#46 — Mr. Majestyk
This is part of an ongoing, illustrated countdown of my 49 1/2 most essential action movies. Last week I talked about Dredd.
In the ignorance of my youth, I admit that I overlooked this one for many years because of the title. Much like the main character, appearances can be deceiving. His name is Majestyk? What is he, a bald eagle? A tire mascot? Actually, he’s a Charles Bronson, an action star that my dad passed on to me, pointing him out in things like Battle of the Bulge and The Great Escape. What constituted as action cinema for older generations came almost exclusively from soldiers and cowboys, and in this case, a farmer.
Bronson shares a backstory with many of these characters. He grew up poor, worked in a Pennsylvania coal mine, served in the Air Force, and probably plowed 40 acres with a fork to plant his “Majestyk Brand Melons”. I’d believe it if he told me, his wrinkles don’t lie. This is a blue-collar action hero that just wants to run his business and be left alone. It’s the classic underdog Bronson archetype (see also Hard Times and Once Upon a Time in The West). I enjoy these characters much more than his cop roles where he’s just an even dirtier Harry Callahan.
I like how the central conflict starts relatively small, and unravels into personal slights turned violent. Al Lettieri is a perfect foil as Frank Renda, the humiliated hit man that becomes obsessed with payback. His rage is humorous in contrast to Bronson’s patently understated demeanor. In an effort to provoke Majestyk, Frank’s goons massacre his entire harvest, lining up with machine guns to spray fruit everywhere. The camera pans down to a clenched fist as Majestyk surveys the damage. They’re trying to kill the American spirit! Now it’s war.
As things escalate, this turns into a robust action film that feels modern enough to be made today, but built out of all the old, heavy parts of something you can’t buy anymore. Prison transport breakouts in the middle of small towns, classic Ford trucks built like tanks being launched by stunt drivers, and log cabin shootouts that are tense and explosive. I’m taken by the raw power of this kind of movie. It reminds me of my dad handing me old pieces of hardware or electronics and saying “feel this, feel the weight of this” in reference to its quality. Most of today’s action films are slick, but they aren’t heavy. They bend and break like cheap plastic and particle board. Eventually, they’re thrown out and forgotten.
I think it’s good to watch old action films like this in between the steady diet of government funded super assassins and reckless, vigilante action cops that movie theaters are inundated with. Those impossible missions and fast furies are fun, but they’ll make ya soft. I’m not saying don’t watch ’em, just don’t eat a whole bag of Green Screen without doing a couple pushups. Learn to work with your hands a little, get behind the wheel of a 1968 Ford F-Series pickup truck and let your old man know how it feels. Call your dad “my old man”, walk home through 40 miles of snow, and rent Mr. Majestyk. Think of it as your action fruits and veggies.
