THE JOURNAL

Mr Burt Reynolds in Dan August, 1970. Photograph by ABC Photo Archives/Getty Images
Remembering the old-school man’s man of Hollywood, an icon of 1970s masculinity in all its hirsute glory.
In 1972, the first of two Pioneer space probes was launched from Cape Canaveral, Florida. Sent to monitor Jupiter, in early 1973 Pioneer 10 became the first human-built object to traverse the asteroid belt. In November of that year, it began transmitting images of the gas giant from a range of 25,000,000km, later passing within 132,252km of the planet, and going on to record the far reaches of the Solar System. Contact with the probe was eventually lost in 2003, at a distance of 12 billion kilometres from Earth, when its radio transmitter ran out of power.
Famously, both of the Pioneer probes featured gold-anodized aluminium plaques depicting both the origin of the vessel and anatomical details of the species that sent it. Should extraterrestrial life encounter either, they’d be given a map to where we live and greeted by an image of a woman with a Barbie-like lack of genitalia (its explicit depiction was considered too obscene to be approved by Nasa) and a naked man waving.
If Nasa had not been preoccupied with censoring female sexual organs for the benefit of aliens and had instead paid attention to what else was going on in 1972, it might have chosen an entirely different representation of mankind. Released the same year, the film Deliverance provided a template for masculinity that was to reach far into the following decades. If the Renaissance had Mr Leonardo Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, the 1970s had Mr Burt Reynolds.
Following his breakout performance in Deliverance, Mr Reynolds went on to star in more than 100 films across a half-century-long career – including era-defining turns in Smokey And The Bandit, The Cannonball Run, Boogie Nights and, er, All Dogs Go to Heaven, as well as lending his voice to the Grand Theft Auto video game franchise. But more than that, he set the bar for how a man should be. If Nasa really was to capture the pinnacle of an entire gender at that moment in time, they should’ve had Mr Reynolds frozen in carbonite like Han Solo in The Empire Strikes Back – a role that, along with playing James Bond, Mr Reynolds was man enough to turn down.
Generations have all grown up in his shadow, maybe even his five o’clock shadow. And while we still have an extensive body of work to dip back into, the man himself will be greatly missed. Below, we have singled out three of his looks that every one of us can learn from.
If in doubt, go classic

Mr Burt Reynolds and Ms Françoise Hardy at the film premiere of Grand Prix, New York, 1966. Photograph by Paul Slade/Paris Match/Getty Images
Given the breadth of his back catalogue, you’d imagine that Mr Reynolds was no stranger to both film premieres and award ceremonies – he won both an Emmy and two Golden Globes, and was nominated for an Oscar for Boogie Nights. Practice makes perfect, they say, but even early on in his career – as shown at a movie premiere in New York in 1966 (above) – Mr Reynolds had his look nailed. He might be remembered for the wide, open Barrymore collar shirts of his 1970s peak, but he certainly knew how to handle a bow tie. The lesson: master the basics first.

Embrace colour, and know how to use it

Mr Burt Reynolds in Los Angeles, 1981. Photograph by Walter McBride/Camera Press
The typical man’s wardrobe is a sea of navies, with maybe the occasional bit of black, grey or white bobbing about in the swell. Not so, Mr Reynolds. In an era that played with chocolatey brown tones, he was the Willy Wonka. Here he is with a tobacco jacket, to match the fat cigars he was known to indulge in. Beneath it, an open shirt providing a vibrant pop of red. (And beneath that, a thatch thicker than the woods of the Georgian wilderness.) While few could get away with having that many buttons undone, a bright hue, when teamed with more sober but complementary colours, is something that every man should learn how to pull off.

Weaponise your accessories

Mr Burt Reynolds and Ms Sally Field in Smokey and the Bandit II, 1980. Photograph by The Moviestore Collection Ltd
As with most things in life, dressing is all about the details: to do it well, you need to get them right. For some, accessories are something to be applied with subtlety, so as not to distract from the ensemble itself. However, when you are bestowed with the hair follicles of a demi-god, a pocket square is going to have to try that little bit harder to get some attention. Above, Mr Reynolds sports perhaps his trademark adornment – the moustache. More than any film he made, it is the one thing most of us will remember him by. It might not be everyone’s choice of facial hair, but you suspect it underlines the importance of the words that come out of the mouth it sits above. Certainly, his Smokey And The Bandit II co-star Ms Sally Field seems to be focused on it rather than the risks – the wide-brimmed hat, generous neckline and what could be double denim – Mr Reynolds has taken elsewhere with his outfit.
