Cool Hand Luke Exposé

The movie Cool Hand Luke presents several different and interrelated existentialist themes on aspects of faith and belief. Luke is portrayed as a “good ol’ boy” who is fun-loving and hard working. He seems bored and restless with life; he always seems to searching for something more and when he doesn’t find it; he looks for ways to fill the void and the monotony of living: “. . . it’s somethin’ to do, ain’t it?” This attitude well sets the tone for the aspect of faith as portrayed in Cool Hand Luke.

Throughout the movie, Luke displays a nominal faith. It is as though he has the will to believe in something more—on some level he undoubtedly does—but it almost seems he is predisposed to believing that God is distant and uncaring. And he may well have good reason to feel this way: his father was absent in his own life.

Professor Paul C. Vitz (New York University) postulates an unusual theory in his article “The Psychology of Atheism.”¹ He uses Freud’s model of the Oedipus complex² to reflect on Freud’s own life and the life of other noted atheists and non-believers. Freud unwittingly lived out his own theory. However, Vitz admits that this hypothesis is of only limited usefulness and has been called into question by some people. So he takes it one step further, quoting Freud himself:

This all but universally accepted idea of our fathers largely determining our view of God, when applied to fathers who are unworthy (or perceived to be unworthy) of respect, abusive, neglectful, or absent, could well explain the anti-God sentiment Freud and others displayed. Indeed, Freud’s own relationship with his father was bitterly disappointing. And Luke never even met his father, left not only to fend for himself but also to shoulder the responsibility for his entire family. He quickly learned to trust in himself and himself alone. If Professor Vitz is correct in his analysis, it should come as no surprise that Luke would be predisposed to think of God as being distant at best and absent or sadistic at worst.⁴

There are many instances throughout the film that demonstrate this perspective of Luke’s faith. When Luke’s mother, whom he loves dearly, dies, he sings a woeful song about a plastic Jesus and the Virgin Mary. Then there is the incident where the men are out working on the road and it begins to rain. The crew are told to get in the convoy, but Luke defiantly refuses, standing in the rain, shaking his fist at an empty sky, obviously testing what he is certain will be an imaginary or uncaring God. Then there is the incident where he prays to God that the guard will not hit him anymore when he is digging the ditch in the Boss’s yard. Or, at the end of the movie he is in an empty church calling on the “Old Man” to answer him, but no response seems to be forthcoming. In fact, he feels God has let him down, playing a cruel joke on him at the climatic ending.

The entire movie is so obviously a statement of religion that it would seem incomplete to stop with Luke’s attitude alone. Many scenes are characterized by religious—and specifically Judeo-Christian—motifs, such as the songs that the crew sing, the numerous portrayals of Luke as a sort of antihero messiah, the rain that always pours when God is brought into the question . . .

I believe that the screenwriter clearly portrays a disillusionment with Christianity, God, and life itself. His statement of faith seems to be that though it helps certain starry-eyed persons feel better, there really is no personal God on the other end to connect with: that He is distant, uncaring, fickle, and arbitrarily does whatever He wants to whomever He wants with little or no regard for the ultimate good of His creatures. The playwright’s declaration of faith is not so much atheistic as it is pessimistic and skeptical of one’s ability to influence one’s destiny in this life—or any life to come, if there even is such a thing. One could also form a case that the scriptwriter is displaying at least a modified belief in determinism, that the free will one does exercise is an exercise in futility, and this would again support the thesis that the dramatist is not really atheistic (for determinism requires a Determinate) so much as he is disenchanted and a bit cynical.

My personal thoughts on the matter are somewhat wide and varied, though they revolve around my own Christian experience and the life I led before I reached that point. I suppose I will begin by saying that I find it interesting that the writer makes such a big, painstaking “to-do” over Christianity, God, and faith in general in the first place. There must be some basis for his personal fascination with the subject and his vicarious sentiments expressed through his character Luke. (I am operating under the supposition that someone would not spend so much time and effort on such a work without having some deeply rooted personal interest vested.)

When we read A Good Man is Hard to Find by Flannery O’Connor, we noted that in many ways O’Connor seemed to be making the statement that the murderous Misfit had given much more thought to the question of Jesus than did the somewhat foolish Grandmother who was a believer.⁵ In the same way, the fact that the scriptwriter spent so much time paying such careful attention to detail would suggest much thought to the subject of God and His Son Christ Jesus. As familiar with the Christian faith as he is, no doubt he has had some personal experience with Christianity. Perhaps he grew up in the church or had at one time tried to put his faith in Christ but—for whatever reason—became disillusioned.

C.S. Lewis makes a poignant statement in his seminal work Mere Christianity: “When a young man who has been going to church in a routine way honestly realises that he does not believe in Christianity and stops going—provided he does it for honesty’s sake and not just to annoy his parents—the spirit of Christ is probably nearer to him then than it ever was before.”⁶ In the same way, a man who grapples with God is a man most likely to find Him in the end, provided, as Lewis maintains, he is truly seeking answers. The psychoanalyst in me is convinced that the scathing indictments of someone intent on maligning God usually correspond to one’s disappointment of not finding the God one was hoping for, not in the absence of one’s faith. The simple fact remains that such a person still believes—believes and cares deeply.

As to my perspective of the overall message of the film: I am not bothered by it, though if I were Paul Newman, I would have winced at the prospect of addressing God as “Old Man” knowing what I know now, unless I knew that by doing so I would actually point the viewer toward Christ by assuming such a role. In the end, even from my Christian perspective, I don’t think such a work is a bad thing. It isn’t going to interest the apathetic, likely isn’t going to make a Christian lose his or her faith, and probably isn’t going to worsen the disenchanted skeptic. I believe the film causes one to think (and in my personal opinion this is always a good thing). It helps the Christian understand on a deeper level why he or she is a Christian and it puts the topic of discussion into the broader accessibility of the skeptic who is compelled to grapple with the issue anew.⁷ And he or she better watch out . . . he or she might just get more than he or she bargained for . . . just as this young skeptic once did. Indeed!

¹ Vitz, Paul C. “The Psychology of Atheism.” Leadership U. (See under subheading “Atheism as Oedipal Wish Fulfillment.”)
² Oedipus complex: Freud’s theory that the male child envies his father and would like to remove him out of the way because the boy is secretly sexually attracted to his mother. His father obviously poses a formidable threat to such covetous affections.
³ Qtd. in: Vitz, Paul C. “The Psychology of Atheism.” Leadership U. (See under subheading “The Psychology of Atheism: The Theory of Defective Father.”)
⁴ Note that though Professor Vitz presents empirical evidence, in reality it is only a useful theory that has its exceptions, as nearly everything in life does. Or, as Alexander Chase paradoxically remarks: “All generalizations are false, including this one.” While the absence of a positive paternal figure predisposes one toward atheism, it does not predetermine or guarantee that one will adopt that stance, anymore than having a loving, caring earthly father makes one an automatic Christian, though again, there is strong evidence to support such a correlation in many instances. All things considered, each person’s choice is still ultimately up to each person, no matter what odds may, or may not, be stacked up against him or her.
⁵ Flannery O’Connor—a devout Roman Catholic and the controversial author of the often macabre and grotesque short stories typically centered in the deep South, such as A Good Man is Hard to Find—has this to say in defense of her craft:

When I look at stories I have written I find that they are, for the most part, about people who are poor, who are afflicted in both mind and body, who have little—or at best a distorted—sense of spiritual purpose, and whose actions do not apparently give the reader a great assurance of the joy of life.

Yet how is this? For I am no disbeliever in spiritual purpose and no vague believer. I see from the standpoint of Christian orthodoxy. This means that for me the meaning of life is centered in our Redemption by Christ and what I see in the world I see in relation to that. . . .

The novelist with Christian concerns will find modern life distortions which are repugnant to him, and his problem will be to make these appear as distortions to an audience which is used to seeing them as natural; and he may well be forced to take ever more violent means to get his vision across to this hostile audience. When you can assume that your audience holds the same beliefs you do, you can relax a little and use more normal means of talking to it; when you have to assume that it does not, then you have to make your vision apparent by shock—to the hard of hearing you shout, and for the almost-blind you draw large and startling figures. (From “The Fiction Writer and His Country”—qtd. in: Barnet, Sylvan, William Burto, et al. An Introduction to Literature. New York: Longman, 2001. 246-7.)

⁶ Lewis, C. S. Mere Christianity. San Francisco: Harper, 1952. 191.
⁷ As a quick aside: You know, it amazes me how such of big deal is made of Christianity if it’s just merely a bogus claim or wishful thinking. Why is Christ’s name on nearly everyone’s lips, even spilling forth from the most profane, often with greater regularity than from the pious? Supposing He really is God, the one and only Savior of the world, this really wouldn’t be so difficult to understand. But if He isn’t, then why all the fuss? Whoever you say He is, I think it is safe to conclude that this was no ordinary man. As Lewis remarks, a Jew claiming to be God: either this man was a raving, egotistical lunatic—or He was God. Strangely, even His harshest critics don’t seem to view Him as a lunatic.