Brilliance of Brando
Marlon Brando brought energy and magnetism to the screen. His understated style showed a touch of genius. Yet his path to true excellence was blocked by disappointments. GAUTAMAN BHASKARAN writes.
MARLON BRANDO mumbled his lines. Sometimes to irritating incomprehensibility. But beyond that muttering mumbo-jumbo lay an energy that electrified a whole generation of movie buffs. His physical magnetism seduced hundreds, and his understated style on screen transformed the perception of acting.
Often, Indians were tempted to draw a parallel between Brando, who died on July 1 at age 80, and Amitabh Bachchan. But one would think it was as misplaced as Brando's belief that his wife was an Indian. Anna Kashfina had told the Hollywood icon that she was the daughter of wealthy Kolkata parents, and that she was trained in Asia's classical dances. Brando married her in 1957, but the union could last for just a year. He found out the bluff.
However, there was another Indian connection of Brando's that went beyond deceit. In a 1965 film, "Morituri," he acted as an apolitical German living in India tapped by the British to pose as an SS officer and infiltrate a Tokyo-Berlin freighter with a precious cargo.
"Morituri" sank without a song on the seas of choppy motion and movement.
In fact, Brando's legacy emerged out of a surprisingly small number of roles: as Stanley Kowalski in the 1951 "A Streetcar Named Desire," as boxer Terry Malloy in the 1954 "On the Waterfront," as an aging don in the 1972 "The Godfather" and as a perplexed middle-aged American living Paris in the 1973 "Last Tango in Paris."
An almost two-decade hiatus followed "On the Waterfront," when Brando performed eminently forgettable parts. Probably, his eccentricities (he bought, built up and lived on an island off Tahiti), and personal tragedies (his son's conviction for the murder of his step-sister's boyfriend) stopped him from being a truly great actor.
He did show a touch of genius in "Streetcar..." and "...Waterfront," with classic contributions in his 1970s movies.
Brando excelled up to the point he did because of his animal magnetism, brooding image and controlled charm exuded all at the same time.
He brought to the canvas a manner known as Method (as opposed to spontaneity), an acting technique promulgated in Russia by Konstantin Stanislavski in the 1920s, and popularised by American teachers such as Stella Adler.
Brando was the first to show us how gripping this style could be in the right hands of course.
His friend, Jack Nicholson, summed this up very well. ``Brando gave us our freedom to go beyond five-star characterisations.'' Brando's Kowalski was a brute, who defied the system of politeness and ethics. In just a few words, he was a rebel, who became an off-screen hero to growing kids.
But Brando himself had no idol to look up to. His parents were alcoholics, often vague and distant. He was born in 1924 in Omaha, Nebraska, and he said in his autobiography, `Songs My Mother Taught Me,' that his father was violent, never had a good word for his son. The mother hardly cared for the family, was always chasing the bottle. ``I suppose the story of my life is a search for love, but more than that I have been looking for a way to repair myself from the damage I suffered early on...,'' he wrote.
Many critics have said that the anger one sees in him was perhaps the animosity he felt for his father, and could not show it.
He, however, exhibited a raw rage, sometimes bordering on violent sexual passion. One remembers the way he has sex with a stranger in "Last Tango in Paris" as she walks into an empty apartment where Brando is resting. The girl seems to like the almost brutal way he makes love to her indicating an enormous degree of repression in him. Yet, Brando could shock you with his resolute control over his actions, a facet which one saw in "The Godfather" as Don Corleone, the Mafia leader. There he was the commander of his emotions with a complete grip over them, pursuing a disturbing sense of calm. He could kill you with his silence. And innovation.
``During one of Adler's classes, she asked her students to pretend to be chickens on which an atomic bomb was about to fall. Except for Brando, the rest ran around clucking loudly and looking at the sky. Brando sat like a hen, laying eggs. What would a hen know or care about a bomb.'' This was what a newspaper article had to say in 1997, revealing yet another fascinating aspect of his character. He might have been a star, but he was intelligent and pioneering.
Still, Brando never became an Olivier, never seemed to match the British actor's achievements. Brando never returned to the stage, and one noticed a certain lethargy in him. Or, was it a decisive lack of ambition. There were periods in his life that were marked by strange withdrawals, punctuated by his fondness for food and battle against the bulge.
Yet, the images that Brando left behind are far from ugly. One remembers Godfather stroking a cat, Terry playing with his girl's gloves and tens of other touching scenes that lit up even the most mundane of Brando's works.
No wonder, actors right from Paul Newman to Leonardo Di Caprio found it hard to resist being influenced by him.
Yes, he could have been a far greater icon. He won the Oscar (''On the Waterfront'' and ''The Godfather'') twice, but refused it the second time, protesting against the treatment of native Americans.
Perhaps, in the refusal one can feel a deep sense of anguish in him. Humiliation, rejection and disappointment were constants in his life, emotions that blocked his path to true excellence. One saw this, though rarely, in some extraordinary performances.
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