A quiet masculinity

Four-time Academy Award winner Clint Eastwood has directed films for half a century and starred in them since 1955, but the nonagenarian doesn’t seem interested in retirement. Cry Macho, his new movie in theaters and streaming on HBO Max, is a quiet meditation on masculinity that explores the value of old age.

Eastwood plays Mike Milo, a rodeo cowboy whose glory faded decades earlier. Mike takes a job from his old boss, Howard (Dwight Yoakam), who needs Mike to drive from Texas to Mexico City to retrieve his estranged son Rafo (Eduardo Minett). Rafo’s mother lives in debauched luxury and her string of boyfriends abuse Rafo, who opts to live on the streets. Rafo wants to be tough and trains a fighting rooster he names Macho, saying the rooster is just like him.

Rafo doesn’t trust anyone, but he agrees to go with Mike because he’s attracted to the authentic manliness he senses in the squinty-eyed cowboy. The drive back to Texas is slow, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy as Mike and Rafo are pursued by both the Mexican police and thugs hired by Rafo’s mom. They find themselves stranded in a small Mexican town, living off the kindness of Marta (Natalia Traven), a widowed restaurant owner raising her three granddaughters.

Mike tries to earn his keep by training horses and fixing broken things: busted machines and wounded animals. Mike finds a purpose for a life he thought was over, and through his quiet example, he also manages to fix Rafo’s hurting heart.

Rafo has never experienced the love of a father, and he imagines being a man is to be tough and violent. He’s a little disappointed when his new cowboy friend doesn’t meet expectations. The film critiques Hollywood toughness when Mike tells Rafo, “This macho thing is overrated.” Protecting those we love rarely requires physical violence. Mike demonstrates quiet masculinity rooted in a care for others. He teaches and shapes, and he sometimes does this by simply asking the right questions.

Claire Folger/Warner Bros.

Cry Macho, rated PG-13 for rough language and behavior, isn’t a fast-paced adventure. Mike’s drive through the countryside and his hunt for Rafo on the streets of Mexico City could be described as leisurely. When he arrives in Marta’s small town, the movie slows down even further. For a movie about a duo on the run, much of the running time is taken up by dialogue. But it’s not that there’s lots of talking—everyone just talks so slowly. Mike’s an old laconic cowboy who thinks a long time before he says anything, and Rafo, who’s speaking in his second language, starts to match Mike’s cadence. It’s only when Rafo and Marta speak Spanish that you feel any urgency and you’re reminded the world hasn’t stopped completely.

This slowness might be off-putting for some viewers, but there’s beauty in the pacing. Eastwood stretches our patience and reminds us the arc of redemption can be long. Solving the world’s problems takes time, and contrary to what we’ve seen lately, most of those problems can’t be solved with an earthshaking explosion or a well-timed superhuman punch.

To appreciate Cry Macho, you need to watch it for what it is: an old man’s movie. But if I had to lodge a complaint, it might be that I found Eastwood a little distracting. He looks pretty good for his age, but when he walks across a room, I feel all 91 of his years. Perhaps he should have made this movie 10 or 20 years ago. Even so, I marveled at his dedication to filmmaking: He obviously feels he still has something to say.

At one point in the movie, as Mike helps a lady with her sick dog, he mutters, “I don’t know how to cure old.” Maybe old isn’t something to be cured. Maybe it’s something to be worked out with grace and dignity, with an eye toward passing on the most important lessons to the next generation. Eastwood’s done exactly that with Cry Macho.