HISTORY LESSON: Man Enough? Part 1 - The Silents

In order to save his love interest (Virginia Cherrill) in City Lights, Chaplin has
to put up his dukes and "be a man."

While a lot of focus is given to interpreting the repression and liberation of women in film, that of the male archetype seems to be less thoroughly examined, at least in terms the facets of masculinity as reflections of/on society. The reason for this could very well be the lazy perception that "a man, is a man, is a man," which is a theory many may humorously, and perhaps correctly (to a certain extent), agree with. It is not the "male mystique" that continues to plague and baffle the opposite sex, yet this does not mean that the more "predictable" sex is any less complicated and nuanced than his fairer opposite. As such, his presentation on the silver screen and its metamorphosis over the years creates quite a broad portrait of just what it means to be a man. What makes a good man? A bad man? An attractive man? And what on earth is masculinity? Are the depictions of the different shades of the complex male conundrum-- the lover, the fighter, the cave man, the villain, the hero-- influenced by or influential of contemporary society? Probably a little bit of both.

Eugene Sandow gives good bicep in an early silent clip. A famous
Austrian body builder, he was Schwarzenegger before anyone
knew what a Schwarzenegger was.

During the initial stages of silent cinema, men were, quite simply, just men. They weren't polished, they weren't pristine, they weren't products. They weren't, in fact, even acting. The more studied performers of the stage rebuffed the hackneyed gimmick of the "motion picture" as it groped its fledgling way into a fully grown, full-fledged business. Thus, the gratuitous appeal of the original flicker shows, which portrayed human beings naturally, as they really were, whether the image of the man projected was sneezing, boxing, flexing his muscles, or kissing May Irwin, was the documentary style of the medium. It was simple: point and shoot. Then, point and shoot with costumes on. The storytellers on the screen were regular guys looking for work. As movies became shorts, which became features, as 1 reel lengthened to 8, as plot lines became more complicated, so too did the requirements of the leading men become more intricate. Trained actors, who had performed on the stage and in vaudeville, soon began migrating toward the cinema, less to achieve fame-- as it didn't exist yet-- then to make ends meet and take the jobs that their contemporaries still poo-pooed. Many were innovators that saw the potential others overlooked, and some were merely wooed by the opportunity its opportunists. As a result, some of the great personalities of the 20th century would present themselves on the silver screen-- Chaplin, Keaton, Chaney, Fairbanks, Reid-- and the words "movie star" would be born. 

The interesting thing about these personalities is that, while they were better trained than the initial rookie actors of cinematic minor leagues, they were still fairly regular guys, the prettiest of them belonging to the Wallace Reid (left) variety, who with his boyish good looks and overgrown child charms was both the son and lover to his leading ladies. He and Douglas Fairbanks both presented a masculine archetype that was bristling with the energy of immaturity-- Wally with his speed racing, and Doug with his nonchalant embrace of danger. In these cases, the women and romantic interests were always secondary to the major action within the story, with both men more invested in being "wild and wooly" than responsible. Meanwhile, the leading ladies performing opposite them tried their best to domesticate them, all while accepting that they never really could. "Boys will be boys..." Wally was, admittedly, much more sexual, which is why he could easily vacillate between the daredevil driver of  The Roaring Road and the smitten love interest of The Golden Chance with ease.

Doug defends all of mankind's honor with the mightiest of phalluses,
his saber! (The Black Pirate)

Doug was never "in it" for love. Ever. His heroes, like D'Artagnan of The Three Musketeers and his Robin Hood were more enthralled with the opportunity for adventure than the sentimental pull of romance. Therefore, as an unspoken "hit 'em and quit 'em type"-- however optimistically he portrayed himself-- he wasn't about putting down roots but exploring man's liberty. The message both figures presented was that men weren't meant to be chained. They must be able to exercise their need for freedom. Women just had to be ready to catch them when they wore themselves out. Most of their stories possessed a wink at the female audience of, "Yeah, we don't need you, but we really do." The little lady in an apron was always the true brains behind the operation, running the man's life, all while he thought he was indeed running wild. This perpetuated the paternal society's definitions of gender roles within a marriage: women, keep the home fires burning, men... burn rubber!

Gilbert succumbs to the succubus, Garbo, in
Flesh and the Devil.

This isn't to say that there were no men with emotive eloquence. Two Romeos with such all consuming passion were John Gilbert and Rudolph Valentino, both of whom were inhumanly handsome and intensely virile. While inheriting in some ways the fairly adolescent charisma of the aforementioned brand of man-boy, the inciting incident in their lover storylines was not that which would attract them to adventure or the fight of good over evil. The inciting incident was the appearance of Eve in their Edens. Whatever extraneous business was happening otherwise was pure background noise. Each man followed only the beating of his heart, or perhaps better yet, the compulsion of his loins. These guys were victims to their passion. However selfishly they may have behaved in the past, meeting the girl was enough to instantly change them from selfish boys to helpless fools for love, and consequently drive them insane with desire. Gilbert was most memorably paired with Garbo in his romantic career. His intoxicated devotion to her, which nearly destroyed him every time (and sometimes did), portrayed for women the man of their dreams. He gave his undivided attention to his muse, for whom he would do anything, and he would not rest until he possessed her. This was enough to leave ladies fanning themselves in their seats, if not passing out in the aisles. 

Interestingly, it was Garbo who usually suffered in the end (at least in the silent era), being punished for her erotic witchcraft in Flesh and Love, for example. After escaping the soul-sucking power of the vamp, who sought only to bleed a man dry of his potent juices, the man was supposed to reclaim his soul, embrace his manhood, curse the bitch, and settle into a relationship that would place him back in a position of power. Gilbert's characters, therefore, would find solace in more dependable women who would be faithful, loyal, and submissive, and also allow him to peaceably engage in the boyish hijink's he'd temporarily forgotten while under the spell of forbidden sex. Though, it should be noted, that when Gilbert fell for a "good girl," such as Eleanor Boardman's heroine in Bardelys the Magnificent, the romance was indeed consummated. His more worldly character having already certainly experienced the ego and heart bruising of a Garbo-like woman in the past, this guy was out for an innocent wife to protect with his well-situated manliness. He had come of age before the storyline started.

Valentino's gents were very similar in their romantic addictions. Rudy had no problem becoming the putty in the hands of Alla Nazimova's Camille or Nita Naldi's vamp in Blood and Sand. The same action ensued, with the woman generally paying the price for her forbidden, unbridled sexual nature, and the man reasserting his final dominance, either shaming her in Camille's case or foolishly allowing himself to be destroyed in the vamp case, the latter being a lesson to all men. However, Valentino's heroes possessed more danger than Gilbert's. The is partially due to the scintillating allure of the foreigner-- xenophoberotica?-- and his animalistic assertion over his prey. In both Sheik films, Rudy shamelessly kidnaps Agnes Ayres and Vilma Banky until they accept their stations as his sex slaves, with him resorting to what can only be described as rape in the second film, Son of the Sheik (see right). Naturally, he feels bad for his carnal crimes afterward and learns his lesson, thereby clinging the soiled woman to his muscled chest-- again, the "good girl"-- and reforming himself into a more civilized man (undoing his foreignness) in the process. With his dark(er), Italian appeal, he also offered more fantasy, as Rudy wasn't a real American but a strange figure from a strange land. His heroes could be tamed but not domesticated, and after his capture of chosen female, it is assumed that he would take her to a fantasy world of happily monogamous "ever afters" and over-sexed oblivion. In whichever case, the macho man had to conquer to become the King of his own identity. He must be a slave to no one and the ultimate one in charge. This begets the plague of the necessarily more submissive female. 

Keaton battles the elements in Steamboat Bill, Jr.

In truth, the only true lovers of the silent era came from the fools and clowns-- sometimes literally. When looking at the selfless devotion of Chaplin or the innocent but maladministered and attracted pursuit of Keaton, one witnesses some of the greatest examples of romance in all of cinema, period. The Tramp would send himself into further despair, isolation, or poverty to rescue the woman he loved from even minor devastation (The Circus, City Lights), while Keaton's many lovable but bumbling wooers would do anything to impress a potential bride only to fail-- as in his refused enlistment in the army in The General. Neither was reaching for the moon. They just wanted nice girls to settle down with and have an ordinary life. They also always had competition: bigger men, stronger men, better looking men, and richer men. The Tramp was undeserving, because he was poor; Keaton, because he wasn't macho. The latter would only accidentally become a worthy hero when presented with the challenges of extreme circumstances, be they wartime, weather affected, or even hallucinatory. The notion was that these men were, indeed, good guys. But good guys rarely get the girl, which is why the majority of the time, these two did nothing but suffer. The image of the man as the strong provider and savior still continues to be the divisive factor in what makes a man a man. 

Chaplin continues his voyage as the loner, lovelorn loser in
The Circus-- a telling title.

Unlike Fatty Arbuckle, who was able to win the day almost totally due to his imposing size and the clever swiftness of his actions and schemes, he was a bit of the selfish prankster that Fairbank and Reid represented but in the comic genre. Contrastingly, Chaplin and Keaton were diminutive, sensitive, emotionally aware, but mostly uncomfortable with themselves. Confidence is key, and they guys didn't have it. Thus, Chaplin's victory was primarily only ever the reward of selfless love-- sending the girl of his dreams off to live with the man of hers-- while Keaton was more often allowed to end in wedded bliss because, despite his size and social ignorance, he was able to prove his masculinity through his unbelievable, life-saving acts of prowess. He had thus earned his place in man-dom. Chaplin's silent hero never received applause for the secret aid he gave to his lovers in need. These comic gems were the underdogs of society, who thus gave such equally aching, hidden Lotharios a voice. However, they were still the butt of their own jokes; not real men, but men in training. They weren't what any woman was looking for, and furthermore, they were holding the steam engine of the growing American powerhouse back by begging on street corners instead of getting "real jobs." In a capitalist society, one who isn't chasing coin or engaging in the game of business is looked upon as a chump, just another sad cog in the wheel of the money machine. Invisible heroes aren't heroes.

Lon Chaney also belongs in this category, which is further complicated by identifying these ardent, bleeding heart lovers as a fools simply for loving at all. Chaney's twisted, heartbroken soldiers were literal mutations of the male sex. The fact that he wore love on his sleeve made him a monster. "This is not what a man is supposed to be," his movies unconsciously seemed to say. This too is why he is constantly left loveless by the final reels. The Phantom of the Opera is, forgive me, "cock-blocked" by Norman Kerry's more virile Raoul when vying for Christine (Mary Philbin). The Hunchback of Notre Dame is, again, intercepted by Kerry's Phoebus when vying for the heart of Esmerelda (Patsy Ruth Miller). Even when not physically misshapen, Chaney's desire and pure-hearted emotion for the women he desired sealed his fate as one who would forever do without such love's return. His obsession with Joan Crawford in The Unknown leads him to mutilate himself. His devious fixation in The Unholy Three, his love for Mae Busch/Lila Leed, is why he fails in his caper and is punished for his crimes. He is crippled by and in love in The Shock, West of Zanzibar (left), and The Penalty. He is a dunce in love in The Trap and Mockery. And, just as Chaplin, his selflessness goes unrewarded with loneliness in Tell It to the Marines and While the City Sleeps.

Chaney's depiction of the ultimate man's man in Tell It to the Marines is
pretty much the definitive portrait of masculinity. Hard-broiled, weather-
worn, and built of discipline and duty, he is the man all new enlistees
are meant to emulate. His one error is the depth and honesty of his feelings,
which is why he loses the girl to the less emotionally and more erotically
focused William Haines (boy-man). His heart is read as a flaw, yet his 
surrendering of it in the end makes him a hero. Real men don't fall for 
that love stuff. They get the job done.

The absolute torment of bearing such a full, martyred heart, one so desperate to love, made Lon's heroes immediate victims. When playing a purely sexual avenger in Victory or The Wicked Darling, he still didn't get the girl, but he represented more fully the man's man that could at least get a tramp and could make it in society, even if by the skin of his corrupt teeth. His predators with their ulterior motives and potent sex drives spoke to the beast in male viewers. He was their dark side, something immediately relatable, just as in his opposing roles he represented their good side-- strangely an even darker, dirtier secret. In either case, as the extreme in both contrasting levels of the internal, male, emotional world, he rarely walked away the winner-- literally and figuratively. His sinister villains had to be destroyed for the sake of order in society as well as in the protection of virginal women, and his hideous poets had to be eliminated in some fashion so that the virgins could be defiled by more righteous men-- less emotive, good looking, and not from the dregs of society. 

Thomas Meighan as the bored husband in Why Change Your Wife?

Perhaps the best representative of the silent movie, "regular" man would be Thomas Meighan. Handsome but not pretty, masculine but not action oriented, his characters were generally average guys, which is to say that they held down jobs, were crossed and sometimes victorious in love, and were composites of flaws and virtues. He was sexual and desirous of love but not overly emotive about it. He had feelings, but he played them close to his chest. He may have started out a con man in The Miracle Man, but he cleaned up his act and went straight by the end. When watching his performance in Male and Female, we see that he is indeed a man of character with both primal and romantic desires-- directed at Gloria Swanson-- but these qualities are only exhibited after the characters are stranded on a desert isle, and he is allowed to indulge his instincts without fear of social scrutiny. When he returns to life, so too do these instincts become buttoned up and forgotten. A real man knows how to walk a straight line, keep his romance a secret, keep sex in the bedroom, and pay his taxes. The sturdy and reliable Meighan, in all the varieties of his characterizations, provided such a portrait, still while allowing light to be cast on different aspects of man's character that the actual average man would never have allowed to be seen.

Love's a gag, something that Fatty Arbuckle showcased best-- here
alongside constant co-star Marbel Normand in Fatty's Married Life.
Fatty cared for his women, but womanhood was something he
generally had to put up with while out getting into more interesting 
trouble or making it. Marriage is a drag, but the ball and chain was
never going to stop Fatty from being Fatty!

These actors were favorites during the silent era for all that they represented, whether their stories made them winners or losers. The interesting thing to note is how intrinsically different they were from one another. No two were the same. Each had his own fashion, his own style, his own art, and each depicted his own version of masculinity, even while all portrayals may have eventually led society down the same path of acceptable male behavior-- the best version of his gender. Perhaps because screen identities were not yet firmly established, ergo there were no cliches or gender staples to adhere to, men were allowed to step before the camera in all shapes and sizes, modes and behaviors. The early days were an incredibly diverse and liberating era for the actor/performer, and viewers were consequently introduced to a wide array of talents and depictions of what it then meant to be a man in contemporary America. While the thread of necessary male dominance always held sway, never again would the characters in the male tapestry be as mixed nor as interesting as in the silent period. At the time, it would have been more fitting to say, a man is a man in any way he can...

To Be Continued in The Studio era and Method to Modern Times...

NOW, THAT'S FUNNY: Animal Edition

Gloria Grahame and an elephant friend in The Greatest Show on Earth.

Cecil B. DeMille was a great animal lover. With a deep appreciation for mother nature and all of its inhabitants, it is no wonder that he filled so many of his films with a hodgepodge of creatures. Whether feeding the deer at his beloved "Paradise" or marveling at the beauty and surprising elegance of the elephants in The Sign of the Cross and The Greatest Show on Earth, CB was always in touch with his "wild" side. However, not everyone had the great adoration for animals that Cecil did, which has inspired the following humorous human vs. animal tales:

Male and Female was all about nature: human nature at is most animalistic and survivalistic, (with a little sex, of course). For this reason, when it came time to shoot his lavish fantasy sequence with Thomas Meighan (right) and Gloria Swanson, DeMille was determined to make things as natural and authentic as possible. One scene required the imagined King (Thomas) to subjugate the femme fatale (Gloria). To accentuate this act, DeMille wanted to use a large cat to imply Tom's great and brutal machismo, i.e: He wanted a live leopard slung over Tom's shoulder. (Pause for Tom's gulp). Meighan was not exactly ecstatic about this idea, especially as he watched the animal handlers unsuccessfully trying to knock the cat out with chloroform in order to make such a stunt possible. After witnessing the enormous cat hiss and growl for some time, the pacing inside its cage suddenly stopped. (Did I mention that the animal had been scheduled for extermination because it had already killed a man? CB chose to let it live and sick it on his actor instead). Shaking, with beads of sweat running down his temples, Tom obligingly slung the cat over his shoulder and went through his scene. However, before he was through with his actions, he felt the leopard stirring. Certain that he was about to be maimed, it took every ounce of control for him to get through the next few seconds without dropping the leopard and high-tailing it out of there! However, he pulled through. When he communicated his fears to DeMille he received little sympathy. In his own macho way, DeMille surely responded with something akin to, "What's the big deal? Are you a man or a mouse?!"

Gloria and a dangerous prop: the jury is still out on who is 

truly the more dangerous...

Gloria Swanson was also on the receiving end of CB's outlandish animal requests. For her part in the film, she was to enter the lion's den. Literally. Cecil was intent on getting a shot of her lying on the ground with a lion's paw on her back. Gloria's eyes bulged but she was a tough cookie, plus CB indulged in a little bribery to get her to cooperate. Thus, Gloria found herself on her stomach with nothing separating her from the dangerous beast but a piece of canvas. When the lion roared, she would later recall feeling its vibrations through every inch of her body. Yet, she remained cool as a cucumber and believably dead. After the quick shot, Gloria arose with dignity and suddenly found herself in tears, the stress of the situation finally coming to the surface. CB was proud of his "young fellow," finding her more manly than her male co-star, Thomas. He kidded her with a, "Thank goodness. At last a woman!" To repay her, he offered her a choice from his famous bag of gems: Gloria proudly selected a gold evening bag with an emerald clasp. Her pain had been worth every penny.

Claudette Colbert (left) was another favorite leading lady of DeMille's, even if he found her to be overly diva-ish at times. At the end of the day, she got the job done and took direction well. CB hoped to use her good qualities to overcome the bad  when it came time to shoot her death scene in Cleopatra. The old legend had it, of course, that the Egyptian Queen died by holding an asp to her breast, letting its fangs infect her with venom. Sultry and sexy, Claudette was; reptile friendly, she was not. For this reason, CB knew he would have to concoct some sort of plan to get her to actually hold the snake in her hands. So, he brought in the largest king snake that he could find. When Claudette saw it, she had the appropriate reaction. Panicking, she refused! "No, no! I won't do it!! Please, no!" With that, Cecil shrugged and pulled out a much tinier snake-- the one he had actually intended to use for the scene. Claudette's fear dissolved as she observed her slender partner: "Why, he's just a baby!" No longer afraid, and feeling a bit maternal toward the little guy, Claudette was ready for her close-up. Her performance went off with out a hitch, and once again, DeMille got his way.

Mabel Normand also had an encounter with a rather large feline when filming her big comedy hit The Extra Girl (right). One of the most hilarious sequences of the film is when Mabel's wannabe movie starlet is stalked behind the scenes by an escaped Lion. On camera, her facial expressions and prat falls in avoiding the large beast are hilarious... Behind the scenes, things weren't quite as funny. Certainly, Mabel was a little apprehensive about leading the large lion around on a leash-- a gag used to get laughs, due to the fact that Mabel's character thought she was walking a dog. Being a what-the-hell kind of gal, Mabel went for it anyway. She was assured that her safety was being looked after by director F. Richard Jones, whose feeble attempt at protection was having a pitchfork at the ready. Unfortunately, at one point, Jones accidentally tripped and scared the lion, who sprang into the air. Mabel, stunned, fell flat to the ground, only to find the pitchfork in her own rear end! The lion, on the other hand, was unharmed.

One of the most popular animals in movie history, aside from dogs and horses, is perhaps the monkey. Many celebs have had a little face time with a chimp-- such as Lon Chaney in West of Zanzibar or Cary Grant in, of course, Monkey Business. As always, it's not all fun and games, as Kathryn Grayson (left) could attest. While shooting on Show Boat, the lovely soprano was surprised when a primate got a little primeval on her. One day, a marmoset monkey got a little antsy and, out of fear, started attacking everyone in sight. After it bit both its trainer and a prop man, Kathryn too had a piece taken out of her arm! Her squeal probably surpassed any high notes she had previously sung. Co-star Ava Gardner got the worst of it when the monkey scratched her breast in the middle of a publicity photo. So much for looking sexy!

Veronica Lake too had an ill-fated meeting with a monkey. While working on Sullivan's Travels (w/ Joel McCrea, right), her set was next-door to a Dorothy Lamour picture, which was currently employing a monkey named "Jiggs." Adorned in her tramp wardrobe, Veronica sat relaxing in between scenes when she felt something grab her hand. Jiggs had appeared out of nowhere and nonchalantly proceeded to put Ronni's hand in his mouth and bite-- not hard, but hard enough! Veronica froze, uncertain what to do and afraid of angering the precocious  creature. Preston Sturges saw the happenings, and after getting a good kick out of her plight, found the monkey's trainer who relieved the pregnant Veronica from her unease. The trainer assured her that, despite her discomfort, Jiggs had simply been showing her that he liked her. This was supposedly a miracle, since Jiggs didn't take to women-- a fact that the constantly scratched and bitten Dorothy Lamour could easily attest to. 

Carl Switzer (left) would often come into contact with animals during the filming of the Our Gang series. Take accident-prone children and throw in some quadrupeds and you've got yourself a pretty good shot at comedy. However, there was a mammalian charade that did not end humorously. One production had it scripted that little Carl was to be bitten by a bear. The actual animal was brought in, but Carl refused to even get close to it. The director asked him to inch his face in to the bear's mouth, but Carl simply shook his head in nervous protest. The trainer then stepped in to offer his help. Assuring Carl that the animal was harmless and actually quite gentle, he demonstrated the director's instructions by moving his face toward the bear's mouth. Now, this ISN'T funny. The bear suddenly made an out of character move and sank his jaws onto his trainer's face, biting his cheek right off. I guess sometimes kids are smarter than adults...

Bruce Willis finally meets his match.

To end, there is a contemporary story worth chuckling over. Tony Scott was excited to be working with the famous and charismatic action hero Bruce Willis on his 1991 film The Last Boy Scout. However, after a great start, he was a little perturbed when Bruce arrived to work several hours late their second day of shooting. When Tony pressed him for a reason, Bruce comically had to relay an embarrassing story. It turned out that the cleaning crew had left his trailer door open the night before and a cat got in. Curious as cats tend to be, this one located Bruce's cherished hair piece hanging on the wall and got a little... frisky. Thus, Bruce explained, he was late because the cat had been humping his hairpiece. After all, a leading man needs his hair. Me-ow.

STAR OF THE MONTH: Rudolph Valentino

Rodolfo, Rodolfo... Would "Valentino" by any other name have smelled so sweet? "Guglielmi" doesn't have quite as nice a ring to it, but that most beloved of all silver screen faces still retains his dear perfection nonetheless. Pardon the poetic waxings, but that is the Valentino effect, isn't it? Despite his 80+ years of absence, Valentino and the romance surrounding him remain just as contagious, scintillating, and provocative as ever. He seems a fitting choice for July, as our temperatures start to rise with the escalating summer weather. What is it about this guy that will not fade away? What it is about us that refuses to let him???

Perhaps more than any other star of his era, Rudy represents the majesty and poetry of the silent screen. Despite the fact that his career and life were cut short after a mere 31 years, despite the number of flops he made and the way he was personally attacked by the scrutinizing public, he remains more famous and familiar than most of his contemporaries. Garbo and Chaplin are two other survivors, but their hefty careers and iconic personae serve as explanation. Rudy had only a handful of hits, yet his name and face will spark a look of recognition in almost anyone's eyes. While even greats like Gloria Swanson and Thomas Meighan leave many scratching their heads, Rudy is an answer before there's even a question. His "stamina" is partly the result of chance. Rudy burst onto the scene and established the dark, male hero during the roaring twenties when people were finally ready for change. The first film star of his kind-- ethnic, Italian, dangerous-- he paved the way for the others who were to follow, but maintained his notoriety as the first. This is a fact that many forget today, and for which Rudy, who had to suffer his share of prejudice and bigotry, should be respected for.

With good pal Nita Naldi in Blood and Sand

But there is much more to it than that. That is purely circumstantial. The meat of the matter is that Rudy had a special and romantic quality that made him and his performances infinitely palpable and intensely poignant. Audiences couldn't help but be effected. This emotional and adventuress young man developed into a sensitive and dedicated actor, whose success was a product of the fact that he wasn't afraid to feel and feel deeply. Whether suffering the pangs of love, incensed with anger, or indulging in a boyish joviality, the screen radiated his depth and warmth, and the world lavished in it. So powerful was his effect that in addition to pulling throngs of women to him like moths to a flame, so too did he attract the unmitigated rage of the male populace. The jealousy of the male ego spawned a plethora of negative public attacks on Rudy and his masculinity, so that over time he would be falsely remembered as a "sissy" and a "pink powder puff." I guess guys can be just as catty as girls...

The truth is, Rudy-- despite rumor of his sexuality and whatever side of that argument you choose to take-- was "all man" as they say. Rudy was an overachiever, feeling and doing all things at 100%, whether it was sculpting his body, evoking powerful emotions, or eating his famous spaghetti. He was an athlete and an aesthete, a stallion and an artist. It only makes sense then that in his death, he should be remembered in all of these different ways, whether adored or abhorred. His refusal in life to be just one thing or settle into one definite role left us with a catalog of faces and identities to grapple with. In his death, we still argue over who Rudy was, and the controversies surrounding him-- his sexuality, his marriages, his sordid past-- only add to the mystery about him. His enigmatic nature and confounding persona echo throughout our past and present and indefinitely will do so in the future. But who would want to live in a world without him? 

Valentino is love: love's avenger, love's captor, love's captive, and love's martyr. Yet we are the ones still held prisoner. The sheik, the toreador, the bandit, and the eternal romantic hero, he lives forever in a world of silent beauty. Fittingly, the silent era died right after he did. After all, no kingdom can survive without its King.