On Favre and Ledger

Two of the most prominent sports/entertainment stories this summer have been Heath Ledger's performance in The Dark Knight and Brett Favre's non-retirement. Is there a more perfect example of fate's sick sense of irony that when Ledger died, he was effectively denied (or denied himself?) the chance for a graceful exit, while Favre, when given the perfect chance for a well-deserved and celebrated adieu, instead insists upon simply being annoying?

I have no problem with players playing as long as they want; but for the past three years, Favre has insisted that he's retiring, and then finally come back. Last year, he stated very plainly that he was definitely retiring. And now he's everywhere again.

On the other hand, there's Ledger, whose Joker completely overcame what was already a pretty wonderful version of Batman. I would go so far as to say that his Joker is the film's protraganist, in the same unintended way that, about 350 year ago, John Milton's Satan became the hero of Paradise Lost. Christian Bale is a delightful and talented actor, but in comparison to Ledger, his Batman came off as churlish, arrogant, and even tyrannical (especially given his penchant for ubiquitous surveillance a la the Bush regime), only a certain part of which I think was dictated by the director and script.*

I highly recommend this film, and like most important films during this decade, it will surely be classified by history as "post-9/11" (but what isn't classified as "post 9/11" these days?).

Ledger and Favre are also interesting for a different reason: they are icons for early twenty-first century American manhood/masculinity. It's been a staple of every Sunday for the last fifteen years, to hear the fawning of the nation's collective sportswriters and commentators over how boyish and fun and manly Brett Favre is.

Why is it acceptable for mainstream American men to openly express their man-crushes on Brett Favre and to regale over his fun-loving boyishness (often celebrated for his love of the risky, inadvisable throw), while for the same people Ledger's performance in Brokeback Mountain, which represented a true professional risk, produces so much squeamishness? And yet, what Ledger accomplished for American culture in that role was to show that "manliness" isn't as simple as enacting a few telling characteristics. Manliness, at its best, contains strength and warmth, substance instead of empty posturing.

Favre is undeniably talented, and was very fun to watch. But Ledger is the man.
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*Bale's and Ledger's talent can also be compared in they Bob Dylan pseudo-biopic I'm Not There.

*NFL quaterbacks must fit into one of the three following categories: 1) cerebral/professional (Peyton Manning, Steve Young), 2) hunky and perfect (Tom Brady, Joe Namath), 3) boyish and free-wheeling (Brett Favre, Terry Bradshaw).