I wasn't writing a blog in July 2004 when 'the greatest actor of all time', Marlon Brando died of respiratory failure at age 80. We just passed the ten year anniversary of his death which seems like the perfect time to reflect on the legacy of this 20th Century screen titan. Now everyone knows the name Marlon Brando(or at least I hope), but how many youngsters out there know ABOUT Marlon Brando? "Wait, wasn't he in The Godfather"? Sadly, I think that's the extent of the knowledge of most of the under-thirty set. Well, that's why I write this blog. The history of film acting can basically be broken up into two categories- before Brando and after Brando. Do me a favor and watch a movie made before 1950. I mean, ANY movie. Then watch Brando in "A Streetcar Named Desire". With all due respect to Humphrey Bogart and Cary Grant, there IS a difference. The bar had been raised significantly. The public learned that acting is more than just saying lines in a fancy suit with perfect elocution. Moviegoers had never been exposed to that level of raw power, passion and realism before. It was a watershed moment in pop culture and the obliteration of the overly polished leading man that audiences had previously become accustomed to. The list of actors that Brando inspired is endless. I'm talking about James Dean and Johnny Depp and everyone in between. He brought method acting to the forefront. He's the reason you're wearing that tight, white t-shirt. But like many towering talents that achieve huge fame, there was a downside. Brando bucked at the adulation and became increasingly disenchanted with his profession. He didn't work for years at a time. His weight famously ballooned. It may have been a form of rebellion against industry expectations and his own discomforting sex symbol status. Political and social activism seemed to take precedence over his Hollywood obligations, and an aging Brando made little effort to hide the fact that he was only interested in roles that came with significant financial gain. Tragedy struck his family and he slid even further into recluse. These are merely the cliff notes. I hope you'll join me now for a further look back into the life and times of an endlessly fascinating individual.
Born in Omaha, Nebraska in 1924, Brando's formative years were less than idyllic. An alcoholic mother and a stern, unloving father would often separate and relocate as they sought work in Chicago, Illinois and Southern California. His older sister was the first in the family to pursue acting, appearing in Broadway plays and later, film and television. An 18 year old Brando followed her to New York City in 1943 after a high school football knee injury barred entry into the military. He instantly felt accepted in the theater community and fell under the tutelage of renowned acting coaches Stella Adler and Lee Strasberg. His penchant for mimicking other students, commitment to realism, and unique insights made him the standout among the group of young Broadway hopefuls. After a run of summer stock shows on Long Island, Brando first achieved major notice for the 1947 stage version of "A Streetcar Named Desire". This is where he made crucial contact with future friend and mentor, director Elia Kazan. After turning more heads as a paraplegic WWII veteran in his 1950 film debut "The Men", Brando exploded onto the screen in the Kazan-directed film version of "Streetcar". Swaggering, animalistic brute Stanley Kowalski became the first in a handful of signature roles, but Marlon was the only member of the main cast to be denied an Oscar, despite being more strongly associated with the Tennessee Williams adaptation than Vivien Leigh, Kim Hunter and Karl Malden.
The Academy didn't have to wait long to remedy the situation. After two more back-to-back Best Actor nominations for 1952's "Viva Zapata!" and 1953's "Julius Caesar", Brando reunited with Kazan for "On the Waterfront". His former boxer turned mumbling dockworker Terry Malloy could have been a contender, and this indelible characterization was another acting master-class that finally netted him that overdue gold statue. The film also took Best Picture for 1954 and Best Director for Kazan. That year also saw him nab the coveted role of Napoleon in the historical biography "Desiree". It might be easy to overlook "The Wild One" during this highly productive, award-worthy period, but Brando's leather-clad outlaw biker became an enduring symbol of rebellious youth. A musical may not have been a natural fit for a non-singer like Brando, yet the man's rock star-like popularity forced Frank Sinatra to take a backseat in 1955's "Guys and Dolls". He touched upon prejudice and interracial relationships, two subjects that would later become rather personal, in "Teahouse of the August Moon" and "Sayonara", earning a fifth Best Actor nomination for the latter. "The Young Lions" and "The Fugitive Kind" were received favorably to complete his untouchable, golden years. If Brando had shuffled off this mortal coil at any point during the Eisenhower or Kennedy administrations, he'd conceivably occupy the same level of immortality as James Dean and his female counterpart Marilyn Monroe. Instead, many of his subsequent cinematic ventures proved that uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.
The 1960s were hit-and-miss as Brando largely struggled to maintain the standards of excellence that he set in the previous decade. Matching the strength of his '50s output may have been too much to ask of any performer, and fans would have to settle for a few films that were merely good and a few others that wouldn't be mentioned in any of his obituaries. He used his immeasurable clout to step behind the camera for the first(and last time) in the 1961 Western "One Eyed Jacks". His bankability would take a serious hit when he headlined the costly remake of "Mutiny on the Bounty". While far from the all-around failure it's since been labelled as, Brando's clashes with director Lewis Milestone were well-documented in the entertainment press, creating an ornery reputation that he would never fully shake. His politically-minded follow-up "The Ugly American" didn't fare much better in '63, but it did pick up some admirers at the dawning of the cable/home video age. "Bedtime Story" and "Morituri" were outright flops in 1964-65. Finding relief in the burgeoning Western genre, he put a fresh spin on familiar tropes in "The Chase" and "Appaloosa", both released in 1966. Charlie Chaplin's swan song "A Countess from Hong Kong" and John Huston's "Reflections in a Golden Eye" in which he boldly tackled a role few others at the time would have approached- a repressed homosexual Army officer married to Elizabeth Taylor, are his only real highlights in this otherwise tumultuous era. "Candy" and "The Night of the Following Day" are strange, dated products of the late '60s that will probably never be unearthed. Brando considered 1969's "Burn!" to be among his finest achievements, a sentiment shared by no one.
The discontent that had been slowly building since "Mutiny" had turned into full blown contempt for the biz as a middle-aged Marlon entered the 1970s. "The Nightcomers" was a relatively minor entry in his filmography which brought whispers that he was washed up. A spent force. Then a director by the name of Frances Ford Coppola orchestrated a colossal comeback that arguably puts him on equal footing with Elia Kazan as Brando's most important collaborator. His portrayal of mob patriarch Vito Corleone, and just about every other aspect of the sprawling cultural landmark known as "The Godfather", is permanently engrained in the public consciousness. The Academy Awards for Best Picture and Actor(which Brando declined in controversial fashion) couldn't have gone to any other film in 1972, and the careers of his young costars Al Pacino, Robert Duvall and Diane Keaton were soon off and running. Reenergized, he quickly turned in another top-five performance as a lonely widower engaged in a purely sexual relationship with a Parisian girl in Bernardo Bertolucci's art-house triumph "Last Tango in Paris". He was rewarded with his seventh Best Actor nod in 1973, and it's been said that this emotionally-grueling drama took up all his remaining artistic ambitions.
A red-hot Jack Nicholson was thrilled to work with his resurgent idol in 1976's "The Missouri Breaks", but the highly-anticipated Arthur Penn Western was a disappointment for all involved. He received top billing and top dollar to play Superman's father in the 1978 Christopher Reeve blockbuster that grandfathered the whole superhero film genre that we're currently up to our necks in. Coppola came calling again as the decade drew to a close to enlist Brando for his epic deconstruction of the Vietnam War. The two-time Oscar winner showed up to the notoriously difficult "Apocalypse Now" shoot with a bald head, a 250-pound body, and a refusal to learn his lines. Somehow, he's still brilliant. His shadowy Colonel Kurtz looms large over the three hour film despite only appearing in the third act and was the key component in Coppola's haunting masterpiece. Next up was a supporting role opposite George C. Scott in the mystery thriller "The Formula" for "Rocky" director John G. Avildsen.
Brando was MIA for most of the 1980s. He may have been depressed about President Reagan or unsure of his place in a now-aggressively commercialized industry ruled by the laconic likes of Harrison Ford. Either way, he came out of hiding to notch one last Academy Award nomination as a lawyer battling apartheid in 1989's "A Dry White Season". He was much more active in the '90s, starting with a playful spoof of Vito Corleone in the Mathew Broderick comedy "The Freshman".
Brando was MIA for most of the 1980s. He may have been depressed about President Reagan or unsure of his place in a now-aggressively commercialized industry ruled by the laconic likes of Harrison Ford. Either way, he came out of hiding to notch one last Academy Award nomination as a lawyer battling apartheid in 1989's "A Dry White Season". He was much more active in the '90s, starting with a playful spoof of Vito Corleone in the Mathew Broderick comedy " The Freshman". "Christopher Columbus: The Discovery" was staid Oscar bait that preceded a pairing with a rapidly-rising Johnny Depp in the modest 1995 hit "Don Juan Demarco". The single worst film of his career was 1996's "The Island of Dr. Moreau". The eccentric icon should have passed on this sci-fi disaster that he had no interest in beyond cashing a paycheck as big as his waistline. A year later, he did Depp a favor by agreeing to a part in his dark indie flick "The Brave", followed by the equally obscure yet-appropriately-titled Charlie Sheen comedy 'Free Money". Unless you count a high-priced cameo in a Michael Jackson video, it's very fitting that his final screen appearance came opposite Robert De Niro, perhaps his most celebrated discipline, in the low-key 2001 caper "The Score".Not many actors can boast of a fifty year presence on movie screens, but I can't help but wonder how many more great performances he could have given if disillusionment hadn't settled in and he'd been a little more accepting of his gifts. There's no doubt that his son's manslaughter conviction and his daughter's suicide took a real heavy toll. You'll have to learn more about those tragic tales elsewhere. His last days were reportedly spent in bed, glued to coverage of the conflicts in the Middle East. He cared more about the state of the world than any of the forty films he left behind. He unquestionably furthered the art form in at least ten of them. So, is he really the G.O.A.T.? That's certainly debatable, but Nicholson, whose definitely in that discussion, may have said it best- "Other actors don't go around discussing who the best actor in the world is because it's obvious. When Marlon dies, we all move up one".
