Cracks in the Wall: Marty, The Bridge on the River Kwai, and the Decline of the Hollywood Blacklist.

Kim Novak accepts the Oscar on behalf of
The Bridge on the River Kwai's screenplay.

On March 25, 1958, the 30th Academy Awards honored excellence in the movies for the year 1957. To no one's surprise, David Lean's The Bridge on the River Kwai won several awards: Best Picture, Best Actor for Alec Guinnes, Best Cinematography, Best Film Editing, Best Scoring... and Best Screenplay Based on Material from Another Medium.

The script was credited to Pierre Boulle, the author of the novel on which it was based. Boulle did not appear to collect his award, with actress Kim Novak delivering the acceptance speech - an extremely short speech, lasting less than 20 seconds:

"My boss, the late Mr. Harry Cohn, was very, very proud of this film, The Bridge on the River Kwai, as all of us at Columbia are. And I am very honored and very happy to accept this award for Pierre Boulle. Thank you."

Boulle, a French novelist who was not English-fluent, had no hand in the screenplay, which was actually the work of Carl Foreman and Michael Wilson... two screenwriters who were on the Hollywood blacklist.

It was the second year in a row that a screenwriting Oscar went to a film that was actually from a blacklisted writer. The previous year, The Brave One had won the Academy Award for Best Story. Though credited to the pseudonymous Robert Rich, it was actually the work of Dalton Trumbo.

For two years running, the Academy Awards had recognized the work of those who had been blacklisted. Even more importantly, blacklisted writers were now being hired to write - however anonymously - increasingly major releases.

A mere ten years since its start, and only five years since it reached its height, the blacklist's iron grip was loosening...

A hearing of the House Un-American Activities Committee.

THE ORIGINS OF THE BLACKLIST: 1946 - 1952

"I do not consider this committee to be stupid, on the contrary I consider it to be evil. It is not communism the House Committee on the un-American Activities fears, but the human mind..."
-writer/director Herbert Biberman, 1947.

I already discussed the blacklist and its origins in an earlier post. To briefly summarize, it started with The Hollywood Ten: a group of writers, producers, and directors who refused to give testimony before the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC). The Ten were cited for contempt, and they became the first Hollywood figures to be blacklisted from the industry.

There is no doubt that this group included people who were Communists or who had flirted with or sympathized with Communism in the late 1930s and/or early 1940s. Then again, that was not a crime at any point, not even during the blacklist.

No evidence was presented at the HUAC hearings that Hollywood movies had been used to spread "subversive messages." Soviet espionage was, as one would expect, centered on governmental institutions, not on entertainment. The most that can really be said is that Trumbo and some other influential figures reportedly prevented anti-communist scripts from being produced in the 1940s.

Even so, in 1952 the Screen Writers Guild authorized the omission of credits for writers who had failed to clear themselves before Congress. In so doing, the union officially codified the blacklist.

The Brave One (1956). Its Oscar winning script, credited to Robert Rich, was written by Dalton Trumbo.

WORKING ANONYMOUSLY:

"When the facilities of the government of the United States are drawn on an individual it can be terrifying. The blacklist is just the opening gambit - being deprived of work... After a certain point it grows to implied as well as articulated threats, and people succumb."
-Actor Lee J. Cobb, in an interview with Victor Navasky for his book, Naming Names.

The damage done by the blacklist to lives and careers should not be understated. Playwright-turned-screenwriter Bertolt Brecht was blacklisted after refusing to give testimony; when he finally cooperated, he found himself ostracized by the artistic community that had previously celebrated him. Actor Sterling Hayden spent the rest of his life plagued by guilt, with his later alcoholism and depression regularly linked to his regrets at being "a stool pigeon." Actor Philip Loeb fell into depression and committed suicide. Those are just a handful of many examples of careers damaged and lives ruined.

Blacklisted writers had options denied to blacklisted stars, because their work did not depend on their identities. Many continued to work under assumed names. Film portrayals of this include (one-time blacklisted) director Martin Ritt's 1976 comedy/drama The Front and director Jay Roach's fact-based 2015 drama, Trumbo.

Gradually, this anonymous work moved from "B" pictures to higher-profile films. A full year before The Brave One, Dalton Trumbo and Michael Wilson contributed to the script for Otto Preminger's The Court-Martial of Billy Mitchell, a script which was itself nominated for an Academy Award.

Blacklist proponents likely consoled themselves that, at the very least, these writers were going uncredited. Still, even at the blacklist's height, the writers it was supposed to stop were continuing to be paid to work in their chosen industry. In short, the first cracks were already forming.

Betsy Blair plays the title character's love interest in Marty (1955).

PUBLIC CREDIT: BETSY BLAIR AND MARTY

"(Marty) demonstrates that story, performance, and direction always count... (Betsy Blair is) impressive in her finely etched delineation of the sensitive schoolteacher."
-Variety's Mar. 22, 1955 review of Marty.

Actess Betsy Blair appeared in films such as 1947's A Double Life, 1948's The Snake Pit, and 1951's Kind Lady. She was also a left-wing political activist, which earned the scrutiny of the HUAC. By her own admission, she had attempted to join the American Communist Party in the 1940s. She was rejected, primarily because the communists didn't want to compromise the career of her husband, Gene Kelly.

Though he was never a communist, Kelly was openly progressive in his politics. He was also a legitimate superstar - and even at the height of the Second Red Scare, his success provided a shield. Blair would later reflect on her good fortune compared to some of her contemporaries, observing that, "to sit out the McCarthy era in a house on Rodeo Drive as Mrs. Gene Kelly is not so bad."

In 1955, Kelly insisted that she be cast as Clara, the love interest for the title character in Marty, reportedly threatening to pull out of MGM's It's Always Fair Weather if his demand was not met. By 1955, the Red Scare was starting to wane, and Marty was a low-budget release that was not expected to have much visibility. Simply put: The studio did the math and concluded that the reward of having Gene Kelly in a major release was worth the risk of featuring Betsy Blair in a minor one.

Against all expectations, Marty became a critical and commercial success. It earned roughly $3.5 million worldwide against a $350,000 budget, and it went on to win multiple Oscars including Best Picture. Blair was nominated as Best Supporting Actress, despite being officially blacklisted.

True, she would never have been cast had her husband been anyone else. Still, a blacklisted actress was nominated for an Oscar playing the female lead in a highly successful motion picture, and her career resumed immediately thereafter. As I wrote in my review of Marty, I doubt this would have been the result in 1952, when the Red Scare and the blacklist were at their strongest. It was just a few years later, but the ground was already shifting.

Bridge on the River Kwai: Col. Nicholson (Alec Guinness) reflects on his life.

CARL FOREMAN, MICHAEL WILSON, AND THE BRIDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI:

"There are times when suddenly, you realize you're nearer the end than the beginning. And you wonder, you ask yourself what the sum total of your life represents, what difference your being there at any time made to anything... I don't know whether that kind of thinking's very healthy, but I must admit I've had some thoughts on those lines from time to time."
-Col. Nicholson (Alec Guinness) in The Bridge on the River Kwai.

Though the original screenplay credit for The Bridge on the River Kwai went to novelist Pierre Boulle, it was actually scripted by Carl Foreman and Michael Wilson. They worked separately. Foreman delivered the first two drafts. David Lean was dissatisfied, and he brought in Michael Wilson to do rewrites. Wilson would later work (also originally uncredited) on Lean's follow-up epic, Lawrence of Arabia.

I think it says much about the waning power of the blacklist that such a high-profile picture was entrusted to two blacklisted writers. Even more notable is David Lean's coy response to questions about the authorship. Instead of denying the controversy, he fanned the flames, telling a reporter: "You're asking me the $64,000 question, and as you've not got $64,000, I don't propose to answer it!"

Kirk Douglas in Spartacus (1960), one of two films that broke the Hollywood blacklist.

KIRK DOUGLAS, OTTO PREMINGER, AND THE BREAKING OF THE BLACKLIST:

"When I first came to Hollywood, the blacklist was just starting, and they were having hearings in Washington. What most people don't know is the judge of these hearings himself was later convicted of misappropriation. Spartacus helped break the blacklist, because Spartacus was a real character."
-Kirk Douglas, reflecting on the blacklist and his role in ending it.

The blacklist was always doomed, just as the Hays Code was. What's interesting is that both codes decayed at roughly the same time, with some of the same names striking decisive blows.

When I discussed the Hays Code, I noted that one of the factors in its downfall was an influx of European directors who scoffed at these restrictions. One such director was Otto Preminger, a man who thrived on controversy. He made The Moon Is Blue and The Man with the Golden Arm without Hays Code approval. Both films became box office hits.

In January 1960, Preminger announced that Dalton Trumbo - one of the original Hollywood Ten - would adapt Leon Uris's Exodus. Trumbo had (anonymously) co-scripted Preminger's The Court-Martial of Billy Mitchell, and the director believed he was the correct writer to bring Exodus to life. Also, as with his Hays Code defiance, he liked doing things that he wasn't "allowed" to do. For him, any outrage created by Trumbo's contribution would be considered a bonus.

At about the same time, Trumbo scripted another major release: producer/star Kirk Douglas's epic, Spartacus. Per Kirk Douglas's autobiography, The Ragman's Son, the plan had been to leave Trumbo uncredited. In the book, Douglas describes a meeting with co-producer Edward Lewis and director Stanley Kubrick, in which Kubrick suggested - a little too eagerly - that he be named as writer. In disgust, Douglas called the front gate at Universal Studios to leave a pass for Trumbo.

Both Exodus and Spartacus were hits, proving that the blacklist no longer held any sway over moviegoers. Walter Winchell reported on Trumbo's association with the movies, as did others. It had no impact on the film's box office.

The Hollywood blacklist had been broken.

The restored screenplay credits on the blu-ray. This was not how it was credited in 1957.

POST-SCRIPT:

"If I were 'clean,' my name would already be alongside yours as co-author of this picture."
-Michael Wilson to credited screenwriter Robert Bolt on Lawrence of Arabia

In 1985, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences finally gave awards to Foreman and Wilson (posthumously) for their work on The Bridge on the River Kwai. The "Pierre Boulle" credit remained on VHS releases; but later DVD, blu ray, and streaming versions would credit Foreman and Wilson.

By the time Kwai was released to theaters, Carl Foreman had already returned to Hollywood. In August 1956, he testified a second time before the HUAC. It was basically for show. Columbia Pictures wanted to work with Foreman, and an already-weakened HUAC passed him despite his continued refusal to name anyone. Foreman said enough of the right things in denouncing communism, the HUAC gave their approval, and Columbia announced a four-picture deal the following March.

In a well-structured movie, the breaking of the blacklist in 1960 would have been the end of it. This was not the case, as there were after-effects. For example: Michael Wilson, co-writer of The Bridge on the River Kwai, wrote the first three drafts of Lawrence of Arabia. Though he was replaced with Robert Bolt, Wilson established the structure used in the final film - but when it was released, Bolt was the sole credited writer.

Wilson would express bitterness about this, stating (as quoted above) that he would have shared credit had he been perceived as "clean." The restoration of his name to the film in the 1990s would seem to bear this out.

But then, life tends to be a little messier than a well-structured Hollywood screenplay.

Review: Marty (1955)
Review; The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957)

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1955: Marty.

Marty (Ernest Borgnine) finally has a very good night.

Release Date: Apr. 11, 1955. Running Time: 93 minutes. Screenplay: Paddy Chayefsky. Producer: Harold Hecht. Director: Delbert Mann.


THE PLOT:

Marty Piletti (Ernest Borgnine) is a Bronx butcher who shares a house with his mother (Esther Minciotti). He is 34 and single - and with his siblings all married, he feels increasing pressure to find a nice girl. But heavyset, socially awkward Marty just doesn't do well in that area. "Whatever it is that women like, I ain't got it!" he complains.

Reluctantly, he allows his friend Angie (Joe Mantell) to take him to a dance hall. Sure enough, Angie quickly finds a girl to dance with, while Marty is blown off. He settles in for yet another evening of quiet social torture, and the worst part is that he's gotten used to it.

Then he meets a fellow social outcast: Clara (Betsy Blair), a 29 year old teacher whose formal manner and plain appearance have left her as rejected by men as Marty has been by women. Marty finds her crying after her date has abandoned her. He comforts her out of decency. Then they get to talking, and they quickly discover just how much they have in common. Soon, the chance encounter turns into a full-blown date.

There's only one problem: Marty's friends and family, the same ones who have pushed him to find someone, are less than enthusiastic when faced with the reality that he may not be single much longer...

Marty with his mother (Esther Minciotti).

ERNEST BORGNINE AS MARTY:

Ernest Borgnine's Oscar-winning performance is layered and subtle. He retains a mask of even-tempered, almost neutral politeness that's as much for his own protection as anything. An early scene sees him calling a young woman to ask for a date. Later, he approaches a woman to ask for a dance. In both cases, the way he holds himself and the tentative tone in his voice shows that he's expecting rejection even before he begins speaking - as if internalizing it will somehow keep it from hurting.

Borgnine's performance is very physical. There are scenes near the start and end, almost bookends, of him sitting alone after arguing with his mother. His posture in the chair makes him look smaller, emphasizing his acute loneliness. Borgnine doesn't do anything to draw attention to it. He just hunches a little bit forward, adopting a blank look that emphasizes Marty's hopelessness more than any actual expression could manage. When he finally moves, it's slowly, as if drawing himself up just to walk takes effort.

Then he meets Clara. Suddenly, conversation flows free, like a river of talk that has been building for years, waiting to burst through the dam he's built over it. His posture becomes truly relaxed for the first time in the film. When he drops her off for the night, his enthusiasm is such that he can't stop himself from running, grinning, into the night. It's only when he encounters resistance from his mother and from Angie that the mask goes back up, his eyes dulling, his movements slowing, and his voice returning to its prior neutrality.

For Borgnine, Marty was a game-changer. He could have easily spent his career playing heavies such as the memorably sadistic sergeant in From Here to Eternity. Marty showed his range, allowing him to be charming and pathetic, enthusiastic and hopeless, romantic and painfully shy, all within a single role that he embodies with absolute authenticity.

Marty and Clara (Betsy Blair) spend hours just talking.

OTHER CHARACTERS:

Clara: As Clara, whom several characters refer to as a "dog," the filmmakers cast Betsy Blair... proving that Hollywood's tendency to cast genuinely attractive women in so-called plain roles is anything but new. In some ways, Clara is Marty's opposite. She is well-educated, and her family appears to enjoy a higher overall social status. Even so, she is presented in a way that parallels her with Marty, even before they meet. We see Marty being rejected by women, then we see Clara's date brushing her off in favor of someone younger, prettier, and more outgoing. Marty is shown standing alone at the edge of the dance floor, in much the way Clara sits alone at a table. By the time they finally share the screen, the viewer is already primed to root for them as a couple.

Mrs. Piletti: Marty's mother (Esther Minciotti), who shares her house with Marty. She worries about him still being single when all of his siblings have married, and she pushes him to go out even when he would rather stay home. But she also relies on Marty for companionship and to maintain the house. When he brings Clara home, Mrs. Piletti instantly worries that her son will abandon her - a worry not helped by her overbearing sister (Augusta Ciolli), who is essentially being evicted by her own son and his wife.

Angie: Marty's best friend (Joe Mantell) is about the same age, and he is also under pressure to find a wife. He and Marty seem to spend each Saturday night just hanging out. Angie complains about Marty's preference for staying in and watching television; as the slimmer friend who easily finds a dance partner, he can't fully comprehend why his heavyset friend is reluctant to go out looking for rejection. Like Marty's mother, he seems to rely on Marty's companionship, and he reacts badly when his friend finally finds a woman he really likes.

Mrs. Piletti visits her sister (Augusta Ciolli),
who makes her worry about being abandoned.

THE SCRIPT: STRUCTURE AND REPETITION:

I can't help but find it interesting that the harshest words Marty hears against Clara come from Angie and his mother. During the night of the date, Marty runs into three people he knows: Angie, his mother, and another acquaintance named Ralph (Frank Sutton). The final Act, which occurs the next day, sees Marty encountering the same three. Angie and Mrs. Piletti are both harsh in assessing Clara, but Ralph doesn't even mention her.

Ralph is important here because of the difference we observe. Mrs. Piletti and Angie have become dependent on Marty's availability. Mrs. Piletti spends Saturday night with her sister, observing her sadness at being asked to leave the home she shares with her son and his wife. After Marty leaves with Clara, Angie spends the rest of Saturday night wandering aimlessly, clearly not knowing what to do with himself. By the time they meet Clara, they view her as a threat and do all they can to convince him not to see her again. By contrast, Ralph is just a casual acquaintance. To him, Clara's irrelevant, save to ask Marty how he "made out."

The script is by Paddy Chayevsky, so it's little surprise that it's well-written. Though the movie is basically a succession of scenes of people talking either to or around each other, we get a sense of their larger worlds. Marty has an opportunity to buy the butcher's shop where he works. It's obvious that he wants to buy it, but he feels nervousness: at the financial commitment, at the potential competition from supermarkets, and (unspoken) at the responsibility. Clara has her own opportunity for advancement, with the prospect of a job where she could become department head, but the job would mean moving away from her parents. Meanwhile, Marty's current life is an endless repetition of the same evening.

Chayevsky was always great with dialogue, and the characters' speech has an almost musical rhythm. Marty and Angie sit around a diner, reading the paper while mechanically intoning: "What do you feel like doing tonight?" "I don't know, Ange, what do you feel like doing?" After being asked to leave her son's house so that he and his wife can have space to be a couple, Mrs. Piletti's sister laments: "These are the worst years, I tell you." Then she repeats the statement, adding to her sister: "It's gonna happen to you." Then, after another refrain, she repeats, "These are terrible years... terrible years... It's gonna happen to you." Near the end, Marty's mother evasively condemns Clara: "Is she Italian girl? ...She don't look Italian to me. What family she comes from? ...She don't look Italian."

The empty repetitions cease in two circumstances. The first is when Marty lets his mask drop out of frustration, expressing to his mother the pain of constant rejection. The naked emotion is raw and direct, without the circular evasiveness that characterizes most of the movie's speech. The other is when he's talking with Clara. Their conversations are direct and eloquent as they disclose their backgrounds, hopes, and fears. This is yet another way the film emphasizes their connection.

"What do you feel like doing tonight?" Marty engages in
a familiar ritual with his best friend, Angie (Joe Mantell).

OTHER MUSINGS:

Marty was a low-budget film, made for a mere $350,000. Little was expected of it. Production company Hecht-Lancaster reportedly considered releasing it as a "B" picture, at the bottom of a double bill, and had to be persuaded otherwise. With no major stars, the official trailer actually saw Burt Lancaster introducing the movie to audiences to grant star power by association.

Then it got released, and the reviews that came in weren't just positive - Critics gushed over it. Marty quickly became a hit. At a time when big budget, big studio films dominated, its success helped to prove the viability of low-budget independent films. It also boosted the profile of Hecht-Lancaster as a production company, with its post-Marty titles including such releases as Separate Tables, The Sweet Smell of Success, Run Silent, Run Deep, and The Birdman of Alcatraz.

A side note: Actress Betsy Blair was actually blacklisted, with Marty being her first role since 1951. But she also was married to Gene Kelly, whose star was at its height. When Kelly threatened to pull out of It's Always Fair Weather, Blair was cast despite the blacklist. Yes, it happened because she was married to a superstar - but I'm not sure Gene Kelly would have swayed the studio had it been, say, 1952, when the Red Scare was at its height. Also, Blair's blacklisted status did not stop her from earning acclaim for the role or from being nominated as Best Supporting Actress. I'll go into this topic more when I reach The Bridge on the River Kwai... but Betsy Blair's casting in Marty may represent the first visible sign that the blacklist would not be sustainable.

Marty (Rod Steiger) dances with Clara (Nancy
Marchand) in the 1953 television version.

1953 TELEVISION VERSION:

I've regularly discussed "Remakes and Retellings" of Best Picture Winners. Well, in this case, Marty the movie was the remake. Paddy Chayevsky adapted his own teleplay for a 1953 presentation of The Philco Television Playhouse. The earlier version, starring Rod Steiger and Nancy Marchand, still exists and is still available, and it is well worth seeing in its own right.

It's interesting to watch the two versions side-by-side. Much of the dialogue is identical, but they are very different products. Rod Steiger leans hard into Marty as an introvert. Steiger emphasizes the character's pain; in the movie, Ernest Borgnine plays the emotional pain convincingly, but what he really pushes is Marty's innate decency. Both actors are great, but I prefer Borgnine. There's a real joy in his connection with Clara that I don't quite feel in Steiger's version. It helps that movie Clara is a considerably stronger character than the television version, thanks in large part to some well-advised script expansions Chayevsky made to get the runtime to 90 minutes.


OVERALL:

Marty is the shortest Best Picture winner ever released... even if you count Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans in the mix. Its story is simple, and it consists almost entirely of conversations between people. However, the people are authentic and likable; their conversations are funny, interesting, and emotional; and the story is at all times entirely relatable. It's a very small-scale work, but its small-scale world is so detailed and textured that the viewer is made to feel connected in a way that larger films rarely accomplish.

Some of the mannerisms and speech patterns have dated. Still, the emotional core is as relatable as ever, and the movie remains a joy to watch.


Overall Rating: 10/10. Yes, again. What can I say? In the early-to-mid '50s, the Academy had a brief run of actually getting it right.

Related Post: Cracks in the Wall - Marty, The Bridge on the River Kwai, and the Decline of the Hollywood Blacklist

Best Motion Picture - 1954: On the Waterfront
Best Motion Picture - 1956: Around the World in 80 Days

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