The last few days have been mostly miserable in world and entertainment news, and you know I generally don’t focus on miserable things on this blog. There’s plenty of that to be found elsewhere, in the views of people smarter and stupider than I am.
But like a lot of people, occasionally I feel personally affected by a celebrity death, and I was saddened to wake up today and read that actor James Garner has died at age eighty-six. I think more than any other actor, he shaped my idea of what a leading man should be, and I know for sure that carried over into the kind of men I like to write, especially as romantic leads.
It begins, as so many stories do, with “I blame my mother.” I was a wee thing, and maybe it was a day that my mother had to take me to a doctor or something, and felt like we needed a treat, so she and I went to a matinee. In later years, we’d laugh together at the education I got when we watched The Americanization of Emily. I’ve never seen the movie again as an adult, but I vaguely remember lots of bedroom scenes in James Garner’s portrayal of a cowardly and reluctant war hero who wants to win the heart of Emily (played by Julie Andrews).
“It was Mary Poppins and Maverick!” my mother would always say in her own defense.
Whatever else impressionable me might have taken from that day, the movie began my lifelong adoration of James Garner. Though I had to see most of his early television work in syndication, including “Maverick,” I was an avid “Rockford Files” fan. But any time I saw his name on the credits of any TV show or movie, I knew I was in good hands–and that his leading ladies would be, too. What a list that includes, along with Andrews: Audrey Hepburn, Doris Day, Shirley MacLaine, Sally Field, Lauren Bacall, Gena Rowlands, Angie Dickinson, Elke Summer, Ellen Burstyn, Suzanne Pleshette, Natalie Wood, Lee Remick, Eva Marie Saint, Jodie Foster, Sandra Bullock. Whether he played romantic lead, friend, or father, he could blend tender, rugged, wry, and strong like nobody else. Along with his emotional range, he was as unafraid to play physical humor as to do his own stunts (a tendency that caused him a lot of injuries and physical pain).
He brought the same wry humor and daring to his screen interactions with his male costars, and unlike a lot of them, his movie masculinity didn’t translate to stories of bad behavior in his personal life. As both performer and person, he always appeared to be a gentleman. A leading man indeed. Rest in peace, James Garner.
This caricature was drawn by artist Pete Emslie on Garner’s birthday this year. You can see Emslie’s other birthday tributes to Garner on his blog.