“Now just where am I supposed to fit in? Old Man, I gotta tell You. I started out pretty strong and fast. But it's beginning to get to me. When does it end? What do You got in mind for me? What do I do now?” - Luke
I've lost count of how many times I've watched Cool Hand Luke. For as far back as memory serves, it's been my cinematic favorite, featuring great performances by Paul Newman and George Kennedy, along with some of the most memorable lines in the history of cinema. It is a film that simultaneously speaks to the existential struggle of the authentic self, manifesting in a world from which it is rejected while also being a deeply Christian film.
For the uninitiated, Cool Hand Luke narrates the story of Luke Jackson, a man seemingly incapable of adapting to the world around him. The film opens with Luke drunkenly cutting the heads off parking meters with a pipe cutter. Arrested for this act of vandalism, he's sentenced to two years of hard time. Upon arriving at the prison, he becomes just another new inmate, facing hostility from the veteran criminals he's housed with. Initially, his rebellious nature clashes with his fellow convicts, but over time, his resilience, honesty, and refusal to give up earn their respect. Unable to cope with captivity, Luke manages multiple escapes, becoming a lackey for the guards after they try to break him and receiving the cold shoulder from other inmates once he no longer represents freedom of spirit to them. But, of course, Luke's spirit can never be chained, leading to one last escape attempt that results in his final martyrdom.
While Luke is undoubtedly an allegorical Christ-like figure (a topic I'll delve into later), he also embodies a natural contrarian. Watching the film, one gets the sense that Luke can't help trying to escape any more than a cat can help chasing mice—it's inherent to his nature. The rest of the world can put on a mask, genuflect to authorities, but for Luke, it seems impossible.
This inability to conform is something Luke is acutely aware of, portrayed vividly in scenes where he prays. He lashes out at God, questioning why he was made this way.
“Anybody here? Hey, Old Man. You home tonight? Can You spare a minute. It's about time we had a little talk. I know I'm a pretty evil fellow... killed people in the war and got drunk... and chewed up municipal property and the like. I know I got no call to ask for much... but even so, You've got to 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't never win out. Inside, outside, all of them... rules and regulations and bosses. You made me like I am. Now just where am I supposed to fit in? Old Man, I gotta tell You. I started out pretty strong and fast. But it's beginning to get to me. When does it end? What do You got in mind for me? What do I do now? Right. All right.” - Luke Jackson
His contrarian nature is almost a curse, an original sin, something he doesn't desire but carries like a burden. Again, he lashes out at God, questioning why he was made this way.
One could argue that Luke is a rebel for the sake of rebellion, and perhaps that's true; the film overtly portrays the externalism of the late 1960s. I find it more likely that Luke is simply a man who cannot live under an authority he deems illegitimate or evil. When he arrives at the prison, the other inmates, by and large, follow orders and obey the rules to avoid the warden's wrath. Luke can't comply. He pushes back, not in a violently aggressive way, but through nonviolent means of protest, making a run for it whenever possible.
In many ways, Luke stands for many of us on the Dissident Right. Like Luke, we live under a regime we perceive as illegitimate or evil, a sentiment shared by those around us. Yet, we find ourselves pushing back almost instinctively, unable to sit idly by.
Most people are content to toil anonymously under the regime's thumb, as long as they get what they need, willing to go along to get along. It's an option offered to all of us, yet we reject comfort, opting to post anonymously on Twitter, write essays on Substack, and create videos critiquing those who rule over us. We undertake these actions at great risk, endangering our jobs, livelihoods, families, and friends. Why?
Because we must. It's something inside us that won't allow us to stand by. In another time, we might have been inclined to greatness. We are men who feel the need to do something. Unlike Luke, we benefit from the Internet, flawed as it may be, allowing us to connect; we're not alone.
This connection provides a strength Luke never had. He experienced a constant state of existential crisis because he felt alone in the world. He couldn't help himself, and when asked why he did what he did, he couldn't find an answer.
We don't face that problem; we have each other. We can reach out, connect with others whose authentic selves are in constant combat with the world. There's a little bit of Luke in all of us; that's why we're here, why we do what we do. And we must accept that it is inevitable.
I often wonder, "Why can't I sit back and watch sports or engage in other activities and ignore what's happening around me? Why can't I be placated by the bread and circuses that satisfy so many others?" I think the answer is the same for me as it is for Luke, "I guess I'm pretty tough to deal with… A hard case… I guess I gotta find my own way." Perhaps it's just delusions of grandeur, but I like to think that all of us are made for something better; that's why we're here. We'd rather risk everything than sit in comfortable silence; we'd rather find our own way.
-TJS
Thank you. I had made my mind up to leave my country but now I’m going to stay and fight. I was in two minds but now I see clearly. Thank you.
I’m not sure there’s a little of Luke in everyone. My Grandad once told me “Son, the American people are like a herd of cattle. Give them their cud and you can lead them to slaughter.” He knew more about cows and people than anyone I’ve ever met.