If “The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot” (2019) isn’t a fable about post-traumatic stress disorder, it ought to be. And if it is, it’s the best one I’ve ever seen. Sam Elliott (who is having quite the late-life renaissance), is The Man. One of the greatest of The Greatest Generation, we find him in 1987. Outwardly, a quiet retirement. Inside, the silent torment of his memories of love and war, which we see in flashback. He needs something to get him out of this purgatory. Fortunately, there’s a monster to slay, literally, but I also think figuratively.
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If you ever want to understand the difference between a musician and a rock star, watch Gregg Allman as the saloon owner (who may or may not be a drug kingpin) in “Rush” (1991). Dude has only five lines of dialogue, but he owns the whole damn movie. Nobody ever said more by simply strutting through a doorway, hair and charisma flowing equally and in all directions. The movie itself is kind of bleak, as undercover cops get high on their own supply. It should have been the vehicle that catapulted Jason Patric into stardom. Instead, his career went undercover.
Sam Elliott isn’t allowed to act anymore. He can’t show up as a stunt-casting gimmick on “Will and Grace,” or in some throwaway action flick. He can’t even voice-over a barbecue sauce commercial. No, he made “The Hero” (2017), which is one of those magnum-opus-type star turns that aging actors suddenly summon when they still haven’t won a major award. Sam plays a pot-smoking actor who made a great cowboy film long ago, but he’s dying now, and he’s trying to figure out how to die, and still live, and it’s pretty impressive. So no more acting, Sam. We’re good.
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