Luke
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CibbuanoMarlon Brando: A Guide to his Film Roles (Part 1 - the 1950s)
January 20th 2010 12:00
Here is the first part of the most complete possible guide I could write of Brando's filmed output. I think the only acting credits I've missed are Brando's 1949 debut in a half hour episode of the now-lost TV series Actor's Studio (footage from this show has been missing for decades so it's unlikely I'll ever see it) and an appearance in a 1950 TV show called Come Out Fighting (which isn't even listed on IMDB.com in any way, shape or form, so it's unlikely I'll ever get to see that either). I've been working towards writing this guide for a while and now that I've seen all 43 of his existing screen credits I can share my thoughts on his career.
Ken (The Men)
The Men (1950) Directed by Fred Zinneman
This is one of those rather earnest 1950s social conscience films. Brando had already made a name for himself as an energetic and groundbreaking theatre actor in plays such as A Streetcar Named Desire, Candida and A Flag is Born, so he had his pick of film roles when Hollywood came calling. He chose this movie out of a whole bunch because he thought the script was very well-written. In The Men he plays Ken, a young WWII soldier struck down in the prime of his life by a bullet to the spine. The Men follows his journey from hopeless bedcase to an independent life in a wheelchair... Brando is absolutely electrifying, he's so realistic and seperate to the acting conventions of the time that he pop-rivets your eyeballs to the screen. As Brando was unknown at the time of filming he was able to to check in to a Californian hospital and pretend to be an actual paraplegic... for three weeks he co-inhabited with real, crippled war veterans and studied their attitudes, learning foremost that they despised pity, and so he brought this to the film as his central motivation when performing the script. Ken is an angry young man who borders on suicidal, and Brando plays his arc in an unpredictable but wholly believable fashion.
Stanley Kowalski (A Streetcar Named Desire)
A Streetcar Named Desire (1951) Directed by Elia Kazan
This is the movie that catapaulted Brando into fame and fortune, and got him his first Academy Award nomination. For many people it remains the quintessential classic Brando role, and by this point Brando himself was happy enough with the filmmaking (and the money attached to it) to turn his back on the theatre for good. Stanley Kowalski is written as a sweat-dripping, callously masculine brute and Brando was certainly not what playwright Tennessee Williams had in mind when creating the role. I've read that Anthony Quinn's less ambiguous and more animalistic take on the role in the theatre was closer to what the text required, but no one could ever argue that Brando didn't make film history when he sauntered into the frame as Stanley - a complexly sensitive take on a dominating and primal force of nature. Brando's work in this role was a reflection of the complicated nature of people and key to his own philosophy on acting (a philosophy that would remain through all his performances, no matter how little he seemed to care in the later years) - that people are neither inherently good or evil, and that even the most villainous role should be tempered by a realistic helping of humanity. Brando's performance as Stanley isn't a sympathetic role by any stretch of the imagination, but his every appearance attracts the viewer like a moth to a candle, and is rightly deserving of it's place in the history of screen acting. He manages to remain true to the character's innate violence and misogyny whilst displaying an unexpected sensitivity that goes some way towards explaining Stella's sexual attraction to her monstrous and controlling husband. Brando and controversial director Elia Kazan would work together on two more films.
Emiliano Zapata (Viva Zapata!)
Viva Zapata! (1952) Directed by Elia Kazan
Now that Brando had an Oscar nomination under his belt he probably felt a bit more comfortable with branching out and displaying his diversity as an actor. Viva Zapata! was a pet project of Elia Kazan and was written by celebrated novelist John Steinbeck, and Brando agreed to jump on board as a favour to Kazan. He gives a rather dignified and unshowy performance despite the ethnic prosphetics and makeup he wears (apparently they put things in his nostrils to make them wider), and he affects a light Mexican accent (light enough to convince in the role, but not so heavy as to invite ridicule). Brando got his second Oscar nomination for his work as the revolutionary hero Zapata, though it was his co-star Anthony Quinn who won for Best Supporting Actor as the brother of his character. Brando had little care for the business side of acting at this point, so when he signed on to play Zapata he was only dimly aware of actually signing a two-picture contract with the Studio. Brando delighted in making the studio man sweat by signing in disappearing ink, but it would eventually be the Studio who had the last laugh in this case (see entry for Desiree).
Marc Antony (Julius Caesar)
Julius Caesar (1953) Directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz
Brando didn't think much of his work in this film, later believing himself to be too inexperienced and uncultured to have done Shakespeare alongside people like John Gielgud and James Mason. However, it's not an opinion many people shared as he still managed to get himself a third consecutive Best Actor Oscar nomination for his heartfelt portrayal of the loyal Marc Antony. It's not really the lead role in the film, most of Brando's performance is focused into the famous "Friends, Romans, countrymen" speech, but he delivers his lines so naturalistically that he doesn't feel out of place at all. It's easy to see why people took notice - up until this point a lot of film reviewers had been critical of Brando's style of speaking in film, not seeming to grasp that the mumbling was supposed to convey a style of speech more in tune with the real world - so when he tackled Shakespeare and managed to do it both eloquently and unaffectedly, it proved to many of the naysayers that Brando was capable of a more oratory style, it was just that he chose (for the most part) to reject it in favour of sounding like a real person when he acted.
Johnny (The Wild One)
The Wild One (1953) Directed by Laslo Benedek
Whilst this probably remains one of Brando's most iconic roles, the film itself hasn't really aged all that well and a lot of it comes across as quite cheesy now. The Wild One is very much a product of the 1950s, tapping into a social hysteria related to motorcycle gangs with a message that seeks to villify the biker subculture without alienating the film's youthful target audience. As a result it's neither really here nor there, and seems a bit over the top. Brando does a good job of embodying the anti-authoritarian streak in his character and kind of turns Johnny into an anti-hero for the times (as opposed to the figure of warning the film probably aimed for him to be). His lazy-sounding delivery of rebellious dialogue (lines that would've been shouted and wrung out for all they're worth if put in the hands of a less innovative talent) seals this characterisation as one that he would forever be associated with, right down the line to films like The Fugitive Kind and The Night of the Following Day.
Terry Molloy (On the Waterfront)
On The Waterfront (1954) Directed by Elia Kazan
This is the film that cemented Brando's immortality as a screen legend and won him his first Best Actor Oscar (incidentally, Brando later lost the trophy only for it to turn up at an auction in London. The auctioner claimed that Brando had given it to them as a present). He plays Terry Molloy, a rather dim dockworker who threw away a career as a successful boxer when he agreed to take a dive on the advice of his brother Charlie (Rod Steiger). Brando gives a realistically mannered performance with roughened, slightly punch-drunk speech, working class body language, and a scar across his right eyebrow. A lot of the idealogy behind the performance was a direct line of justification on behalf of director Kazan, who had recently sold out his colleagues to the House of UnAmerican Activities - so with this in mind some of the film's themes might rub you up the wrong way, though Brando cuts through this politicising by making things as simple as possible and playing Molloy as simply a broken failure who takes a chance to reclaim some dignity and respect. The part of Terry Molloy was actually written for John Garfield originally but he died before the film could be made. Kazan wanted Frank Sinatra for the part after that, and also courted Montgomery Clift, but due to Brando's recent box office and critical successes the studio used it's clout to get Kazan to bring Brando on board instead. On The Waterfront has a memorable final scene where Brando gets the absolute crap smacked out of him - starting the great Brando tradition of copping a beating (see also The Chase and One Eyed Jacks).
Napoleon Bonaparte (Desiree)
Desiree (1954) Directed by Henry Koster
Brando was strongarmed into doing this film as part of the two-picture deal he signed for Viva Zapata! He was originally asked to do a film called The Egyptian (a sword and sandals epic set in Ancient Egypt) but flat out refused, and ended up doing Desiree as a compromise. The film is based on a popular novel about Napoleon's first fiance, Desiree, who goes on to become a lady of his court. Brando's role is a leading one, but it's viewed through the eyes of Desiree so a good deal of interesting stuff about Napoleon gets left out in favour of more trivial politics involving his right hand General and his sisters. As a result it's a fairly mediocre movie, though Brando does the best he can with what he's got. He very much looks the business but wisely doesn't attempt a french accent, instead opting to adopt a clipped neutral-ish British tone in order to fit in with the rest of the cast. He has a few great scenes where he acts out Napoleon's frustrations and indignance but aside from this it's a pretty dull movie. The very idea of Brando playing Napoleon should've made for cinematic gold... the fact that it doesn't pan out that way should tell you something about the quality of this movie.
Sky Masterson (Guys and Dolls)
Guys and Dolls (1955) Directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz
Brando's first foray into light comedy territory comes in the shape of Sky Masterson, a no good gangster and gambler who accepts the challenge of warming up a rather frosty missionary (who in turn is intent on ridding him of sin). Brando was admittedly not much of a singer but opted to do Guys and Dolls instead of a fourth Elia Kazan movie, East of Eden (Brando's part in that film went to James Dean instead), presumably because it made a break from all the more dramatic roles he had become associated with. Brando's singing was so bad that he had to record the songs over and over again, enough times so that the sound engineers could cut and paste various notes and words into the shapes of the songs, and then Brando would lip synch the words whilst filming. Brando's singing co-star, Frank Sinatra, was reputedly quite unhappy to be playing second fiddle to Brando in a musical. Our man Marlon's performance isn't too bad, his smirking and bemusement is pretty much what the role requires, though this inability to take comedy seriously enough is what will drag down the majority of his future performances in the genre. A piece of trivia: Brando almost never attended the premieres of the films he starred in, but producer Sam Goldwyn gave the actor a new car in order to convince him to break this rule just once for Guys and Dolls.
Sakini (Teahouse of the August Moon)
Teahouse of the August Moon (1956) Directed by Daniel Mann
Teahouse of the August Moon (1956) Directed by Daniel Mann
Brando fans haven't seen it all until they've seen him play a wiley Japanese interpreter, complete with Okinawan accent, coal black hair and fake slanted eyes. His ethnic make-up is actually quite convincing (as you can see above) but unfortunately he never quite convinces amongst his genuine Japanese co-stars due to his height. Brando does all he can to keep his body hunched or short, often projecting deference to his white employer (Glen Ford) whilst slyly leading him up the merry path. As a character, Sakini is pure comedy - Brando isn't required to give his role any real dramatic weight, and so once again he gets away with smirking his way through. Some modern viewers will no doubt be offended with the idea of Marlon Brando playing an asian, but it does remain an inoffensive characterisation that suggests intelligence and good humour, and Brando does his best to play the ethnicity of the character without descending into ugly stereotyping (unlike, say, Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany's).
Major Lloyd "Ace
Sayonara (1957) Directed by Joshua Logan
Keeping on the Japanese theme, in Sayonara our actor plays an airforce Major in recovering post-war Japan who finds himself smitten (despite his own cultural beliefs) with a popular Japanese stage performer. Brando adopts a southern accent, calling to mind the 'good old boy' network of the military and marking him out as at odds with the rest of the cast. His character starts out the film as an easygoing yet firm objector to interracial relationships, and alongside this character the audience comes to see the wrongness of this stance as we're taken inside a grand soap opera of tragedy and hope, loosely based on the experiences of real life American military personnel. Brando actually took on this film on the proviso that he could change the ending to a more hopeful one, marking the start of his trend towards films that reflect a positive social message. He got his fifth Best Actor Oscar nomination for it.
Lt. Christian Dietsl
The Young Lions (1958) Directed by Edward Dmytryk
Brando as a Nazi! This is a sprawling war drama, co-starring Dean Martin and Montgomery Clif, that tells the disparate stories of two Americans and one German in WWII. Both Martin and Clift were in the throws of escalating alcoholism at the time, so Brando pretty much steals the movie by default as a result. He employs a realistic German accent, sports shockingly blond hair and plays Diestl as an impassioned and tragic idealist who becomes increasingly disallusioned with Hitler's propaganda as the film progresses. There's actually something very annoying about watching Brando playing a Nazi whilst insisting to do it as the hero of the movie... by this point he had it in his contracts that he had the right to exercise creative control on his film projects, so (much to the chagrin of the director and writer) he changed his character from a typically evil Nazi to something a bit more reflective of reality and less demonising. Whilst it's commendable that Brando gives us a lone 'good' Nazi, it's also quite boring, vain, and ultimately irritating, especially when you consider how awesome it might've been to see Brando play someone more typical of Hitler's regime.
Valentine "Snakeskin
The Fugitive Kind (1959) Directed by Sidney Lumet
Brando plays second fiddle to Italian actress Anna Magnani in this rather stale adaptation of a Tennessee Williams play. His performance is very much a sullen and inobtrusive rehash of his casually rebellious work in The Wild One, and for a great deal of the film he's pretty much just there as material for Magnani's character to work around. He also never once plays his guitar despite carrying it around for a good portion of the movie. The only real highlight of his performance is the opening pre-titles sequence in which Valentine is put on trial for causing mischief at a bar, a lively monologue (written specially for the film) that gives more insight into the character than the entire rest of the film. Brando became the first actor to be paid $1 million for a movie role when he agreed to be in The Fugitive Kind, and there was some tension between himself and Magnani due to his unwillingness to sleep with the older actress. Magnani also couldn't speak English and had learnt all her lines phonetically, which made it difficult for her to pick up her cues when Brando improvised or downplayed his dialogue. As a result the film falls kind of flat.
Stayed tuned for Part 2 - the 1960s.
Special thanks to www.doctormacro.info for some of the photos!
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