CLAIM TO TOUGH GUY FAME: 

Burton Stephen Lancaster was famous not only for playing Tough Guys, but for memorably portraying a certain type: the Tough Guy who’s hiding a more tender, vulnerable side that inevitably breaks through. As you could probably guess, he tackled a variety of Tough Guy roles in his illustrious career, including staples such as Westerns, war movies, and film noir. He was later able to break out of the Tough Guy mold and display a greater range of acting in dramas and comedies. In addition, he later co-produced many of his own films.

But Burt Lancaster is more than just a Tough Guy, more than your average movie star. As you’ll soon discover, although he certainly was talented, he also had a stupefying sense of luck that was basically a super power. He spent his life seemingly incapable of failing at anything ever   no matter the circumstances, and it almost makes you hate him, except no one does, because it’s Burt Lancaster.

Read on to see what happens when a Tough Guy dodges the grind and the hard way altogether in favor of an unparalleled professional winning streak that just won’t stop.

WAS HE TOUGH IN REAL LIFE?

Well, he was born in New York City, and as we discussed in the James Cagney entry, being a native New Yorker in those days is enough to garner a few Tough Guy points. He doesn’t seem to have it as hard of a childhood as some of our other Tough Guys, as he actually grew up with both parents. They were still blue collar, but instead of having a dangerous, unstable job, his dad worked as a mailman, which brought some degree of stability to the family.

All four of his Grandparents immigrated from Ireland. Many Irish neighborhoods in Harlem were pretty rough places to live, and Burt’s was no exception. Crime and corruption were rampant in these impoverished surroundings, forcing young Burton, who spent most of his time in the streets, to toughen up fast.

Little is known about his formative years; I’ve seen no accounts that he was prone to violence and fighting like a lot of other Tough Guys, but I think he got by fine on image and reputation. Know what his nickname on the block was? “Mister Muscles and Teeth”. Yeah, that’s pretty awesome. Now who wants to mess with a guy like that? Unrelated, but I have a hunch that a guy named Mister Muscles and Teeth did just fine with the ladies.

Gifted with tremendous athletic ability, Lancaster started gymnastics at an early age, sticking with the sport into high school, where he was also the star of the basketball team. With his natural strength and finesse, he was a good enough gymnast to earn a scholarship to NYU, but he was never a big fan of things like “learning” and “studying” and ended up dropping out in short order.

How good was he? Good enough to transition to the gutsy world of the circus, where he performed as a daredevil acrobat. It may not be as conventionally “tough” of a pursuit to what we’ve seen before, but I’d say that consistently putting one’s body and potentially life on the line counts as tough. That takes some serious audacity and confidence, and he was only 9 when he started.

He spent the 1930s touring around and performing his daring, high-flying trapeze feats for audiences across the country. Lancaster absolutely loved the circus and envisioned a long future as a performer, so he was absolutely devastated when he suffered an injury in 1939 that spelled the end of his acrobatic career. Completely aimless, he eventually made ends meet by working as a “singing waiter”. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered one of those so I’m not completely sure what that entails, but it sure sounds neat!  I know it’s not exactly “tough”, but it was too unique of a detail not to include.

BUT DID HE FIGHT IN A WAR?

Sort of. He was completely lacking purpose in life when Uncle Sam came calling to forcefully prescribe a little direction. He joined the Army in 1943 at the height of World War II, but his service was not quite as tough as some of our other veterans. He was assigned to the 21st Special Services Division, a unit that exists solely to provide entertainment for the troops to keep morale up.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s no unimportant role when it comes to the machinery of war, but his service lacks the mystique and edge of some of our other Tough Guys, like our decorated Marine sniper Lee Marvin. Lancaster’s unit worked directly with the USO to engage troops in combat zones and provide a little taste of home. When you consider the circumstances, it’s probably not all that insignificant.

Here’s the mystery: how exactly did he wind up in this role? At this point in his life, he had absolutely zero experience acting and zero interest in even trying it, so it’s not like he was a well-established or even fringe actor, the type of person that you typically fly in for the troops. I can’t find any details of what his “entertainment” entailed or what he did exactly.

Maybe he was tagged as a natural performer due to his circus experience? Maybe that old circus injury lingered and his body wasn’t quite right, but it’s worth noting that he wouldn’t have been accepted into the military in the first place if this ailment didn’t pass the rigorous screening process. Maybe someone caught a glimpse of his untapped potential as an entertainer. Or maybe, he was so absurdly handsome that he was a national treasure not worth exposing to active combat.

Did he enjoy his wartime experience? Did it somehow plant a seed for acting? Was he good at it? He seems like the type of guy who is annoyingly good at everything, so probably! So many questions, and so few details available about his service, which he was not fond of discussing. Well, in any event, any wartime service is nothing to sniff at, and Burt Lancaster served faithfully and dutifully enough to earn an honorable discharge from the Army after the War ended. Verdict: Counts as active World War II combat service, which is unimpeachably tough.

PATH TO GREATNESS:

Following his discharge, Lancaster returned to New York City, the only home he had ever really known. But what would be the next chapter in his life? He still had zero interest in acting until the fateful day he was discovered by a bigtime theatre producer. What was he doing to attract such attention? Just riding an elevator. Imagine having the dynamic physical presence and obscenely good looks to get discovered while doing absolutely nothing.

Apparently, the producer thought he had the right look for his new play. Could he act? Does it matter when you’re that handsome? Highly reluctant at first, Lancaster was eventually persuaded to give it a go, and in his very first audition ever, he managed to land a supporting role and had to quickly figure out how to act. 

Was this some student production? A tiny independent backstage play? An obscure off-off-Broadway production desperate for an audience? We’re talking about Burt Lancaster here, so the answer is no to all of the above. His very first acting role at any level was a significant part in a highly-anticipated major play opening to mass audiences on Broadway! Inconceivable luck, unparalleled talent, or both?

You know those annoying people that seem to have absolutely everything go their way? Do you think that Burt struggled through years of aspiration and rejection before making it? Not a chance. This very first performance of his got him noticed by just one Hollywood talent scout, but several. He was offered several exclusive studio contracts on the spot, and one agent sweetened his offer by promising to let him co-produce his own films! That’s a lot of clout for someone who’s still new to the concept of memorizing lines.

Through the agent, Lancaster was introduced to a famous and successful Hollywood producer by the name of Hal B. Wallis, who among many other achievements, was a legend for producing Casablanca (1942) by himself. Was Burt subjected to extensive test screening, relentless psychological profiling, and lengthy background checks? From what I can tell, after his first meeting with Wallis, he signed on to star in a whopping eight films for him. Importantly, unlike earlier days of Hollywood, this was a non-exclusive contract that gave him the right to star in other films as he pleased.

Now if you had to guess, how long do you think it took him to make it big? His film debut came in 1946 in Desert Fury, a film noir that allowed him to flex his Tough Guy chops playing a no-nonsense cop. It was just a minor supporting role, but sure enough, he attracted the attention of several other producers eager to cast him in their films, and not for supporting roles.

They desperately wanted him to be a leading man and a star capable of lighting up the box office.

Out of several promising options for his second film role, Lancaster was impressed by one script in particular, settling on the lead role of a boxer who defies the mob in The Killers (1946). The Killers flopped, delivering Lancaster a major setback to his young career. Just kidding! The tense film noir thriller proved to be a critical darling, box office smash, and awards fodder. It’s still considered a classic today and I highly recommend checking it out; it absolutely holds up.

Seemingly overnight, both Lancaster and his Killers co-star, the previously-unknown Ava Gardner, were established as major Hollywood stars with the brightest of futures. Again, this was his second film ever and third try acting. If this winning streak makes you sick, you better get used to it; it won’t be letting up anytime soon.

LATER CAREER:

He continued starring in successful films throughout the 1940s before finding his real passion: producing. His agent kept his promise to eventually let Lancaster co-produce a film, and in 1948, he got his chance, both co-producing and starring in the thriller Kiss the Blood Off My Hands. It tanked at the box office but was well-reviewed. He followed that up by helping produce the classic film noir Criss Cross (1949).

Lancaster continued to reign over the box office in the early 1950s, not just as an actor, but as a double threat who co-produced. He put out a steady string of films during this time, mostly hits but with a few unavoidable misses. In 1953, he starred in his most acclaimed film yet, the war drama From Here to Eternity. This role earned him his first Best Actor Academy Award nomination.

The film and Lancaster’s performance in it were universally praised by critics, and audiences responded by making it one of the top-grossing films of the decade. Although he came up short for the Oscar, it was one of the few misses for the film, which took home an impressive eight total Academy Awards, including Best Picture (and a Best Supporting Actor trophy for Frank Sinatra! Did you know he had an Oscar? I didn’t!). Overall, the box-office phenomenon added considerable prestige to the Burt Lancaster name.

Soon after, his work as a producer would be recognized; he won a Best Picture Academy Award in 1956 for co-producing that year’s big winner, the low-budget crowd-pleaser Marty. Trivia time! At just over 90 minutes, Marty is the shortest film to ever win Best Picture. (The longest? Points if you came up with Gone With the Wind (1939), the notoriously lengthy epic that clocks in at nearly FOUR HOURS long!)  

The remainder of the 1950s saw continuing success for Lancaster, with highlights including a Golden Globe Award for Rainmaker (1956), a romance film opposite Katherine Hepburn. His most well-known role during this period was as the legendary Wyatt Earp in the Western Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957), an absolute box office sensation that co-starred another Tough Guy we’ll be tackling in the future, KIRK DOUGLAS. It was proof that even as he had begun to focus on more diverse acting roles, Lancaster was still at the height of his powers and capable of bringing the heat at the box office.

And just when you think that there’s no way he could be even more fabulously successful as we roll into the next decade, a little film called Elmer Gantry (1960) dropped. In a career full of gems, Lancaster’s performance in the hit film as a morally-compromised southern con-man was his most celebrated piece of acting yet, coming as he neared age 50 and was supposed to be aging out of leading roles. Instead, he proved that wasn’t going anywhere, and that his unmatched charisma on the screen was stubbornly timeless. If anyone doubted his staying power, he had the hardware to prove them wrong, with his performance in Elmer Gantry winning an Academy Award, Golden Globe, and a New York Film Critics Circle Award.

INEVITABLE TWILIGHT:

As he grew older and the offers for leading man roles began to finally slow down, Lancaster increased his focus on producing, and even gave directing a few tries. But make no mistake, his acting career was far from over as he defied the odds by continuing to score memorable roles as he kept getting older and older. 

Because he wasn’t already successful enough, he kicked off the 1970s with an ensemble role in the disaster flick Airport, a bonafide pop culture phenomenon which would prove to be his most commercially successful film ever, eclipsing a robust career full of hits. He saw steady work throughout the decade,  embracing classic Tough Guy archetypes in a number of Westerns and war films, among others.

But he couldn’t continue prospering in the 1980s, right? This is a guy who debuted in the mid-1940s, after all, and Hollywood is known to mercilessly eat aging stars alive. But this isn’t just any classic film actor. We’re talking about Burt Lancaster. Feeding on doubt like a vampire, in 1980, an aging Lancaster co-starred in Atlantic City with a young Susan Sarandon. The result? A pat on the back for impressively beating the odds and remaining relevant? Kudos for failing to embarrass himself in a new era of Hollywood? Please. How about yet another Best Actor Academy Award nomination at the age of 67 for a winning performance that few others could’ve pulled off?

Lancaster would spend the remainder of the decade in bit parts and supporting roles, making what was then a step down to tackle television roles. He still managed to get fairly steady work though, and there’s no shame in that. Just when you thought he had finally faded away into irrelevance, in 1989, he scored a supporting role in the Oscar-nominated baseball tearjerker Field of Dreams. The film was a huge commercial success, and Lancaster's memorable performance as Moonlight Graham was a stand-out role that helped expose the star to a new generation of moviegoers, keeping him relevant well into his fourth decade of stardom.

Seemingly the only thing that could stop his prolific acting career would be his health, a concern of anyone in their late 70s. It’s a battle no one wins; and in the early 1990s, he suffered a stroke, presumably just before he was able to deliver another knockout performance in a breakout new role. He would never be the same, and his acting career was suddenly a thing of the past. He died a few years later at age 80, continuing a trend of our Tough Guys who showed real-life grit with their impressive longevity (the only exception to this trend I can think of is Humphrey Bogart, who died relatively young at 57). Lancaster left behind a prolific body of work of over 60 classic films spanning over nearly 45 years of super stardom. 

If there’s one thing you can say about Burt Lancaster, whether it was through luck, talent, or a combination of the two, no matter what, the man just couldn’t lose! The world, let alone Hollywood, may never again see another winning streak quite like the one that Mister Muscles and Teeth rode to stardom, success and beyond.

NOTABLE ACCOMPLISHMENTS:

Impressive four total Best Actor Academy Award nominations and one win.

Five total Golden Globe Award nominations, including a nod for one of his final performances, a television adaptation of Phantom of the Opera (1990) in which he was 77 years old. He managed to take home the Golden Globe just once.

Too many acting award nominations and wins to list.

Consistently ranked by numerous outlets, including the American Film Institute, as one of the greatest movie stars of all time.

FUN TOUGH GUY FACT:

Known for his political activism for liberal causes, he marched on Washington alongside Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in 1963, flying back from a film set in Europe in order to participate.