Carl Weathers and the Problem of Black Masculinity

Most famous for his roles as Apollo Creed in the Rocky films and as Dillon in Predator, Carl Weathers had a moment in the 1980s. He even starred in his own action film that was so filled with action it had action in the title. That would be Action Jackson for those not in the know. Weathers was muscular and handsome. Really, his appearance was almost unreal. In his day, he looked something like a black Ken doll; which, I think, invites some closer consideration. He had the right look of an action star but he was the wrong color for the time. For the most part, black actors were sidekicks in action films, they were part of a duo as in the many buddy cop films of the 80s. Or, if they did star in their own action films, it was made evident that they weren't real action stars. Eddie Murphy's role in Beverly Hills Cop was more comedic than tough, thereby preserving the norm of the white action hero. It wasn't until the early 90s that black actors such as Wesley Snipes and, to some extent, Samuel L. Jackson got to carry an action film. Now, of course, Will Smith's action movies make millions, but again, there is the humor aspect that changes the whole tone of his image.

But to return to Weathers-- in the 80s, he never played a stereotype and was always a good guy (in his role as Creed, he went from being Rocky's opponent to being a friend)-- playing either boxers, cops or military men. Yet he was never able to be in the league of the major action stars of the day. He just didn't catch on. It could be argued that some action stars just didn't reach the pinnacle that others did. Certainly, Chuck Norris or Dolph Lundgren, who are famous in their own right, aren't in the same category as Sylvester Stallone or Arnold Schwarzenegger. Maybe the same set of circumstances kept Carl Weathers out of the top tier of action stars. Except he wasn't in the same set of circumstances. He starred in two of the blockbuster hits of the 80s. (Lundgren did play the villain Ivan Drago in Rocky V but that is precisely why I think his situation is different than Carl Weathers. Few action stars of this era rose to the top playing villains. The only actor who did that was Arnold Schwarzenegger with James Cameron's Terminator. However, it must be acknowledged that Schwarzenegger promptly reversed that performance by playing the reconditioned and no longer villainous terminator in Terminator II).

What likely kept Carl Weathers out of the mainstream was an unease surrounding black masculinity. It also didn't help that Action Jackson wasn't a very good film. In some ways, he made a career out of a stereotypical idea of blackness, in that black men are often considered only in terms of their bodies, their physicality. Yet he made a point of subverting that by playing stereotypically white roles- that of brave soldiers and cops. Though Weathers got his start playing criminals and thugs in blaxploitation films of the 70s (Bucktown and Friday Foster) he avoided those types of roles later in his career.

The Intersection of Masculinity and Race

Striking Poses, Striking Difference

Though Walter Hill's 48 Hours was released in 1982 it still retains a rather late 70s feel. Jack Cates' (Nick Nolte) wardrobe has very nearly the same drab brown button down formality of Eastwood's Harry Callahan except Cates appears to be loosening up ever so slightly for the new era. He wears blazers, but no tie or sweater. His oxford shirt is unbuttoned at least to the second or third button. Instead of slacks, he wears fitted boot cut jeans and cowboy boots. He is casual yet still formal. When Cates and Reggie Hammond (Eddie Murphy) are introduced in one of the earlier scenes in the film, it is evident that Cates is a little square on fashion. Hammond makes a point of correcting Cates' assumption that his suit cost $500 when in fact its price was close to $1000. Aside from differences concerning fashion, Cates and Hammond clash in other ways. One source of tension is that Cates is a cop who needs Hammond, a criminal, to help capture a fugitive named Ganz (James Remar). The primary cause of the friction, however, is racial- Cates is white and Hammond is black. It is clear from the outset that Cates is not too thrilled about black people, referring to Hammond first as "watermelon", "a charcoal-colored loser", a "spear-chucker" and then later breaking out the biggest racial slur of them all in a dramatic confrontation. Not only is Cates sporting a similar though modified look as Harry Callahan, he is also carrying over the racial attitudes of the previous era, using racial epithets with the same aplomb as Callahan.

Cates is slightly more open and relaxed than Callahan, however. In this way he ceases to be a 70s character and becomes more of an 80s one. Sure, he's tough and somewhat formal as evidenced by the blazer, but he has a swagger, a looseness. There is, from the outset, banter between Cates and Hammond that, as the film progresses, becomes friendly as opposed to hostile. Of course, this follows the true buddy cop (Hammond becomes an honorary cop in this film) movie formula. Certainly, 48 Hours can be credited with paving the way for a later and even more popular interracial buddy cop film, Lethal Weapon.

Richard Donner's Lethal Weapon was released just five years after 48 Hours but the mood couldn't be more different. Though they both take place in California, 48 Hours' San Francisco and Lethal Weapon's Los Angeles seem worlds apart. Where Cates and Hammond visit San Francisco's grimiest spots, Riggs and Murtaugh are searching for drug smugglers in the glitziest LA clubs. When Sgt. Riggs (Mel Gibson) and Sgt. Murtaugh (Danny Glover) meet, they, like Cates and Hammond, take an instant dislike to each other. This dislike isn't due to their racial differences, nor to different life experiences (they're both cops) but rather because Murtaugh perceives Riggs to be a loose cannon and Riggs fears Murtaugh is going to be a strictly by the book type of police officer.

If there is racial tension in this film it isn't expressed. In five years, open use of racial slurs in films had become frowned upon. There are, however, clear racial roles in this film. Though they share nearly equal screen time, somehow Gibson's Riggs seems like the main character, while Murtaugh is something of a satellite, an accessory. Though Murtaugh has been an officer longer, Riggs is characterized as braver and smarter. In one scene in a firing range, Riggs shows off his shooting skills by achieving a near impossible shot from a great distance, thereby making Murtaugh's impressive shooting seem lackluster by comparison. The point is made early on in the film as to whom is the most masculine. Murtaugh seems to accept this role without question, seemingly following Riggs' lead as the film progresses, though he is the older, more experienced cop. Nevertheless, these roles seem to suit both characters and they successfully fight crime while becoming partners and friends.

Both 48 Hours and Lethal Weapon focus on race, the latter more subtly than the former. Each film provides a showcase on the ways in which race and masculinity intersect. In 48 Hours, Murphy's Hammond is a jive talking criminal who revels in his ability to be infinitely cooler than Cates. Yet he is never portrayed as suitable competition in the masculinity department. He gets his moment to play cop in a redneck bar, but uses a slur to describe himself during the only moment where he truly gets to display an authentic masculinity. Alternatively, Glover's Murtaugh is an upstanding character, a family man and respected police officer who still cannot compete with Riggs' toughness, intensity, bravery and shooting skills. Hammond and Murtaugh both are much more formally dressed then their white counterparts, remaining in suits throughout the duration of both films. Yet in Hammond's case the suit is too flashy to garner respect, while Murtaugh's suit seems to suggest advancing age and irrelevance. No matter what they do or wear, they still don't quite measure up.  Curiously and rather contradictorily, these films likely played a role in lessening racial tensions at the same time that they play to the racial status quo.