“Cheap, lousy, dirty, stinkin’”—one of this week’s film’s most famous lines, but definitely not words to describe On The Waterfront (1954, Columbia). There’s no denying this is a rather dark film—reminds me a tad of The Godfather (but we’ll get to that later). Yet, good struggles against the evil portrayed in the movie and (spoiler alert!) ultimately prevails, which is probably why I like this film. How a story about murder and corruption can seem more pure than a film about soldiers stationed at Pearl Harbor in 1941 is beyond me. Anyhow, On the Waterfront was nominated for 12 Academy Awards, including Actor in a Supporting Role for Karl Malden as Father Barry; Actor in a Supporting Role for Lee J. Cobb as Johnny Friendly; Actor in a Supporting Role for Rod Steiger as Charley Malloy; and Music (Music Score of a Dramatic or Comedy Picture) for the great Leonard Bernstein, the only score he ever did for a non-musical film. The film won eight Oscars: Best Motion Picture, Cinematography (Black-and-White), Writing (Story and Screenplay), Film Editing, Art Direction (Black-and-White), Directing for Elia Kazan (to go along with his 1947 Oscar for Gentleman’s Agreement), Actress in a Supporting Role for Eva Marie Saint as Edie Doyle (her debut role), and Actor for the incomparable Marlon Brando as Terry Malloy.

Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront

Let’s talk about Marlon Brando a bit since he’s one of the greatest actors of all time. Born to alcoholic parents in Omaha, Nebraska, in 1924, Brando had quite a miserable childhood, not finding success in anything but acting. Oscar-winner Anthony Quinn said once about his Viva Zapata! co-star, “I admire Marlon’s talent, but I don’t envy the pain that created it.” Like his mother (who directed the Omaha Community Playhouse and mentored a young Henry Fonda) and his sisters, Brando felt called to acting and determined to succeed at it, first appearing in the Broadway play I Remember Mama in 1944 at the age of 20. Criticized later in life for transferring his acting talents from the stage to the screen, Brando nevertheless became a household name after his role in the film version of Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire (1951, also directed by Kazan) in which he played the part of Stanley Kowalski and for which he received the first of his eight Academy Award nominations (Say it with me: “Stelllllllllaaaaaa!”).

While I think of his distinct voice and the legendary lines he delivered onscreen, a lot of people (especially in acting circles) associate Brando with method acting. “The Method” “engendered a close identification of the actor with the character’s emotions…emphasiz[ing] that authenticity in acting is achieved by drawing on inner reality to expose deep emotional experience.” Kazan disagreed that training in this type of acting was what made Brando exceptional and believed that Brando had “ruined two generations of actors, his contemporaries and those who came after him” because they falsely adhered to method acting to imitate Brando while Brando himself, though indeed highly trained, had his own method behind his art—one that involved more than just immersing oneself in a character’s emotions and then spitting them back out on the stage.

Brando with the Oscar he DID accept, the one for On the Waterfront in 1955.

However he did it, Brando was phenomenal. His performance in On the Waterfront is stellar—moody, gentle, perplexed, regretful, courageous. His lines fit him like a favorite old sweatshirt—he may be ad-libbing in some scenes, but every word flows like he really is the tormented Terry Malloy. Of course, overshadowing his brilliance in films like A Streetcar Named Desire and On the Waterfront is Brando’s iconic turn as Don Corleone in The Godfather (1972). Honestly, I’m not a huge Godfather fan (I’m sorry!); but Brando is unforgettable in that film. His winning a second Oscar for The Godfather gave rise to a moment the Academy might like to forget, though. A staunch advocate for the rights of Native Americans, Brando skipped the Academy Awards in 1973 and sent Sacheen Littlefeather, an Apache woman who was president of the National Native American Affirmative Image Committee, to not accept the Oscar for him and to pass on a speech he had written to the press. Littlefeather stood on the Oscar stage in Native American garb and explained that Brando would not accept an award, however prestigious, from an industry which so misrepresented Native Americans. She was first booed, then applauded (it’s definitely worth finding this bizarre Oscar moment on YouTube). You can read the full text of Brando’s letter here: http://www.nytimes.com/packages/html/movies/bestpictures/godfather-ar3.html?mcubz=3. Regardless of his political and social views, Brando firmly holds a place in history as a brilliant actor without whose skill On the Waterfront may have floundered.

Speaking of On the Waterfront…one other kind of interesting item to consider. The film wrestles with the issue of whether or not it is ever right to “rat out” one’s comrades. Terry goes back and forth in his mind for most of the film about which is more ethical: providing information that will lead to the arrest of a killer, or protecting a (corrupt) man who has given him his livelihood and supported him in the past. The thought-provoking idea here is that the director of On the Waterfront, Elia Kazan (whom we talked about a few weeks ago in connection with Gentlemen’s Agreement), had testified before the House Un-American Activities Committee and spilled names of other “communists” just two years earlier in 1952. How very bizarre that he would then direct a film which lauds the individual who “squeals” on his guilty friends.

Well, for more thoughts on On the Waterfront and its significance, please check out the full post this weekend!