I was going to get to him at some point, but MichaleenFlynn suggested that my next post be devoted to Humphrey Bogart. Bogart's is the face that launched a thousand movies and at least ten times as many would-be careers. His speech, gestures, and style have been parodied, emulated, and consecrated by directors ranging from Jean Luc Godard to Woody Allen. Turn on the TV at any point between 1960 and 1990 and chances are someone would be doing a Bogart imitation. Further, I'd argue that the lexicon of film
noir is rooted almost exclusively in the Bogart crime-movies of the 1940s, and so Bogart stands for something larger than the cinematic; he is--in his own way--the author of a cultural ethos; a code of masculinity that has long outlived him. If you want further evidence of his leading-man stature, consider the roster of his romantic counterparts: Lauren Becall, Gina Lollobrigida, Audrey Hepburn, Ingrid Bergman, Dorothy Malone.
But look at that face: the puffiness of the cheek, the gap-toothed overbite, the eyes that never do not suggest exhaustion. Certainly, the cigarettes didn't help, but his skin always seemed old even when he was young. There is nothing athletic about man--nothing that adheres to the standards of beauty that define today's leading man.
