Oscars Retrospective: On the Waterfront (27th Academy Awards Review)

  

On the Waterfront Suite~Leonard Bernstein - On the Waterfront

As we’ve been clicking off the list of Academy Award winners that came out during the McCarthy and HUAC era, I realize that I have been complaining quite a bit both about the hypocrisy of the Academy as well as the general ugliness of this episode in American history. I try to eschew my own personal politics from these blogs so I think now is as good a time as any to reframe our mission with this series back to where it belongs. The goal isn’t necessarily to castigate the Academy for their politics so much as it is to castigate the fact that they choose the Best Picture for petty studio politics instead of what actually qualifies as the best picture of the year. Ergo, if a film were to be pro-McCarthyism but was still a great and groundbreaking movie regardless, then the argument of it being the best movie of the year could hold water.

That brings us to On the Waterfront, one of the greatest films of the 1950s. The film revolves around Terry Malloy (Marlon Brando), a longshoreman who works on the docks in Hoboken, New Jersey. He’s part of the local stevedores union, which is Mobbed up and led by the ruthless local boss, Johnny Friendly (Lee J. Cobb) and Terry’s brother, Charley the Gent Malloy (Rod Steigler), who acts as Friendly’s right-hand man. The members of the union all have a very “hear no evil, see no evil” approach to the crimes that Friendly commits and Terry is no different. Until, one day, he witnesses a murder committed on Friendly’s behest and struggles to choose between doing the right thing and remaining loyal to his brotherhood.

For context on why this movie was an allegory for McCarthyism, the film was directed by Elia Kazan, a theater-turned-movie director who was known for making plays and films based on heavy social issues (i.e. Gentleman’s Agreement (1947), Pinky (1949), A Streetcar Named Desire (1951)). Already considered one of the most influential directors of his day, that cred didn’t save him when HUAC came a-knockin’. By this point Hollywood had divided up into two pretty clear blocks between the friendlies (conservative, pro-Blacklist) and unfriendlies (liberal, the ones who generally took a stand against HUAC and the Blacklist). Kazan originally caucused with the unfriendlies but eventually turned and agreed to name several names in front of Congress, ending their careers. This effectively got him labeled as a rat and ostracized from several friend groups, frustrating Kazan.

The look of a man who realizes that he was on a blacklist for the Blacklist.

Knowing that this movie was made by a man who was annoyed by being called a rat and viewed his decision to sell out friends as courageous does add a lot of fascinating behind-the-scenes context to On the Waterfront. Though that’s the beautiful thing about it: you honestly wouldn’t know what this movie is about unless you did the research.

On the Waterfront is very excellent as it manages to be a character study, an American fairy tale, a well-paced thriller and a slice of life all rolled into one. I’m personally not the biggest fan of Kazan’s directing style as his movies tend to have a very sterile feel to them. He doesn’t have much creative cinematography or style and tends to shoot his actors head-on without much regard for making the setting a character in and of itself. (A Streetcar Named Desire is set in New Orleans, one of the most visually distinct cities in America, and you wouldn’t know that from watching the film.) Knowing that he was a theatrical director first does make it seem like he almost falls into the trap of filming a play instead of a movie. The only reason why I think he ever escapes this trap is because most of his movies are set in multiple locations giving them a sense of dynamism in the locations at least. On the Waterfront is the exception to this rule though I think that’s more by accident. The film was shot on location at the Hoboken piers during a particularly nasty winter. As a result, the whole movie just exudes blue-collar America and gives off a very cold feeling, even if you’re watching it in the middle of July.

If On the Waterfront was Kazan’s baby, however, it was definitely Marlon Brando’s show and his performance as Terry Malloy is often considered a watershed moment in the history of film acting. Brando was part of a new generation of actors based out of New York City who got their start in the theater and was widely considered part of the Stanislavski school of acting. To make a very long and complex ideal extremely short, the Stanislavski school of acting was an acting style that was up and coming around this time where actors were taught to completely embody and internalize their characters to give better performances (whereas previous actors were taught to externalize their emotions and focus on the actions). Founded in Russia by Konstantin Stanislavski and adapted to America by Lee Strasberg, Stella Adler and Sanford Meisner (each of whom had their own minor but distinct spins on the method), this is the style that method acting grew out of wherein actors will constantly remain in-character between takes. Most of the film legends of the 60s and 70s New Wave often considered themselves a part of this style of acting and On the Waterfront would do a lot to explain why most of them placed Brando on such a pedestal.

Now I say that Brando is considered an example of Stanislavski method and this is where things get a little complex. A large reason why On the Waterfront got this notoriety is that Lee Strasberg celebrated the film as an accomplishment of his Group Theater and his method. Brando, however, never studied under Strasberg (he was a student of Stella Adler) and was constantly, and rightfully, resentful that Strasberg used him as a publicity stunt. In fact, Strasberg’s interpretation of the Stanislavski method could be downright dangerous: Adler encouraged behavioral memory while Strasberg emphasized emotional memory. In other words, if an actor had to be sad, Strasberg encouraged them to dredge up some emotional trauma and constantly relive it again and again over the course of several hours. If the actor in question is already suffering from some sort of trauma, constantly reliving it for days on end could lead to a very unhealthy state of mind (supposedly, this was part of why Marilyn Monroe’s mental state deteriorated near the end of her life).

If you’re used to modern cinema and you watch an old movie for the first time, the acting has a very antiquated style that can provide a barrier for the modern viewer. The first movies sprung out of the theater, where actors are taught to project big and emote big so that the audience members all the way in the back could see and hear them, and it took a very long time for acting to cater to the camera. Even truly great performances, like Orson Welles in Citizen Kane (1941) or James Stewart in It’s A Wonderful Life (1946), have that antiquated style that makes watching these movies an acquired taste.

Stanley Kowalski in A Streetcar Named Desire is where modern acting was experimented with and Terry Malloy is where it properly begins. You could plop this character down in a movie from today and he wouldn’t stick out all that much. Even ignoring how Brando was part of the wave of 50s heartthrobs who were the first sexy movie actors, he does things in this movie that no one else was doing at the time. For example, watch this scene where he hits on Edie Doyle (Eva Marie-Saint).

Saint drops her glove and Brando, probably in a bit of ad-libbing, picks it up and starts fiddling with it because Malloy likes talking to Edie and he knows that if he gives her her glove back, she’ll likely end the conversation sooner and leave him. That is such a cute little character detail that no one else at the time would have ever thought of.

We’ve discussed previously how the celebration of blue-collar America grew after World War II and most classic film characters from the 30s and 40s tended to be somewhat well-off. Terry Malloy is one of the first wave of characters alongside Shane and Charlie from The African Queen (1950) that was truly middle-class. While movie audiences used to watch characters who existed in a completely different social strata, On the Waterfront was one of the first movies to bring the Hollywood fairy tale to an ordinary guy that most Americans could identify with.

This creates an interesting “chicken or the egg” dynamic as to why this change occurred? Were audiences’ tastes truly changed by World War II or did Hollywood just never choose to gamble on stories like this in the first place? People fell in love with Terry because he felt real. Even if you didn’t know a longshoreman, you knew a steel worker or a farmer or some other blue-collar nobody who could’ve been somebody. This, of course, leads to the film’s most iconic monologue which defined both Brando and the film as classic. The famous contender speech which encapsulates the character of Terry Malloy, the poor bum who wants it to be one way but his union is forcing him down and making him accept another way.

While Brando is phenomenal, it speaks to the strength of the other actors that he doesn’t totally steal the show. I think what helps is that the characters all have a lot of depth that adds to their roles. For example, Edie the love interest isn’t just the love interest who acts as the angel on Terry’s shoulder. She’s also the sister of the man that Terry watched get killed which adds to his guilt complex. The other influence on Terry is a priest named Father Barry (Karl Malden) who, in any other movie, would be the nice, sweet priest. Instead, the dude plays it like he has some grit, like he knows exactly the sort of town he’s in but still wakes up to try to save some souls every morning. Rod Steigler as the brother is your typical movie thug but knowing that it’s his kid brother that he’s screwing over does make his character more fascinating that he’s ruining his family. The only character without much going on is admittedly Johnny Friendly who’s your typical villain though he’s still a lot of fun. Mostly because he’s played by Lee J. Cobb who I’m convinced is one of the most underrated actors from this era.

But even ignoring the acting milestones, the grim cinematography and the ruminations on blue-collar America, at the end of the day, On the Waterfront is simply a great story. While it’s rightfully lauded for its grittiness, I think part of it also comes from the fact that it is still a Hollywood fairy tale. Terry’s conflict of being torn between these two worlds is masterfully done and the plot moves at a very nice clip. They do such a great job at establishing this character and this world that you honestly want to see him break out from the heel of this group that won’t let him live. When the movie starts, he’s the punching bag of his group of friends but, by the end, he has finally become somebody like he’s always dreamed of. Even if things won’t be perfect, he still has an ending that feels earned.

But could it be called movie of the year though?

In case you missed it:

1st Academy Awards (1927/28): Wings/Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans: Part 1, Part 2

2nd Academy Awards (1928/29): The Broadway Melody: Part 1, Part 2

3rd Academy Awards (1929/30): All Quiet on the Western Front: Part 1, Part 2

4th Academy Awards (1930/31): Cimarron: Part 1, Part 2

5th Academy Awards (1931/32): Grand Hotel: Part 1, Part 2

6th Academy Awards (1932/33): Cavalcade: Part 1, Part 2

7th Academy Awards (1934): It Happened One Night: Part 1, Part 2

8th Academy Awards (1935): Mutiny on the Bounty: Part 1, Part 2

9th Academy Awards (1936): The Great Ziegfeld: Part 1, Part 2

10th Academy Awards (1937): The Life of Emile Zola: Part 1, Part 2

11th Academy Awards (1938): You Can't Take It With You: Part 1, Part 2

12th Academy Awards (1939): Gone With the Wind: Part 1, Part 2

13th Academy Awards (1940): Rebecca: Part 1, Part 2

14th Academy Awards (1941): How Green Was My Valley: Part 1, Part 2

15th Academy Awards (1942): Mrs. Miniver: Part 1, Part 2

16th Academy Awards (1943): Casablanca: Part 1, Part 2

17th Academy Awards (1944): Going My Way: Part 1, Part 2

18th Academy Awards (1945): The Lost Weekend: Part 1, Part 2

19th Academy Awards (1946): The Best Years of Our Lives: Part 1, Part 2

20th Academy Awards (1947): Gentleman's Agreement: Part 1, Part 2

21st Academy Awards (1948): Hamlet: Part 1, Part 2

22nd Academy Awards (1949): All The King's Men: Part 1, Part 2

23rd Academy Awards (1950): All About Eve: Part 1, Part 2

24th Academy Awards (1951): An American in Paris: Part 1, Part 2

25th Academy Awards (1952): The Greatest Show on Earth: Part 1, Part 2

26th Academy Awards (1953): From Here to Eternity: Part 1, Part 2