As everyone must know, this is the end of Movember. And as hundreds as heretofore hirsutely adorned gentlemen prepare their razors to eliminate those hard-won lip jackets that we call ‘mustaches’ and the Victorians called ‘mustachios’, I think we need to take a moment to salute those men for whom every month is Movember.
There have been many great cinematic mustaches over the years. William Powell, Clark Gable and Errol Flynn made the pencil-stache dashing; Basil Rathbone made it villainous. Charlie Chaplin’s mustache was great, until it was unfairly maligned by Hitler. Tom Selleck obviously sports the quintessential mustache. But of all the mustaches, there is one mustache that can truly be called great; one mustache that exceeds all mustaches, that should have a screen credit of its own. That is the grandest mustache of all. I am speaking, of course, of Sam Elliott’s mustache.
Sam Elliott would be a badass all by himself, but the mustache adds that extra layer – that flavor, if you will – of badassery and down-home charm. It is a mustache of great power and prestige and has adorned the face of Sam Elliott for many many years. I firmly believe that the reason Elliott dies in Road House is because his mustache was not in full force. It has been there, through thick and thin, for years. It charmed Katherine Ross in The Legacy and Conagher. It pronounced on the future of The Dude in The Big Lebowski. It rode the range with Wyatt Earp in Tombstone. Although it has appeared in many films with rival mustaches – Tom Selleck’s in The Shadow Riders, just about everybody in Tombstone – it has always held its own like a good mustache should.
So, take a moment. Bask in the glory of the greatest mustache and know that it will always be there to defend right from wrong, to protect the needy, to guard the homestead. It is, without doubt, the best of all possible mustaches.