Here's a fascinating article that has some serious bearing (highligted portion) on the casting of McGee:
Where have all the grown-ups gone?
Look at the current crop of action heroes in theaters.
We have a nicely armored Robert Downey Jr. in “Iron Man 2.” A stolid Russell Crowe in “Robin Hood.” And, that tireless veteran, the great Michael Caine, in “Harry Brown.”
Now ask yourself: If it were 2 in the morning, and you were in trouble, who would you want to see on your doorstep?
Pick “Iron Man” if you want — it’s certainly the obvious choice. But I’d vote for either Sir Robin or plain-spoken Harry — even at his advanced age.
Because in their movies, both men come off as men.
And the lone American comes off as — well, kind of a spoiled kid.
It’s not simply his chronological age; Downey is, after all, 45, a time at which one seriously should be considered an adult. Nor is it just the character; “Iron Man” may have his issues, but Downey was no sturdier in “Sherlock Holmes.”
It’s simply that on-screen the actor — a very fine actor, by the way — seems lightweight, easily distracted, not serious. He doesn’t seem like someone who could take charge of a situation. He seems like a child.
And so do most American actors.
Eternal youth
It’s true that we’ve always been an optimistic country, a nation full of ideals and ambitions — and those are the virtues of youth. But that raw, unweathered attitude has so permeated our popular culture, we sometimes seem like a nation of adolescents.
And it’s left our actors at a disadvantage, as Hollywood increasingly imports its movie testosterone from abroad.
The peculiar thing is, American men used to be men almost from boyhood. Think about Spencer Tracy and Clark Gable in “San Francisco” — both about 35 at the time. Or John Wayne, 32 in “Stagecoach.” Or Jimmy Cagney, the same age, in “The Public Enemy.” Or Robert Mitchum and Kirk Douglas, both all of about 31 when they made “Out of the Past.”
You wouldn’t call any of them boyish. In fact, they might have slugged you if you did.
Back then, to be thought of as a boy — go away kid, ya bother me — was to be thought of as annoying, undependable, unimportant. It you wanted something done, you went to a man. And when you went to the movies, that’s who you saw on-screen.
But then came the revolution — or at least, the ’60s version.
It was an upheaval, and in America, the social civil war soon divided itself along generational lines. Everything old was seen as negative, antiquated, wrong; everything new was positive, relevant, right. The new man of the zeitgeist was shaggy, irreverent, sloppy, casual — and young.
It took a while to work its way through popular culture; the ’60s were the time of Frank Sinatra, Gene Hackman and Lee Marvin, too.
But by the post-Watergate era, leading men had been replaced by leading boys, and what were once seen as liabilities — self-doubt, sexual uncertainty, emotional vulnerability — were enshrined as virtues.
And they’re still worshiped today.
An accent on experience
In Great Britain, though, the same ’60s conflict was defined not by age but by class. Seniority wasn’t seen as the enemy to progress; privilege was. And that allowed a wave of young men with up-from-the-street backgrounds — like Caine, like Richard Harris, like Sean Connery — to redefine stardom.
And there was nothing vaguely hesitant or puppyish or achingly vulnerable about any of them.
That movement took root and has given England, and other countries that draw on its Anglo-Irish culture, generations of grown-up actors.
It cuts across gender lines, providing strong female icons, too. Actresses like Tilda Swinton, Cate Blanchett and Kate Winslet don’t just seem more mature than our native-born actresses; they seem more formidable than most of our men.
The result has been a national maturity gap, a lack of seriousness and responsibility that puts American actors at a disadvantage. They’re good at playing devilish, roguish, prankish. They’re fine at playing sensitive, damaged, innocent. But self-motivated, self-sacrificing, self-assured?
Not so much.
Yes, there are exceptions, American leading men who carry a certain on-screen weight. George Clooney, Tom Hanks, Samuel L. Jackson all radiate confidence, competence and calm. The idea of any of them playing an adult character whining about a father who “never told me he loved me” — as Downey does in the “Iron Man” sequel, or Tom Cruise used to do in nearly every movie he made — is absurd.
But Clooney turned 50 this month. Tom Hanks is 53. Jackson is, amazingly, 61. And among their juniors, the number of grown-ups (Liev Schreiber, maybe? Jeffrey Dean Morgan, perhaps?) thins out dramatically.
Think about the current crop of youngish players, the men constantly called upon whenever the screen needs a real dose of machismo — and then think about where they all hail from. Crowe? Australia. Sam Worthington? England. Gerard Butler? Scotland. Christian Bale? Wales. Eric Bana? Australia. Daniel Craig? England.
And why does Hollywood import them? Just try recasting their films and you’ll see.
Or can you imagine Tom Cruise as a violent, hard-bitten cop in “L.A. Confidential”? Tobey Maguire leading a scruffy band of Spartans in “300”? A tortured Mark Wahlberg as “The Dark Knight”? Shia LeBeouf fighting for the soul of Pandora in “Avatar”? Johnny Depp looking for rough, bloody justice in “Munich”?
I didn’t think so.
Growing older but not up
It’s not that the younger generations aren’t full of accomplished actors; Matt Damon, for example, was great as the baby sociopath in “The Talented Mr. Ripley” and has romped convincingly through endless “Oceans” and “Bourne” films.
But cast him in something grittier, something that cuts closer to the bone — as, say, the career Army officer of “The Green Zone” — and that suspension of disbelief goes right out the window.
Leonardo DiCaprio, an excellent actor, has toughened up lately, too, the baby curves of his face giving way to straighter edges. And, yes, he was good as a tired cop in “Shutter Island” (although he was better as a tormented rookie, in “The Departed”).
But did he really convince as a weary ex-mercenary in “Blood Diamond”? As the hard-charging tycoon Howard Hughes, in “The Aviator”? As the CIA’s top Middle East operative in “Body of Lies”?
Not quite.
To his credit, he continues to try. In fact, his production company recently announced it had bought John D. MacDonald’s Travis McGee mysteries. It even plans one, “The Deep Blue Good-by,” as possibly the first in a series, with Oliver Stone to direct and DiCaprio to star.
But McGee is an ex-football player and war veteran. He’s a solid, crewcut specimen, with a suspicious squint and a stiff drink in one meaty fist. That’s not DiCaprio.
That’s Glenn Ford, around the time of “The Big Heat,” or even good old Brian Keith, back before “Family Affair” turned him into a cuddly grump.But these days all our Brian Keiths and Glenn Fords are on Turner Classic Movies. No American star younger than 50 radiates their big-screen authority.
The male shortage
In the short term, this strange disconnect is good for lots of people. It benefits actors from other English-speaking countries, who get to come here and pick up our blockbuster movie checks. And it benefits American actors who, even as they move through their 40s, can still engage teen audiences.
But what does it say about our own culture when we can no longer produce our own grave, grown-up heroes? And what will it mean to the kinds of stories we tell, when we have to look outside our borders for people to star in them?
It’s a sobering question, although it’s wrong to ask it only of Hollywood. Movies rarely revolutionize their world; mostly they reflect it. If films are casting tentative, prankish, mumbling boy-men in leading roles well, then, that’s who’s leading the culture in real life, too.
Perhaps if, as aging Baby Boomers once declared, “60 is the new 50” then 30 is the new 20. Americans take longer now to graduate from college, move away from home, begin their own families. The timeline has changed. We’re younger longer now, and that’s a fact.
And it’s also true that there will be those who will look at these changes and say, about time. A new age needs new heroes.
They’ll insist that those in-command, alpha-males who used to stride across our movie screens, solving crimes and saving settlers, were only cheap symbols of an authoritarian patriarchy. That those tight-lipped, no-time-for-tears men only promoted the kind of emotionally withholding society that’s kept therapists employed for years.
And they’ll say that it’s far more realistic to have movie stars who are imperfect and irresponsible. They’ll say it’s far more honest to have heroes who, far from being paragons to emulate, are simply even more flawed versions of ourselves. They will even say we’re better off without bigger-than-life stars, or impossibly confident, capable heroes.
Don’t believe them.
source:
http://www.nj.com/en..._candle_to.html