My take on a lot of this is that it depends on the times...an obvious truism.You can go into any period of movie making and even when there's no deliberate attempt at explicit politics, nevertheless, politics can rear its ugly head years later when the issues and battle lines shift and something in a plot or character, all of a sudden finds itself sitting on a fault line. We seem to be in a period where fault lines are deeper than other times, but even that changes all the time.
Blackburn writes, "one of the marks of an ethical climate may be hostility to moralizing, which is somehow out of place or bad form." Likewise, in art, there are periods in which it is bad form politically to mention the political and other ages in which it is politically correct to be very political, even in a story which does not appear to invite it. But we're always doing it, implicitly or explicitly, either on the front burner or back burner.
Kuhn, writing about scientific revolutions marks the distinction between normal science and revolutionary science. In the former, matters are rather boring and people are adding footnotes to an established theory-set or "paradigm." In the latter, science is tumultuous, as the foundations of the present worldview are in conflict, the new view clashing with the old. The same is true in art. In times where a culture has a, more or less, settled worldview, change is more incremental and there is a sense of continuity, values are agreed upon, so they can safely operate in the background. In times of cultural unrest, on the other hand, there will be more explicit messaging, on the nose (shovel to the head) preaching, ad hoc emplotment, subtext-becoming-text, background-becoming-foreground.
One of our current cultural stereotypes is that thing called "toxic masculinity". In other periods, it was a heroic, masked hero, using his six-shooter to being peace to a lawless West, or a cop who brings in the bad guy by whatever means are necessary. It was heroic then, "toxic" now. Toxic even extends to masculinity itself, which is, in some views, a hormonal disorder.
Indeed, the reconfiguration of masculinity is fascinating to watch. There is still a space for it as a kind of "guard dog" or "trusted minion" -- the powerful male who isn't in charge, but who is summoned to protect (attack!). A strong man, but a good man. A reluctant hero. A hero who feels guilty about his old toxic ways. An ally.
We saw this pattern in old Western movies as well. The potent male of the west, the gunslinger, would have to move out of the way for the domesticating influence of civilization moving west. John Wayne shoots Liberty Valance, but it is the civilized (more rational, but less coercively capable) Jimmy Stewart who gets the credit and who carries society forward.
Civilization has always been a process of domestication, of making man fit for society. Perhaps the end of the process is to simply be done with man entirely? But will
Homo-Wall-E be the soldier we really want to call up when we fight the next war?
We spent long centuries in an uncomfortable relation with the feminine, the Whore-Madonna complex. The womb of chaos, productive of life, "seducing" with "emotions," but threatening careful masculine order and rationality.
"Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em!" The "solution" for femininity was "domestication." Man in charge, woman a bit like a child, cherished and protected, but never entirely trusted. Today, it's the men who are fundamentally suspect.When it all fits the fan, everyone wants Big Daddy to show up with overpowering violence. When times are peaceful, however, it feels like one has a Pit Bull (a bad dog) in the home (can we really trust the breed?).
The coming decades will wrestle with "the problem of men," and it will be interesting to see the knots writers tie their plots into trying to thread the needle. The easiest way to enjoy a classic "strong man," will be to just punt on the problem, and substitute a "strong woman."