real deal


Watched an old Hitchcock movie last night. Marnie is not one of his classics, but I was interested in seeing it again pretty much because of Sean Connery.

Sean Connery is one of my favourite ever actors, and not just because he’s the best 007. There’s a lot’s of reasons he became a star, but for me what set him apart from just about everybody else is his style. He was always good looking, and had the build to go with it, but so do plenty. What made him different was a kind of sardonic masculinity. Good looking as he was there was something cruel in his good looks. With the curl of the lip he could express contempt, disdain, arrogance. Often it was backed up with some physical expression of that as he took on the baddies and and knocked them over, no matter the odds. With a great speaking voice he was also a natural at the cool wit that was generally written for him. Often he would deliver his lines with the curl of the lip and a knowing look in the eye as if sharing a joke with the audience. Put him in a tuxedo and he looked born to it; shove him in an action role and he was a natural. He performed with a masculine ease that lifted him off the screen, and the self-possession that intimidates lesser men – on screen and off. Somehow you always figured he wouldn’t be much different off screen, the real deal.

I reckon there’s a lot of men who looked upon him as a kind of model of masculinity. I’m the same to a degree. I watch him, even in lesser roles such as last night, and just enjoy how he goes about it. He has that dominant attribute which you watch as a bloke and think, yep, that’s how it should be. The other month someone threw up Steve McQueen as a paragon of lost male masculinity, and good call it was too. Connery is another I reckon, from another the same era. Fewer around these days like them.

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