The Persistent Vision of Robert Mitchum

By Joe Hilliard

Over the years, Robert Mitchum has come, more than anyone else, to signify the film noir detective hero. Based primarily in the image of him in Jacques Tourneur’s Out of the Past, his heavy-lidded eyes, peering out from under his fedora, a cigarette stuck in the corner of the mouth, and the trench coat worn rain or shine, Mexico or Reno, this is the archetype. The slow drawl when he speaks only furthers the hazy image. But what is it about Mitchum that makes him so much larger than life? So much the icon? Even his later, wastrel, version of Philip Marlowe in the 1970s Farewell, My Lovely and The Big Sleep goes beyond the merely picaresque and endows these films with a gravitas far beyond what they deserve. But what is it? Is it the hooded eyes? That “Marijuana Mitchum” stare? Is it the sagging cheeks that even in his younger days made him look so world-weary, so wise? Is it the cut of his suit? The shoulders that seem just a little too wide? The waist a little too narrow? The body that seems just a little too bored? And a little too rundown? Is it the sneer that always seems to be just at the corner of his lips? Is it the way he smokes a cigarette? The fact remains that more than any other actor associated with film noir, more than Dana Andrews, more than Robert Ryan or Sterling Hayden, more even than Humphrey Bogart, he is the physical manifestation of that man in darkness, the noble and the ignoble wrapped into one. He is both the loser, and the winner. Watch His Kind of Woman; he gets beaten, but he gets the woman.

And it is this image, this icon, of Robert Mitchum that has invaded the comic book consciousness as well.

Kurt Busiek’s Astro City functions as both his homage to the comics of his youth (the imprint that publishes them is even named Homage), but also as his extended dialogue into the place and meaning of superheroes. The story points of view range from the every day person to alien invaders to superheroes writ larger than life to minor heroes to all stripes of society. Busiek has certainly not limited himself to any one given style of story over the years, and because of this he has created a well thought out superhero world that works. That works really well. You can smell, you can taste, this world he has created. And The Tarnished Angel functions as his homage to the crime novel and the film noir of yore.

Originally a seven issue arc in the monthly Astro City, The Tarnished Angel has been collected into a single volume. The volume sports an Alex Ross painting dressed in the 1950s Fawcett Gold Medal cover style, with the “Complete and Unabridged” across the bottom and the hyperbolic text blurb across the top. And while Ross can be an excellent artist, unfortunately this is not one of his most striking covers, nor does it particularly catch the 50s novel style the design emulates. Our hero, Steeljack, the ex-con, is standing in the rain, in his trench coat, lighting a cigarette. It is the icon pose, but it doesn’t leap out at you. It is more posed panel than enticement. There is no flash, no excitement. The trade design is further marred by the faux aging of the front and back covers, with its artificial creases printed into the corners, making it look like it’s used and beaten. It’s a style I do not like. It marred the cover to the recent Andrew Vachss’ The Getaway Man as well. It is simply too cloying, too blaring, of its retro roots. It screams: “look at me, I’ve got that old school vibe.” Just let the art speak for itself. Just let the story speak for itself. I don’t need the veneer of the past to make me enjoy a piece of art. It should stand on its own, even with its influences.

And the image itself is undeniably Robert Mitchum. If there was ever any doubt, the Brent Anderson art for the story clearly gives us a The Friends of Eddie Coyle-style Mitchum, replete with the sideburns and paunchy face. In the post-script to this collection, Ross even cites Mitchum as the original model for Steeljack, and throws in some fascinating Mitchum caricatures. But the image is only so much; it only takes us so far.

What does Busiek do with the story? For all its superhero trappings, The Tarnished Angel is indeed forged in the classic hardboiled tropes of detection and betrayal. With its overreaching story arc punctuated by flashbacks, and flashbacks within flashbacks, Out of the Past is an easy reference point for the outline, but really it works as a variation on the Fawcett Gold Medal model with its double and triple crosses, of good hidden within the seemingly bad, and evil within those seemingly good. The plot basically finds Steeljack, recently out of jail, asked by the low-rent neighborhood he lives in to investigate the deaths of several low-level superhero criminals. The police, the heroes, and even many of those in the neighborhood ignore the problem, leaving the bad to police the bad. Along the way, Steeljack becomes involved with his neighborhood at last, as well as solving several neighborhood issues. He may not be any better off at the end, but he has found a measure of peace. Busiek does a phenomenal job of juggling his subplots involving the younger generation of thieves and heroes, and even a side trip to England, while enmeshing Steeljack further and further into the furtive superhero underworld. It is no small measure of his skills that he ties all these disparate threads together into a highly rewarding read.

Unlike Busiek and Co., Matt Fraction and Kieron Dwyer’s The Last of the Independents is told in a deceptively simple manner. Trio robs bank. Trio ends up with mob’s money. Trio remembers how they met. Mob comes after money. Mob loses big. But Fraction invests a lot more than that into the story. He shows a deft touch in delineating his central characters of Cole, Billy, and Justine, letting them stretch, to become human. Working on a much smaller canvas than Busiek, a novella to his novel, Fraction is able to pull together a tight, taut story filled with both surprises and inspiration. He employs judicious flashbacks to compose living, breathing characters. It is indeed a measure of Fraction’s talent that he pulls off what he does within his meager 64-odd pages

Dwyer’s scratchy-scratchy style perfectly compliments this tale of criminals both noble and ignoble. And, it all starts with an image of Robert Mitchum. Cole is the crudely hewn image of, again, the older, paunchier Robert Mitchum. This is not The Story of GI Joe; this is The Yakuza and an older man trying to find his way in the new world. Nicely delineated in some really amazing sepia tones in the vertical, rather than horizontal form, Dwyer has created a beautiful, highly stylized, highly Cinemascope, feel for the story. With the focus on old school Cole, this is as it should be. The cover image here is a tight group shot of our trio of heroes and their car, yet the rough lines and sepia give it a lot of punch. This cover jumps off at you. When you slip the slipcover off, you are treated to the same cover now widescreened, and, baby, it still looks good. It looks great. And Cole to the far left just drags the eye perfect to him, shotgun over his shoulder, and, yes, cigarette in his teeth. Perfect.

While some of the Reservoir Dogs trappings that Fraction indulges in with his mob characters fall flat, it is really only in comparison to the vibrancy of Cole and his amusement park world. And perhaps that really is the point. Criminals aren’t writ large anymore. They aren’t writ in broad powerful strokes. They are small, and they are petty. In short, they aren’t Robert Mitchum anymore.

It is fascinating to see the face of Robert Mitchum reflected in comic book culture. And it is a reminder, even in a superhero book, that we really don’t need heroes. What we really need is Robert Mitchum.

The Last of the Independents is available from AIT/Planet Lar. Astro City: The Tarnished Angel is available through DC/Homage. Some classic early period hardboiled Mitchum films to check out: Angel Face, The Big Steal, Crossfire, His Kind of Woman, The Locket, Macao, The Night of the Hunter, Out of the Past, The Racket, Thunder Road, and Where Danger Lives. Some later period Mitchum hardboiled films to check out: The Big Sleep; Farewell, My Lovely; The Friends of Eddie Coyle; and The Yakuza. Sadly most of these films are unavailable on DVD or video. Watch out for them on Turner Classic Movies, they have an excellent and extensive library that they make good use of.

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