World-shakers like Luke can never explain why they do what they do, why they continue to act even in the face of severe retribution. At best, if really pushed, their explanation is something along the lines of “it has to be done.” As romantic as the life of the world-shaker may sound, to live it is a burden, one seemingly imposed by a force beyond what the world-shaker can fully understand.
* * *
What’s the difference between a rebel and a world-shaker? On the surface, the two words seem like synonyms, except maybe one’s a bit more poetic. Yet in practice the two are very different. Rebels have causes and agendas they wish to push into the public consciousness. Every word, every action taken by the rebel is said and done to build and maintain an image. The rebel has a goal, a desire to effect change. While not bad in itself, it rarely brings lasting change as, noble as it may seem on the surface, the rebel’s cause, at its core, houses a selfish desire.
The world-shaker, on the other hand, has no singular cause. They simply act in response to a system that claims to know what’s best for them and seek to rigidly define who they are and what they are allowed to do. Their actions aren’t statements so much as “biological imperatives” that guide their behaviors. The world-shaker acts out of an innate desire to be free, to live as they like without intrusion from oppressive, authoritative forces. It is a desire so strong that death is preferable to resisting it. It is this inability to do anything other than what needs to be done, even if it demands their death, that separates the world-shaker from the rebel. It is why they, not rebels, change the world.
The term “world-shaker” was popularized in Cool Hand Luke (1967) and is used throughout the film to describe the main character, Lucas “Cool Hand Luke” Jackson, who gets two years in prison for destroying “municipal property” (he cuts the heads off of parking meters while drunk). The film, when analyzed closely, offers a detailed study of the classic world-shaker and highlights how they differ from rebels.
Luke is a “natural born world-shaker.” He’s the guy we cheer because he does what we, bound by the rules of propriety and duty, are too afraid to do. We cheer even though we know the end that awaits world-shakers like him: death or banishment or punishment so severe it leaves them half – sometimes literally (think McMurphy in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest) – of what they once were.
In an early scene from the film, we immediately see the world-shaker’s dilemma: the constant battle between what they want to do and what they end up doing. Luke just wants to keep his head down but is forced to speak up for a wronged fellow prisoner. Dragline (the initial antagonist who later becomes a friend) tricks one of the new inmates into believing he’s bought a choice prison work assignment. When the inmate demands the assignment from the bosses (as the prisoners call the guards), he’s brutally beaten and thrown into the “box,” a sort of solitary confinement. This angers Luke and sets up the following scene:
Dragline: He ain’t in the box because of the joke played on him. He back-sassed a free man. They got their rules. We ain’t got nothin’ to do with that. Would probably have happened to him sooner or later anyway – a complainer like him. He gotta learn the rules the same as anybody else.
Luke: Yeah, them poor old Bosses need all the help they can get.
We learn two things about Luke from this scene. One, despite wanting to “keep his head down” and just serve his time, he can’t help speaking against what he believes to be wrong. The second is that he has no patience or tolerance for anyone or anything that aids the system in robbing a man of his freedom. This sets up the prison yard fight scene between Luke and Dragline.
Luke is severely outmatched, and Dragline is pummeling him so hard it’s becoming increasingly difficult for the other prisoners, who were initially cheering, to watch. One by one they slink away as Luke, bloody and bruised, keeps getting up. Even Dragline is disgusted.
“Stay down. You’re beat,” say Dragline. To which Luke responds, “You’re gonna have to kill me.”
World-shakers like Luke can never explain why they do what they do, why they continue to act even in the face of severe retribution. At best, if really pushed, their explanation is something along the lines of “it has to be done.” As romantic as the life of the world-shaker may sound, to live it is a burden, one seemingly imposed by a force beyond what the world-shaker can fully understand.
In one of Cool Hand Luke’s many iconic scenes, we see the extent of Luke’s “biological imperative.” Luke’s chain gang is breaking rocks on the side of a road when it starts to rain. Lightning flashes across the sky, and the terrified prisoners run for the safety of the trucks – all except Luke. Instead, Luke stands firm in the rain, dripping wet, mocking God. The scene plays like this:
Dragline: Knock it off, Luke. You can’t talk about Him that way.
Luke: Are you still believin’ in that big bearded Boss up there? You think he’s watchin’ us?
Dragline: Get in here. Ain’t ya scared? Ain’t ya scared of dyin’?
Luke: Dyin’? Boy, he can have this little life anytime he wants to. Do ya hear that? Are ya hearin’ it? Come on. You’re welcome to it, ol’ timer. Let me know you’re up there. Come on. Love me, hate me, kill me, anything. Just let me know it.
[He looks around]Luke: I’m just standin’ in the rain talkin’ to myself.
On the surface, this might seem like an atheist’s manifesto. But truly it is Luke holding his breath, metaphorically speaking. God, in this scene, represents not the deity of Christianity or any other religion (though I suppose it could if you prefer it that way), but rather the agent behind Luke’s biological imperative – whatever it might be. You could just as easily have Luke screaming at a mirror. What we are seeing is the desperate act of a man trying to force the hand of “God” so that he might have answers for why his life is the way it is, and why he has to be who he is within it.
“Natural born world-shakers” like Luke, don’t set out to change the world, to turn it on its head and watch the wicked fall out. No. The world-shaker just follows a default setting of not accepting anything as the way it is or should be. The world-shaker rarely intends to go up against the system, but inevitably something happens that puts them right in its behemoth path.
Perhaps the world-shaker kisses a boy in a country where it is within the bounds of the law for his father to kill him for it; perhaps he refuses to give up his seat on a train simply because the conductor tells him he is too dark to possess it; or perhaps he refuses to be drafted into a meaningless war by a country that has done little to fight the domestic injustices perpetrated against its marginalized citizenry. Whatever the catalytic event, the world-shaker has no choice in how they will respond. There is only one answer – resist. The same event on a different day and the response may be different. But not this day. This day it is as if the stage were set for no other purpose than to introduce the world-shaker to their destiny.
The world-shaker isn’t in it for money or fame or glory, because the they know there is none to be had. Not in this life. Not for them. Whatever glory comes of the world-shaker’s actions likely comes long after they are dead. The world-shaker is not a rebel but an archetype, and it is “theirs not to make reply, theirs not to question why, theirs but to do and die.” This is the world-shaker’s manifesto.
Another important characteristic of the world-shaker is that they usually don’t want to be world-shakers. The world-shaker, at times, resists the biological imperative. In these moments of trying to be “normal,” the world-shaker may forsake their passion in favor of a well-paying, “normal” job where they laugh a little too hard at their bosses’ bad jokes; they may decide that homosexuality is indeed a sin and dodder off to find the latest psychiatric “cure”; or they may simply bite their tongue and say nothing when a clear injustice is perpetrated in front of him.
In the end, however, these attempts at normalcy fail. The world-shaker inevitably yanks off the tie or slips out of the pleated pantsuit and yells, “enough!” They turn their back on the norm and reshape it in their own image. In so doing, they inevitably incur the wrath of the system they rejected. The system will come afer them, they know, but they would rather die free than suffer another day of “faking it ‘’til they make it.” The world-shaker pulls their cloak tighter about them and continues down the cold, lonely path that is their destiny.
We see this side of Luke, this attempt to be normal, in a scene with his mother, Arletta. Arletta is dying, but she’s made the long trip to the prison to see her favorite son one last time.
Arletta: You know, sometimes, I wished people was like dogs, Luke. Comes a time, a day like, when the bitch just don’t recognize the pups no more, so she don’t have no hopes nor love to give her pain. She just don’t give a damn . . . (She hands him the pack of cigarettes)
Oh, I had me, I had me some high old times. Your old man, Luke. He wasn’t much good for stickin’ around, but dammit, he made me laugh.
Luke: Yeah, I would have liked to have knowed him, the way you talk about him.
Arletta: (after coughing) He’d have broke you up. Luke? [pause] What went wrong?
Luke: Nothin’, everything’s cool as can be. Arletta, I tried. I mean, to live always free and above board like you. And, I don’t know. I just can’t seem to find no elbow room.
Arletta: (takes his hand) Oh now, you always had good jobs. And that girl in Kentucky. Oh, I’d taken a shine to her.
Luke: And she sure took off – with that convertible fella.
Arletta: Well, why not? Idea of marryin’ got you all, all bollocksed-up. Tryin’ to be respectable. You, you was borin’ the hell out of all of us. I’m leavin’ the place to John.
Luke tried to be “respectable,” but he “was borin’ the hell out of all of us.” Respectable (whatever that means) is not in his nature; it’s not who he was meant to be. World-shaking is in his DNA, for better or worse. A world-shaker can no more stop world-shaking than a tree can stand still in the wind.
There’s another scene in which Luke tries to be normal. Following his second escape from prison, he is forced to dig a hole the size of a grave in the prison yard. He does it. Then he’s told to fill it back in. He does. This goes on all night until Luke, valiant effort aside, is exhausted. He falls to his knees and begs the warden for mercy. He’s broken. He’s tired. All he wants is to rest. And if that means giving the bosses exactly what they want, then so be it. The system is too big, and it hurts too much to world-shake against it.
A few days later, Luke runs around obeying the bosses’ every order. The new, servile Luke appalls his fellow inmates, who once loved him. Some even spit at him. But Luke doesn’t care. Life is easier this way. It hurts less. He’s even got some perks that the other prisoners don’t enjoy. He does as he’s told, and his reward is respite from pain. But then fate steps in.
Luke is sent to retrieve something from one of the trucks. While searching for it, he discovers that the keys have been left in the ignition. Luke now has a choice to make: stay and serve out his time as a lapdog of the system with all the perks thereof or run. It was never really a choice. He runs. Luke hops in the cab, guns the engine, and takes off. Dragline, who is close by and loves Luke’s “world-shaking” ways, grabs on as the truck roars by, and the two of them take off down the road. Free. For the moment.
Dragline is ecstatic. He was disgusted with the sycophantic Luke and is glad to see that his “boy,” Luke, was “foolin’ ’em all along.” But as the next scene with Dragline demonstrates, even Luke doesn’t know why he did it:
Dragline: You’re an original, that’s what you are. Them mullet-heads didn’t even know you was foolin’.
Luke: Foolin’ ’em, huh? You can’t fool ’em about somethin’ like that. They broke me . . .
Dragline: Aw. All that time, you was plannin’ on runnin’ again.
Luke: I never planned anything in my life.
Dragline tries to ascribe some deliberation to Luke’s actions, but Luke makes it very clear that there wasn’t any. He was beat. Yet when it came down to it, something within him said “run.” So he ran. That’s it.
Dragline doesn’t want to believe him. All Dragline can see is the “glamour” of Luke’s world-shaking ways, and he wants in. Eventually, the reality of Luke’s world sets in – mostly the loneliness of it – and it frightens Dragline. Take the next scene in the sequence, for example.
Luke and Dragline have ditched the truck and are now on foot. It’s dark, and Dragline is having a hard time keeping up, so Luke stops underneath a tree to let him catch his breath.
Dragline: Whoee, it’s cold. Wisht I had somethin’ to eat. Bread, grits, beans even. Soon’s we get to my house, we’re gonna have us one big meal and then I’m gonna show you some farmgirls that . . .
Luke: We ain’t goin’ nowhere.
Dragline (confused):What you talkin’ about, Luke? We’re together, you and me, just like always. Now the thing we gotta work out is how to get Koko outa there and then the Terrible Trio be all complete again. Man, this old Free World ain’t gonna know which ear to stand on.
Luke: Yeah, well, you and Koko kin handle it without me.
Dragline: What you mean, Luke?
Luke: I’ve done enough world-shakin’ for a while. You do the rest for me. Send me a postcard about it.
[Luke gets up, starts off]Dragline: But Luke . . .
Luke: Take it easy, Drag.
Dragline: Luke. Where you goin?
Luke: On my own.
Dragline: But what am I gonna do all by myself? (hangs head) Oh if’n I hadn’t lost mah head. I only had two more years to go. But when I saw you tearin’ down with that truck. . . . But you right Luke. We oughta split up. Be safer for us both.
Dragline realizes his mistake. World-shaking is not a party. It is not a choice. It is hard and cold and lonely . . . and it is very scary. Dragline can’t handle it. He runs back to the safety of the system.
Luke, on the other hand, can’t go back. He has so thoroughly embarrassed the system that he knows they’re going to kill him for it. He spots an old church in the distance and heads for it. Like the scene in the rain, Luke needs to understand why he keeps doing what he never truly planned to do. He was “in.” He was comfortable. He was “happy.” Yet when the opportunity presented itself, he ran . . . again. He heads for the church to once again confront his biological imperative, and, in a way, see if there is any way that he might not have to die for it. Inside the church, Luke looks up to the ceiling and starts talking. It is one of the most moving scenes in cinematic history.
Luke: Anybody here? Hey, Old Man. You home tonight? Can You spare a minute? It’s about time we had a little talk. I know I’m a pretty evil fellow . . . killed people in the war and got drunk . . . and chewed up municipal property and the like. I know I got no call to ask for much . . . but even so, you’ve got to admit You ain’t dealt me no cards in a long time. It’s beginning to look like You got things fixed so I can’t never win out. Inside, outside, all of them . . . rules and regulations and bosses. You made me like I am. Now just where am I supposed to fit in? Old Man, I gotta tell You. I started out pretty strong and fast. But it’s beginning to get to me. When does it end? What do You got in mind for me? What do I do now? Right. All right. [Gets on knees, closes eyes and begins to pray] On my knees, asking. [pause] Yeah, that’s what I thought. I guess I’m pretty tough to deal with, huh? A hard case. Yeah. I guess I gotta find my own way.
Dragline: Luke?
Luke: [Shakes head and smiles] Is that Your answer, Old Man? I guess You’re a hard case, too.
This scene, deliberately or otherwise, plays like Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane the night before he is to die, where he pleads with God to “let this cup pass from [him].” Granted, Christ was more pious and reverent in his pleas, but the ultimate purpose of the prayer before death remains the same, to ask two seemingly simple questions: “Must I?” and “Why me?” Yet there is rarely an answer for the world-shaker; and where one is received it is usually a disappointing “Yes” and “Because . . .”
After Luke finishes his “prayer,” Dragline returns with cops and sheriffs in tow. He tells Luke that he’s cut a deal with them, and they’ve promised not to hurt Luke. Luke knows better. He’s not leaving the church alive. He accepts his fate.
He steps to the window where he sees men with rifles aimed at him and waiting for the order to kill him. Luke smiles and says the film’s most iconic (and often quoted) line, “What we’ve got here is failure to communicate.” A single shot is fired. It catches Luke in the throat, silencing him forever. He falls backward into Dragline’s arms. Dragline, crying and horrified by what his betrayal has caused, carries him outside. In a final act of rebellion (and it is just rebellion) brought on by rage, Dragline chokes the man who shot Luke until he’s beaten off of him.
Luke is put into a police car. It drives off, ostensibly to the hospital, but it’s clear that he won’t make it – the authorities won’t allow it. The car pulls to a stop at a traffic light, and the light changes from green to red. Lucas “Cool Hand Luke” Jackson is dead. This is how it was always going to end. Only the location and the means of death were to be determined.
In the film’s final scene, Dragline is describing the events of that night to the other inmates:
Dragline: They took him right down that road.
Convicts: What’d he look like, Drag? He had his eyes open or closed?
Dragline: He was smiling . . . that’s right. You know, that, that Luke smile of his. He had it on his face right to the very end. Hell if they didn’t know it ’fore, they could tell right then they weren’t a-gonna beat him. That old Luke smile. Old Luke, he was some boy. Cool Hand Luke. Hell, he’s a natural world-shaker.
Through superimposed scenes of Luke over the prisoners working in a field, we see that despite still being prisoners, their lives are just a little bit better. There is an ease and grace that weren’t there before Luke. Luke didn’t set out to change their world, nor did he rebel against it as a political statement. He simply lived according to his own rules, and the world shook around him.
[Dialogue from Cool Hand Luke (dir. Stuart Rosenberg, Warner Bros.-Seven Arts, 1967), as transcribed on IMDb, “Cool Hand Luke (1967)”]* * *
Unless otherwise noted, all images are screenshots from the film.
