Allow me to blaspheme: Marlon Brando is not one of the greatest actors to grace the silver screen--not even one of the greatest American actors. He's certainly capable and turned in consistently good performances throughout his career, but something is missing from his body of work, I think, that is essential to transcending the status of "good" actor and becoming great: humility. Marlon Brando thought he was hot stuff, and he was pretty good, but that egotism, I think, prevented him from ascending to the level of a Jimmy Stewart or Robert De Niro or Al Pacino. Those men were great, must have known they were great, but it never showed in their performances. The latter two owe a debt to Brando, for sure, but there is a naturalism that they brought to their defining roles; Brando has always seemed too mannered for me and in all the wrong ways. He served his era in the same way Brad Pitt serves ours: A Serious Actor.
The Wild One is a prime example of what is wrong with Brando. The man undoubtedly threw himself with vigor into all of his roles. Sometimes that worked (see The Godfather or Apocalypse Now, though his performances in both occasionally border on comical), but it does not here. Why? This situation occurs, primarily, because the film is risible. I understand that I have 53 years of perspective on this movie, but I cannot imagine that it was not perceived as a little too worked up for its own good in 1953. The plot, which follows a couple of bike-gangs as they rampage through a southern Californian town, while one gang leader woos a local beauty, is told with straight-faced earnestness, which makes it difficult to swallow and equally difficult to mock. How can one pick on a film whose heart's on its sleeve? I won't belittle it more than I already have, but I will say that watching it today you'll undoubtedly find yourself snorting derisively at times.
However, it's not simply that the story is naive and simplistic--the narrative is relayed visually in the most banal ways. The photography is dull and the framing barely competent. The editing and pacing are miserable and, frankly, I found myself dosing in what should have been a delicious melodramatic romp. I mean, the story is a soap- opera, but it's told without relish (go to Rebel Without a Cause for that--there's an outdated film that still musters enough energy and delight to keep you watching).
And then there is, as I said, the acting, particularly by Brando. He is as earnest as the screenplay, which is to his detriment. The performance is mannered, like his turn in Streetcar Named Desire, but it just doesn't work for me. It also doesn't help, as I said, that I cannot take this movie seriously. That he does makes me respect him less. It's not only Brando, though, as everyone seems to have missed that the tale is laughable-- everyone, that is, except the always brilliant Lee Marvin, who stumbles into this film as Chino (the only interesting character) and walks off with the picture. The movie is worth watching for his performance alone, but, then again, almost any movie with Lee Marvin was worth watching for his steely, sadistic gaze. In a just world, Marvin would have become a star of Brando's magnitude, but, I guess, Hollywood isn't a just world, forever rewarding mediocrity in favor of true talent.
The Wild One is a prime example of what is wrong with Brando. The man undoubtedly threw himself with vigor into all of his roles. Sometimes that worked (see The Godfather or Apocalypse Now, though his performances in both occasionally border on comical), but it does not here. Why? This situation occurs, primarily, because the film is risible. I understand that I have 53 years of perspective on this movie, but I cannot imagine that it was not perceived as a little too worked up for its own good in 1953. The plot, which follows a couple of bike-gangs as they rampage through a southern Californian town, while one gang leader woos a local beauty, is told with straight-faced earnestness, which makes it difficult to swallow and equally difficult to mock. How can one pick on a film whose heart's on its sleeve? I won't belittle it more than I already have, but I will say that watching it today you'll undoubtedly find yourself snorting derisively at times.
However, it's not simply that the story is naive and simplistic--the narrative is relayed visually in the most banal ways. The photography is dull and the framing barely competent. The editing and pacing are miserable and, frankly, I found myself dosing in what should have been a delicious melodramatic romp. I mean, the story is a soap- opera, but it's told without relish (go to Rebel Without a Cause for that--there's an outdated film that still musters enough energy and delight to keep you watching).
And then there is, as I said, the acting, particularly by Brando. He is as earnest as the screenplay, which is to his detriment. The performance is mannered, like his turn in Streetcar Named Desire, but it just doesn't work for me. It also doesn't help, as I said, that I cannot take this movie seriously. That he does makes me respect him less. It's not only Brando, though, as everyone seems to have missed that the tale is laughable-- everyone, that is, except the always brilliant Lee Marvin, who stumbles into this film as Chino (the only interesting character) and walks off with the picture. The movie is worth watching for his performance alone, but, then again, almost any movie with Lee Marvin was worth watching for his steely, sadistic gaze. In a just world, Marvin would have become a star of Brando's magnitude, but, I guess, Hollywood isn't a just world, forever rewarding mediocrity in favor of true talent.