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Those steeped in Fametracker lore will know that Harrison Ford is the Sun.
Way back in the Pleistocene Era of 1999, we were developing the concept of the Galaxy of Fame as a celestially-themed round-up of celebrities's ups-and-downs. If someone was far out on the fringes of the galaxy, that meant his fortunes were falling; closer to the sun indicated an upturn in his affairs. (This all made perfect sense at the time; I think we'd all just recently seen Lake Placid and were left disoriented for several days, as though we'd taken bad acid.)
Anyhoodle...the point is that we needed to find a sun. Someone whose career was so rock-solid, his legacy so assured, that he was, essentially, immune to falling and rising fortunes. Someone no scandal could capsize. Someone who, above all others, was guaranteed to live on for future generations as one of our era's preeminent screen idols, in the way that Cary Grant or Humphrey Bogart or Audrey Hepburn survive for us today.
We picked Harrison Ford.
That was before he got mixed up with Ally McBeal.
In fact, it was before K-19: The Widowmaker, before What Lies Beneath and before (or, at least, concurrent with) Random Hearts. It was definitely before Hollywood Homicide, Ford's new film, which is getting very mixed reviews. (We saw it. We don't usually venture forth with reviews; suffice to say it's the kind of movie where the bad guy, a multimillionaire rap mogul, will yell, "I'm not going back to prison!" and then try to avoid this fate by engaging two L.A. cops in a running gun battle through downtown Hollywood, as opposed to, say, surrendering quietly, getting a really expensive lawyer, and then getting acquitted.)
We're not saying that Harrison Ford has tarnished his legacy beyond repair. We're not saying that he won't live on as the late twentieth century's answer to Humphrey Bogart.
No, we're saying something far, far worse. We're saying that he just might be jeopardizing his place as the Sun in the Galaxy of Fame. Hey, you fool around with Lara Flynn Boyle at your peril.
Ford's current status among stars is illustrated by a running joke in Hollywood Homicide. Ford plays the partner to a young cop played by Josh Hartnett. Both cops have part-time jobs on the side: Ford sells real estate, while Hartnett is a yoga teacher. But what Hartnett really wants to do is act.
Ford, of course, scoffs at his partner's fruity acting aspirations, and that's the first level of the gag: Ha, ha, Harrison Ford, famous actor, is dumping on acting.
But the joke works on a second level: The whole film can be read as a master class in movie stardom, with Ford as the professor and Hartnett the student.
Because while Ford may not be much for acting, but he's got the movie-star thing down cold. Since his breakout in Star Wars, Ford has earned an unimpeachable movie-star cred. This is largely due to the fact that, early in his career, he had the good fortune to land two iconic roles -- first Han Solo, then Indiana Jones -- and the good talent to make sure that these characters stuck in our imaginations for good.
Unfortunately, Josh Hartnett isn't quite up to the lesson. (Sorry, thirteen-year-old girls!) In the movie, not only is Ford's character irritated by Hartnett's character, but Ford doesn't seem to be thrilled with Hartnett either. Ford reminds you of a dad trying to teach his son to throw a football. Come on, kid, Ford seems to be saying. Just watch me. It's not that hard.
You can't blame him for being frustrated. Ford's been Hollywood's preeminent leading man for going on twenty-five years. And who's come along to unseat him? Tiny, squeaky Tom Cruise? Self-righteous Tom Hanks? Ego-blinded flop magnet Kevin Costner? Greasy, bloviating Alec Baldwin?
When Ford took over the role of CIA spook Jack Ryan from Baldwin after The Hunt for Red October, he seemed to be showing the upstart just how it's supposed to be done. Then Ford ceded the role to Ben Affleck in last summer's The Sum of All Fears. Ben Affleck! What did he bring to the part, save for a chin dimple?
Listen closely, and you can almost hear Ford exclaiming: Do I have to do everything around here?
Ironically, Ford's secrets aren't so hard to unravel. He certainly hasn't been the kind of depth-plumbing actor whose technique needs to be unfolded and decoded like a cryptic treasure map. The publicity for Hollywood Homicide describes Ford's character as "weary but tenacious," though the description could well fit Ford's whole onscreen persona. Sure, he's charming; yes, he's rugged. But has there been a modern actor who does weariness so well?
Ford has made a brilliant career of playing reluctant knights in ill-fitting armour. Forget saving the damsel; Han Solo and Indiana Jones looked like they barely wanted to get out of bed. They had to be talked into every good deed. Every action, every punch, every thrust into hyperspace or swing across a chasm seem preceded with a huff and a weary "Oh, all right."
Think of Indiana Jones pulling the gun to shoot the menacing swordsman in one of Raiders of the Lost Ark's most famous moments. Legend has it that the scene was originally a choreographed fight, and that Ford suggested the change because he was suffering from diarrhea. (Once again, diarrhea changes the course of western culture.) True or not, that moment has come to define Ford's career, and his appeal.
Don't forget that in Raiders of the Lost Ark, the only reason Indy and his lady friend survive, while the Nazis get cooked into bloody exploding biscuits, is that he has the good sense to squeeze his eyes shut at the climactic moment. As heroes go, this is not exactly Errol Flynn dashing in on the torn mainsail, swinging his sabre at the bad guys.
In his more recent roles, though, the self-deprecating oafishness of Indy and Han Solo has been replaced by an impatient humourlessness. The best moment in Hollywood Homicide is when Ford's character bellows at this poor little girl, then steals her pink bicycle. All of Ford's characters these days seem so damned inconvenienced by their film's plots. What? You think I killed my wife? What? I have to dodge the cops and find the one-armed man myself? What? There are terrorists aboard Air Force One -- and I have to kick their asses? Can't you see I'm the President? Aren't there other people who can do that for me? What? Now I have to pretend to be in love with Anne Heche?
Geez, he really does have to do everything. Who can blame him for being a little P.O.ed?
So instead of saying that Harrison Ford doesn't make good movies anymore, it's better to say that no one's making good movies for Harrison Ford. Sure, he hasn't made a Raiders of the Lost Ark in a while, but then again, when's the last time you saw an action movie as good as Raiders of the Lost Ark? ["On this point, MFF's views do not reflect those of the rest of Fametracker's management." -- WC]
And don't think of Ford's career as faltering; think of it as a well-deserved movie-star semi-retirement. He makes his one movie a year. Sure, he plays the same part over and over again, but that's because no one's stepped up to replace him. He's like a shift worker, except the guy who's supposed to relieve him called in sick. (I can't come into work! I've got chin dimples!)
Can't they see that Ford just wants to retire to his Calista and his rocking chair, to sit on the porch and enjoy the warm glow of posterity as his era's starriest star? Can somebody -- anybody -- help him out with this?
P.S. To preemptively ward off any ill-tempered emails of the "But I can't believe you didn't mention..." type, please pay close attention:
Blade Runner.
That is all. Thank you.
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