As we near the reflective time of “what was this year about”, 2023 might be the year of aging action heroes looking back on their legacies.
We had the many musclemen elders of the screen who lent their stories to Nick de Semlyen’s delightful ode to 80s explosive excess, The Last Action Heroes. Arnold Schwarzenegger is currently on a publicity tour for his self-help memoir Be Useful: Seven Tools for Life (a book that comes soon after Arnold, this year’s doc mini-series on the Austrian superstar). TikTok continues to push me towards new videos of living muppet Steven Seagal teaching martial arts to eager students abroad. And last weekend, I spent my Saturday morning watching Thom Zimny’s Sly, a documentary looking at the legacy of Sylvester Stallone (the film is executive produced by Stallone, if that gives you any indication of its objectivity). Part of my interest in consuming any of this is a nostalgia for the marquee gods of my childhood. The other itch this satisfies is insight into what I’m scared of becoming. Because in any of the interviews, films, and books I’ve recently devoured from or about these aging icons, I’ve found an unsurprising thread—how dearly these men are holding onto their self-mythology. And this is something that fascinates and scares me about being a man.
Throughout my life, I’ve developed some sympathy for men who peaked early and very publicly. The guys who had high school athletic glory and spent the remainder of their lives reliving these accolades or searching for another shot. The musical phenom who never got recognition past early youthful good looks and those few hits; relished to reliving past arena-filled glory days in front of dwindling crowds at fairgrounds. Or those who reached the heights of multiplex idolatry, only to find out that age took its toll on their body and the public’s interest in their talents. I can’t imagine being exceptional at something so early, in front of so many people, only to spend the rest of my life trying to maintain that prestige.
In a year where former action heroes reckoned with the blemishes on their bronze, I find myself on the lookout for those who seem to be okay stepping away from the public’s projection of their superheroism.
Richard Roundtree died in October at the age of 81. His career in entertainment began in modeling (along with smoldering good looks, the man had a glorious full head of hair throughout much of his career).
But Roundtree’s legacy was cemented for audiences in the early 1970s. Heralded as the first Black action hero by many, he was best known as Shaft. And for good reason. Roundtree played the private dick in three theatrical films (Shaft in Africa is the most entertaining of the trilogy, in my opinion), seven television films, a 2000 and 2019 reboot, and even knock-off versions of the icon in a Schlitz commercial and an album of songs by the actor called The Man from Shaft.
As Spike Lee stated soon after Roundtree’s passing, “JOHN SHAFT Was Our Super Hero, Our Superman. FINALLY.”
The original film, and Roundtree’s performance, received credit for setting the stage for Black heroic stardom in the 1970s, namely in Blaxploitation films. All of this before Roundtree turned 40. That’s a lot of pressure to live up to.
Obviously, I can’t speak to the experiences of being a Black man, especially from a 1970’s lens. But I imagine how complicated it was to hold onto a legacy where men like Roundtree were sitting at the vanguard of Black masculinity, being asked to shepherd the path for Black heroism on-screen, and, let’s be honest, continuing to show the rest of us how to cosplay badassery.
While Richard Roundtree spent the rest of his career in entertainment, he never reached the heights of Shaft again. What do you do after you’ve experienced the zenith of masculine idolatry? Do you keep chasing that identity or do you adapt?
Richard Roundtree continued his post-Shaft career, not as an action hero, or leading man, but as an actor. He worked a lot. And in good stuff, too. TV fans saw him in Beverly Hills 90210, The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, or Grey’s Anatomy. Movie nerds may have recognized him show up in David Fincher’s Seven or the Wachowski’s Speed Racer. Roundtree’s filmography showcases consistent work in Hollywood which points to an actor who either accepted whatever came his way OR took the opportunity to consider what roles he’d be willing to play. Since Roundtree never continued to chase a heroic mold in the roles he chose, I think it was the latter option for him. And this is why the most interesting moment in Roundtree’s career isn’t in any of the films where he played Shaft, but in a 1991 TV appearance in a FOX sitcom.
Roc debuted on the FOX network in 1991. The sitcom followed the life of a blue collar family in Baltimore, led by the patriarch, Roc, his wife, brother, and father. While not explicitly issue-driven, the series didn’t shy away from the social realities facing Black families in the 1990s, including marriage and family.
On October 20, 1991, the network aired the eighth episode of the first season titled Can’t Help Loving That Man. Richard Roundtree guest starred as Roc’s uncle, Russell. At face value, there’s nothing remarkable about Roundtree’s casting in a mostly forgotten sitcom from the early 90s, except, the episode now stands, inadvertently, as a landmark: it was the first gay marriage depicted on network TV.
In the episode, Russell returns to Baltimore to let the family know that he’s gay and plans to wed his partner in a ceremony that, as Russell puts it, “is more of an acknowledgement of our commitment than a legal ceremony.” This was 1991, where options for official marriage licenses for gay couples were almost non-existent.
Besides the radical nature of a plot like this appearing in a 1991 sitcom, what stands out, along with the writing, is Roundtree’s performance. The character of Russell is not played for laughs. Roundtree’s portrayal is full of dignity and devoid of the stereotypes often used to lampoon and distance heterosexual actors from the queer characters they were inhabiting.
After the episode aired, the character of Russell (and Roundtree) appeared throughout the run of the show, and continued to offer a nuanced look at his life and relationship with his partner.
I’m not well-versed enough in Roundtree’s career to know if he played a queer character again, but he seemed proud of his role in Roc, remarking to WBUR’s Robin Young, “I've gone out of my way to establish a different side of my acting, even going to playing the first interracial gay couple married on television.”
In that same interview with Young, Roundtree is asked about another role that came to signify the last portion of his life—breast cancer survivor. In 1993, the actor discovered a lump and was diagnosed with breast cancer (about 1% of all breast cancer cases occur in cisgender men). Ultimately, Roundtree's life was saved by chemotherapy and a modified mastectomy; removing his left breast from the nipple to the underarm.
Following his recovery, Roundtree spent the rest of his life acting as a spokesperson for cancer survivors and speaking publicly about the need for men to get checked. In his interview with WBUR’s Robin Young, Roundtree said, “Breast cancer is not gender specific. And men have this cavalier attitude about health issues. And I got such positive feedback because I spoke out about it and it's been quite a number of years now. I’m a survivor.”
After over five decades in the industry, Richard Roundtree’s career added up to over 150 credits in movies and television. Some of them box office and rating successes, others mostly forgotten. But in his journeyman approach to the industry following a career high matched by few, he showcased a different sort of heroism—aging gracefully and showing the humanity in any role he inhabited, be it as an uncle in a now-iconic moment for queer media representation or as an advocate for men to take better care of their health.
Maybe that’s more of the badassery we need to cosplay.
🏅 this week’s staff picks 🏅
🚻 The great Anne Helen Petersen looks at the friendship dip.
💃🏽🕺🏽 The algorithm has fed me DJ Spizike’s hip hop and trap mashups with vintage Latin sounds and I am a “hands in the air” fan.
🎧 I had the pleasure of working with Aseloka Smith a few years ago on the development of The Colored Girl Beautiful. It’s such a treat to hear her voice again and know that we’re getting more from her in the near future.
👔👗 All I want for Christmas is this jacket worn by Richard Roundtree on the set of One Down, Two to Go.
🎥 One of my favorite films starring Richard Roundtree is Larry Cohen’s gory grindhouse masterpiece Q: The Winged Serpent. It’s got gritty 1980’s NYC locations, a very game David Caradine, and A LOT of “ewwwwwww” moments.
(Pssst, want more film recommendations? Follow me on Letterboxd)
I’m taking next week off for family and food time—so should you! Nos hablamos en dos semanas.
Adios, ciao ciao, byeeeeeeeee,
Mark ✌🏼
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