A real life Hero
In the realm of male movie stars, there have always been two categories: romantic leading men, and what we’ll call every men.
Leading men get the ladies, and in fact, often have to fight them off. They represent a fantasy of who we’d like to be — or at least resemble. Most of these actors are forced to play to their per-defined image, and the challenge is to make that sameness appear fresh and interesting with every picture. Think George Clooney, Paul Newman, or Cary Grant.
Every-men stars may also get the ladies, but they usually have to work harder at it. They reflect us more as we actually are — uncertain, awkward, caught in the maelstrom of life and not always winning without a fight. They tend to be allowed a bit more more range in their portrayals.
Think Tom Hanks, Jack Lemmon, or James Stewart.
Jimmy Stewart was the ultimate every-man, I think. A Princeton graduate, he bore no resemblance to the romantic, upper crust Scott Fitzgerald prototype. Quite simply, he came off as a regular guy.
A right-wing super-patriot throughout his life, he was never too vocal to cause a stir. (When he and his left-leaning friend Henry Fonda got into fisticuffs over a political argument in the forties, on making up they vowed never to talk politics again.)
Though he was a decorated pilot in World War II who flew bombing missions over Germany, this tall, gangly actor did not look much like a hero, and he rarely spoke about the war. A supporter of the Vietnam conflict and a Brigadier General in the Reserve forces until the late sixties, he visited Indochina but wanted no publicity attached to it. He viewed all this as a separate and private part of his life.
His characters on-screen combined humanity with a homespun, quintessentially American quality, and in most of his best roles, he played fundamentally decent men who find themselves either at a disadvantage, transformed by tragedy, or just facing big trouble.
Stewart’s innate capacity to project a sympathetic, universal vulnerability, and when called upon, the strength of ordinary men doing extraordinary things, made him an actor we could all hold to our hearts — and did.
Jimmy Stewart's
10 Greatest Films
In the realm of male movie stars, there have always been two categories: romantic leading men, and what we’ll call every men.
Leading men get the ladies, and in fact, often have to fight them off. They represent a fantasy of who we’d like to be — or at least resemble. Most of these actors are forced to play to their per-defined image, and the challenge is to make that sameness appear fresh and interesting with every picture. Think George Clooney, Paul Newman, or Cary Grant.
Every-men stars may also get the ladies, but they usually have to work harder at it. They reflect us more as we actually are — uncertain, awkward, caught in the maelstrom of life and not always winning without a fight. They tend to be allowed a bit more more range in their portrayals.
Think Tom Hanks, Jack Lemmon, or James Stewart.
Jimmy Stewart was the ultimate every-man, I think. A Princeton graduate, he bore no resemblance to the romantic, upper crust Scott Fitzgerald prototype. Quite simply, he came off as a regular guy.
A right-wing super-patriot throughout his life, he was never too vocal to cause a stir. (When he and his left-leaning friend Henry Fonda got into fisticuffs over a political argument in the forties, on making up they vowed never to talk politics again.)
Though he was a decorated pilot in World War II who flew bombing missions over Germany, this tall, gangly actor did not look much like a hero, and he rarely spoke about the war. A supporter of the Vietnam conflict and a Brigadier General in the Reserve forces until the late sixties, he visited Indochina but wanted no publicity attached to it. He viewed all this as a separate and private part of his life.
His characters on-screen combined humanity with a homespun, quintessentially American quality, and in most of his best roles, he played fundamentally decent men who find themselves either at a disadvantage, transformed by tragedy, or just facing big trouble.
Stewart’s innate capacity to project a sympathetic, universal vulnerability, and when called upon, the strength of ordinary men doing extraordinary things, made him an actor we could all hold to our hearts — and did.
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