The Magnificent Seven: A Metaphor for the Consultant's Life?

THROWBACK THURSDAY

Last night I was watching The Constant Gardener, featuring Ralph Fiennes and Rachel Weisz in a compelling drama set in Africa, when at 100 minutes into the film the DVD freezes. Not able to watch the rest of the film. Bad.

I reached into a stack of DVDs from library and grabbed The Magnificent Seven, a film classic. It’s a Western packed with big names – Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen, Eli Wallach, Charles Bronson, James Coburn and others – and a memorable film score that everyone in my generation recognizes in an instant. Essentially the film is a remake of a Japanese story of heroes protecting common people, Kurasawa’s The Seven Samurai, which few of us were aware of when we were young.

I remember as a kid thinking James Coburn was just so cool. And the heroic opening with Yul Brynner and Steve McQueen putting their lives on the line to bury a Negro in the cemetery on Boot Hill takes you to the epitome of cool.

There are a lot of great moments in the film, though. The seven men who come to rescue the Mexican villagers from the cruel band of outlaws led by Wallach (Calvera) are hired guns, men who have put their lives on the line before, though usually for a reward. In this case, the reward is integrity and honor.

One of the great lines in the film is delivered by Bronson when three of the boys from the village express admiration for his courage, and contempt for their fathers’ lack thereof. Bronson verbally chastens the boys saying that the burden of responsibility their peasant fathers bear for nothing more than love for their families, whom they could easily abandon, shows a greater courage than he has ever shown by carrying a gun, having no family and no responsibilities.

Afterwards, I began to think about how the consulting industry is something akin to these hired guns. Each has a different specialty, a different personality, and in the end, when the job is done, a different destiny. There is an appeal to that fly-away freedom that gives the appearance of being greener grass for many. But the reality, by this film’s end, four have been shot dead. And one decides to remain in the village.

In one scene the youngest of the seven is blathering about the thrill of it all when he is brought up short by Steve McQueen’s hard bitten observations about the realities of life on the road. The youth declares to Brynner, with admiration, “Your gun has gotten you everything you have. Isn’t that true?” Brynner looks up, ever the realist, “Everything?” Then McQueen outlines this “everything” that he has gained from being a hired gun. He knows 200 bartenders by name. “Rented rooms you’ve lived in, 500. Meals you eat in hash hounds, a thousand. Home none, wife, none. Kids… none. Prospects zero.” McQueen scratches the sheen off the veneer with realities about life on the road, lessons learned the hard way.

Many consultants, superbly talented with a panoply of tools and weapons, may lack the ability to remain for the long haul in a structured and potentially boring commitment. Others have personal issues and avoid working things out by constantly staying on the move. Still others have great social skills but suffer from wanderlust and limited attention spans. Some see rainbows with bags of gold at the end everywhere they look. Some are simply not cut out for unexpected circumstances, get cut down from behind in the heat of battle. And some ride off into the sunset, with jubilant villagers writing songs about the great things they have done. All these can be recognized in The Magnificent Seven.

At the end of the day, Charles Bronson’s words are the ones that resonate most fully for me. It’s lonely on the road, and there is value in being able to get rooted in a place where you can bloom. It’s a good reminder though, too, that it takes more courage to stay than many people realize.

Whether the road or the office, if you make your choice with your eyes open it will be better for you.

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THIS BLOG POST ORIGINALLY APPEARED IN AUGUST 2008

Port of New York

"Hey, do you want to make a deal?" ~Bob Dylan

One of the things that set Dylan apart when he emerged on the scene was his grittiness. At a time when the airwaves were alive with sweet little love ditties and cheery faced folk singers, Dylan approached subjects too nakedly and unsettling. This line, "Hey, do you want to make a deal," from Like a Rolling Stone has a context. It's cold. Like the scene in Ironweed where Streep, reduced to being a street tramp, has to produce a sexual favor to get a needed place to sleep out of the cold... in an abandoned car. It'ugly, but it is an indignity experienced by women on a near daily basis in this world.

Film noir was a style of Hollywood film in the 40's and 50's that sought to expose and exploit that dark side of life. Themes were ambiguous, often not pretty, and occasionally considered scandalous. I just finished watching Port of New York, a movie about smuggling drugs into the Big Apple. Yul Brynner stars as the lead bad guy, the top of the food chain. Ever smooth, careful, calculating and ruthless. He's even got hair.

An old fashioned black and white, the film opens with a narrative along the lines of the Dragnet television show, something akin to "This is the city." The narrator has that serious deadpan, no funny business approach, implying a serious topic is being discussed. In this instance, narcotics being smuggled into New York through its ports. It's a good B-movie for entertainment value, but what a contrast to films on this same theme to films of a more recent vintage. All good guys and bad guys are in suits and ties. You never see anything related to the effects of the drugs themselves. When the final sting occurs, what a small quantity of dope to be getting in such a lather about. The entire shipment was in a satchel.

French Connection with Gene Hackman broke new ground for earthiness and realism. Same theme, intensely different.

But today's drug trade films really bump it up. American Gangster with Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe shows the whole drug scene with such vividness it blinds. Blow, with Johnny Depp, likewise shows a full panorama and puts the drug world into a perspective. Yes, there is glamour for some but at great expense in human suffering. Customers of the drug dealers are harrowingly desperate. One must have a cold ruthlessness in the heart to be a player in that game.

Which leads us to Anton Chigurh, the ultimate personification of evil, and relentless pursuer in No Country For Old Men. A brute? Not quite the right word. Disturbing? Definitely. He is a by-product of the times and someone you don't want to mess with. I've encountered his kind a few times, people with no conscious, dangerous and unpredictable. You meet these people when you're somewhere you don't belong. And they are out there.

For a "dark" movie, Port of New York was pretty clean and easy, a short, tight little package of 82 minutes. Like Scorcese's The Departed, the plot involves placing a cop in the inner circle of the gang that controls the ports. It's hard to get too emotionally entangled in the film because it is more about plot than character, unlike Gangster where you actually feel empathic toward both Crowe and Washington because you understand their motivations, understand where they were each coming from.

What's your favorite in the oldie from Hollywood's film noir school? Double Indemnity is a classic that still holds. I had a friend who liked D.O.A. What about you?

The Magnificent Seven, Consultants

Last night I was watching The Constant Gardener, featuring Ralph Fiennes and Rachel Weisz in a compelling drama set in Africa, when at 100 minutes into the film the DVD freezes. Not able to watch the rest of the film. Bad.

I reached into a stack of DVDs from library and grabbed The Magnificent Seven, a film classic. It’s a film packed with big names – Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen, Eli Wallach, Charles Bronson, James Coburn and others – and a memorable film score that everyone in my generation recognizes in an instant. Essentially the film is a remake of a Japanese story of heroes protecting common people, Kurasawa’s The Seven Samurai.

I remember as a kid thinking James Coburn was just so cool. And the heroic opening with Yul Brynner and Steve McQueen putting their lives on the line to bury a Negro in the cemetery on Boot Hill takes you to the epitome of cool.

There are a lot of great moments in the film, though. The seven men who come to rescue the Mexican villagers from the cruel band of outlaws led by Wallach (Calvera) are hired guns, men who have put their lives on the line before, though usually for a reward. In this case, the reward is integrity and honor.

One of the great lines in the film is delivered by Bronson when three of the boys from the village express admiration for his courage, and contempt for their fathers’ lack thereof. Bronson verbally chastens the boys saying that the burden of responsibility their peasant fathers bear for nothing more than love for their families, whom they could easily abandon, shows a greater courage than he has ever shown by carrying a gun, having no family and no responsibilities.

Afterwards, I began to think about how the consulting industry is something akin to these hired guns. Each has a different specialty, a different personality, and in the end, when the job is done, a different destiny. There is an appeal to that fly-away freedom that gives the appearance of being greener grass for many. But the reality, by this film’s end, four have been shot dead. And one decides to remain in the village.

In one scene the youngest of the seven is blathering about the thrill of it all when he is brought up short by Steve McQueen’s hard bitten observations about the realities of life on the road. The youth declares to Brynner, with admiration, “Your gun has gotten you everything you have. Isn’t that true?” Brynner looks up, ever the realist, “Everything?” Then McQueen outlines this “everything” that he has gained from being a hired gun. He knows 200 bartenders by name. “Rented rooms you’ve lived in, 500. Meals you eat in hash hounds, a thousand. Home none, wife, none. Kids… none. Prospects zero.” McQueen scratches the sheen off the veneer with realities about life on the road, lessons learned the hard way.

Many consultants are superbly talented with a panoply of tools and weapons, but may lack the ability to remain for the long haul in a structured and potentially boring commitment. Others have personal issues and avoid working things out by constantly being on the move. Still others have great social skills but suffer from wanderlust and limited attention spans. Some see rainbows with bags of gold at the end everywhere they look. Some are simply not cut out for unexpected circumstances, get cut down from behind in the heat of battle. And some ride off into the sunset, with jubilant villagers writing songs about the great things they have done. All these can be recognized in the Magnificent Seven.

At the end of the day, Charles Bronson’s words are the ones that resonate most fully for me. It’s lonely on the road, and there is value in being able to get rooted in a place where you can bloom. It’s a good reminder, too, that it takes more courage to stay than many people realize.

Whether the road or the office, if you make your choice with your eyes open it will be better for you.