Mandatory Steve McQueen

Was Steve McQueen a great actor? I don't know. Do you? Does it matter? He's been dead a long time (1980). I picture him as the kind of guy who wouldn't have much use for silverware. Not a neanderthal or anything, just too cool for shrimp forks. Or the kind of guy who would find shirts with collars a real pain in the ass—a step too far, neck-wise. I can relate: just toss me a ham bone and an ironic tee, chop chop! I love him in Love with the Proper Stranger, co-starring Natalie Wood and Mr. C. from Happy Days, which looks way more carefree and larky than it actually is, and maybe that's enough. Maybe it's enough that I judge the whole of Steve McQueen based on a single film performance that's so weird and off-kilter I can't even decide whether it's any good or not but love just for the fact of it existing. Maybe not jumping to conclusions vis-a-vis subjective, non-verifiable creative metrics is just part of my growth experience. But man oh man, the man sure could wear a sweater. (I'd say lose the cigar, Steve, but they didn't know things back in the 60s; I recently learned that from Mad Men. Nobody knew anything until about 1985, I guess. Now we're all geniuses.)