Marlon Brando, who died last week, was a man-made Job. He was gifted with a rare talent, exotic good looks, the adoration of beautiful women and a vast audience of admirers who appreciated his acting ability. Yet he treated it all carelessly and appeared to believe in nothing but the transitory causes of a passing parade. Was there a lesson for our times?
Only days before he died, the New York Times examined the evolution of the Hollywood leading man under the headline, "Hollywood's He-Men Are Bumped by Sensitive Guys." The new crop of fresh-faced, dewy-eyed sensitive boys such as Leonardo DiCaprio and Jake Gyllenhaal, the Times pronounced, are "soft of cheek, with limpid stares and wiry frames," and have barely enough hair on their faces, let alone on their chests, to make it worth their while to buy a razor. They are the latest, it is said, in the tradition of Dustin Hoffman, James Dean and Marlon Brando.
Marlon Brando deserves to be odd man out in that group. Brando was pivotal. He mixed it up. He partook of the masculinity of the strong, sexually aggressive heavies from the 1940s, and he reinforced the new trend toward vulnerable and needy antiheroes, the types played by James Dean and Montgomery Clift. Brando was the actor who dished the dichotomy between virility and vulnerability as traits at war with each other. He epitomized the identity crisis the American male suffer for the next few decades.
The way Brando portrayed the tension between virility and vulnerability made him unique. We could never be quite sure which side would triumph. His genius was in the way he teetered between the two.
James Dean and Montgomery Clift, for all their talent, rejected everything macho and never rose above vulnerability. Brando, by contrast, wanted to indulge in the pursuits of the aggressive male while suggesting innocence and sensitivity. He wanted his cake with ice cream.
It was always impossible to separate the way Brando immersed himself in his characters from the way he lived his life. When he portrayed Stanley Kowalski in "A Streetcar Named Desire," he studied the dress and habits of the construction worker in New York (close enough to a New Orleans dock worker), the quintessential macho male whom two decades later feminists would put down as a "male chauvinist pig."
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