Richard Gere – Robert Taylor . . . Beautiful Men, Similar Personas

There seems an unwritten belief about Hollywood that says good-looking men can’t be good actors. Handsome = mediocrity. For the sake of this not-so-scientific idea, I’m comparinge the career of Robert Taylor, heartthrob of Hollywood’s classic era whose face graced the screen from the 1930s through to his death in the 1960s, with the career of Richard Gere, heartthrob of the 1980s – 1990s, a man whose career continues strong and he stars in today’s market in Nights In Rodanthe.

What can we possibly see as comparable between these totally different stars? Male beauty. Both men started in the public eye as pretty boys. In fact, Robert Taylor hated being called that, yet he was so physically attractive it was hard not to peg something so obvious.

Richard Gere really came on the scene in American Gigolo in 1980. He’d had other parts but that one put him, and his almost-too-perfect handsomeness, on the map. And when he walked onscreen, women everywhere couldn’t take their eyes off him. If he could act, it didn’t necessarily matter. Viewers paid scant attention to anything but his appearance.

Though Robert Taylor was signed to a MGM contract and was in films since 1934, his first truly memorable performance, the one that put him on the map, was in 1936 in Camille with the legendary Greta Garbo. It was a romance, and he played a beautiful hero to Garbo’s tragic heroine.

With storylines for both men intentionally highlighting their sexual masculinity, the fact that they held their own as actors, and then some, received much less attention. Who cared if they could, or could not, act? That wasn’t the point.

As their careers progressed, Taylor and Gere were given opportunity to show some skill. Both took each possible chance and ran with it. Taylor did a film every year, and then some, from his start in 1934 until his breakout performance in Waterloo Bridge in 1940, when he finally received critical acclaim for playing a lovesick British officer on the eve of World War II. He elicited not only the romantic element, but also gave a stellar performance as a soldier during a dangerous time, a man who could never again see his one true love, a figure of historical importance in a world rife with a sense of the unknown.

Comparatively, Richard Gere showed he was more than just a pretty face when he starred in An Officer and a Gentleman in 1982. It was a meaty role, giving Gere a chance to exhibit a range of emotions and talent . . . from a raw young man full of attitude to a polished, well-skilled Navy officer. The span of the character’s growth fell in line with the growth of the man who played him. Clearly, Richard Gere gave a performance which proved the naysayers wrong – confusing them all the more.

This is a parallel he shares, again, with Robert Taylor. After Taylor’s rendition of Roy Cronin in Waterloo Bridge, critics had to rush to form new, different judgments. Reviews were quite favorable. Taylor was flexing his acting muscle – even MGM magnate Louis B. Mayer was vocally approving, and Taylor himself felt it was his best performance ever. He was maturing, finding his own voice, and it was starting to show.

But he was still so good-looking, and that followed him throughout his long-running career. It was a fact which only started to sideline his talent once he aged to the point where his skin showed creases, his voice took on an edge, his body shifted a bit in its movements, and his expressions exhibited the ironies of mature experience.

Richard Gere is now a year older than Robert Taylor was when he died. While they certainly don’t look alike, they share qualities that followed through in each life at similar times. It took Robert Taylor decades to finally be accepted as a true actor and not just that pretty face. He died at 58 in 1969, a tragedy not only because of his relatively-young age but also because he was finally coming into his own. He was breaking out of the young, lover boy image and being allowed a chance to actually be comfortable in his talent.

Gere is at that point now. He’s still strikingly attractive, and probably will be until the day he leaves the earth. That’s nothing but good genes. He is, however, showing his age in a way that accepts the process. The lines in his face have deepened. His hair is totally silver. His movements are no longer as strident.

And talent can now, finally, shine alongside that mature handsomeness, rather than take a backseat to it. Talent must be bold, requiring effort, practice, diligence, training, and true ability. Gere shows how he has matured and pulled way ahead of those days nearly 30 years ago when he hit the big screen with his blinding good looks. Today, as a man of almost 60 years, he has finally and rightfully earned his place as a part of America’s cinema history . . . not just as a pretty face but a seasoned and accomplished actor.

Richard Gere is in good company . . . he and Robert Taylor have proven that a handsome man can rise above physical appearance to bring in topnotch, memorable artistic experiences. The lesson here? Don’t let good genes stop you from looking beyond the façade and into the soul of the artist himself.