Clint Eastwood and the Monkey: What Really Happened to Clyde

Clint Eastwood and the Monkey: What Really Happened to Clyde

If you were around in the late 1970s, you remember the posters. It was the ultimate "what on earth?" moment in cinema history. There was Clint Eastwood—the man who had just spent a decade squinting through cigar smoke and leveling .44 Magnums at punks—leaning against a truck with a massive, shaggy orangutan.

The movie was Every Which Way But Loose.

Most critics at the time thought Clint had finally lost his marbles. His own agents begged him not to do it. They said it would tank his career. Instead, it became one of the biggest box office hits of 1978, second only to Grease and Superman. But behind the "Right turn, Clyde" jokes and the beer-drinking primate antics, there’s a story that’s a lot more complicated—and honestly, a bit darker—than most fans realize.

The Primate Who Outshined Dirty Harry

The "monkey" in question was actually a three-year-old orangutan named Manis. Manis played Clyde, the constant companion to Philo Beddoe, a bare-knuckle brawler and truck driver wandering through the American West.

Philo and Clyde were a package deal. They shared Oreos, drank beer (well, the characters did), and slept in the same room. It was absurd. It was silly. People loved it. Manis was so good that he often stole the spotlight from Eastwood himself. Clint, usually the most imposing presence on any set, didn't seem to mind. He actually praised Manis as one of the most natural actors he’d ever worked with.

One thing people often get wrong: they think it was the same ape in both movies. It wasn't.

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By the time the sequel, Any Which Way You Can, rolled around in 1980, Manis had hit a growth spurt. He was too big. Orangutans grow fast, and a full-grown male is a terrifyingly strong animal that doesn't exactly take direction well. So, for the second film, the production brought in two new orangutans named Buddha and C.J.

The Rumors and the Reality of the Abuse

This is where the story takes a turn. If you dig into the history of Clint Eastwood and his primate co-stars, you’ll eventually hit a wall of pretty upsetting allegations. For years, rumors circulated that the apes were mistreated on set.

Specifically, a lot of the heat came from a book titled Visions of Caliban by Dale Peterson and Jane Goodall. The book alleged that Buddha, the ape from the second movie, was beaten by his trainer with an axe handle to keep him "docile." There were claims that the animal was punished for stealing doughnuts from the craft service table.

It's a heavy accusation.

However, the facts are a bit tangled. Some sources suggest Buddha died of a cerebral hemorrhage shortly after filming. Others, like makeup artist William Munns, have disputed the severity of these claims, suggesting the stories were exaggerated or based on hearsay that started with a National Enquirer article in the mid-80s.

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What about Manis, the original Clyde? Luckily, his story seems less tragic. After his stint with Clint, he went back to his life as a performer in a Las Vegas act. He lived for years afterward, appearing in other projects like Cannonball Run II.

Why the Movie Still Matters (Even if it’s Weird)

You’ve gotta wonder why a guy like Clint Eastwood, at the height of his "tough guy" fame, decided to make a movie with a primate.

Basically, he was bored.

He wanted to do something that his kids could see. He wanted to break the mold of the stoic killer. And honestly? It worked. The chemistry between Philo and Clyde felt real because, on set, Eastwood treated the animal with genuine curiosity. He reportedly told interviewers that if you gave the ape half a beer, he’d be "as loose as anything around."

Every Which Way But Loose captured a specific blue-collar, honky-tonk vibe of the late 70s San Fernando Valley that doesn't exist anymore. It was a world of country-western bars like the Palomino Club, motorcycle gangs like the Black Widows, and the simple bond between a man and his (very large) pet.

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What We Learned from the Clyde Era

Looking back from 2026, the idea of using live great apes for "slapstick" comedy feels like a relic of a different age. We don't do that anymore. Modern films use CGI or sophisticated animatronics because we’ve realized that training great apes for entertainment is inherently problematic.

But for a brief window in Hollywood, Clint Eastwood and a shaggy orange ape were the biggest duo on the planet.

If you're looking to revisit these films or learn more about the history of animal actors, here are a few things to keep in mind:

  • Watch for the subtle stuff: In the first film, pay attention to the hand signals. Manis was incredibly responsive to his trainers, and you can sometimes spot the cues if you look closely.
  • Check the credits: Notice the shift in trainers between the 1978 and 1980 films. This shift is where most of the controversy regarding the treatment of the animals originates.
  • Context is key: These movies were part of a "trucker movie" craze (think Smokey and the Bandit). They weren't meant to be high art, just high-octane fun.

The legacy of "Clint and the monkey" is a mix of box office triumph and a sobering lesson on the ethics of animal stardom. It’s a reminder that even the toughest guys in Hollywood have a soft spot—and that sometimes, the best way to win over an audience is just to let an orangutan give a biker the finger.

To get the full picture of this era, you should compare the filming conditions of Every Which Way But Loose with modern animal welfare standards established by the American Humane Association. Understanding the evolution of the "No Animals Were Harmed" disclaimer provides a lot of perspective on why Clyde’s story ended when it did.