1954: On the Waterfront.

Dock worker Terry Malloy (Marlon Brando)
struggles with his conscience.

Release Date: July 28, 1954. Running Time: 108 minutes. Screenplay: Budd Schulberg. Suggested by the article series, "Crime on the Waterfront," by Malcolm Johnson. Producer: Sam Spiegel. Director: Elia Kazan.


THE PLOT:

Once upon a time, Terry Malloy (Marlon Brando) was a prize fighter with ambitions of becoming a champ. Now he is just "a bum" on the waterfront. He runs errands for corrupt union leader Johnny Friendly (Lee J. Cobb), who makes sure Terry gets cushy jobs in return.

It is understood among the workers that everyone should be "D & D... Deaf and Dumb." The worst sin is to be a stool pigeon - like Joey Doyle, who has agreed to talk to the Waterfront Crime Commission about Friendly's activities.

Terry lures Joey to a rooftop, believing that Friendly's men will just "lean on" the young man to persuade him not to testify. He is shocked when he sees Joey thrown off the roof. Joey's younger sister, Edie (Eva Marie Saint), and the local priest, Father Barry (Karl Malden) team up to try to get other workers to come forward, and Terry's shame increases - particularly when he finds himself drawn to Edie.

Terry's torn loyalties do not go unnoticed. An increasingly nervous Johnny Friendly is watching - and he decides to act before Terry has a chance to turn against him!

Terry is drawn to Edie Doyle (Eva Marie Saint) -
the sister of the man he helped murder.

CHARACTERS:

Terry Malloy: Marlon Brando won his first Oscar, and it was well deserved. Brando's performance is well thought out. Through the first half of the movie, Terry puts on a tough and cynical persona, insisting that "everybody's got a racket." But this seems ever so slightly forced, like a weak man putting on a swagger, while he seems most relaxed and authentic when dancing with Edie or taking care of his pigeons. He also slouches for much of the movie and, in conversation, avoids meeting the eyes of the people he's talking to, almost perpetually conscious of shames both recent (Joey) and from the past. It's only after he decides to act that he carries himself upright; and in his final confrontation with Johnny Friendly, he looks his adversary dead in the eye.

Edie Doyle: Eva Marie Saint also won an Academy Award as the murdered dock worker's sister. In this case, I can't agree with the award. Saint does a fine job with what she's given and has good screen chemistry with Brando. That said, Edie isn't a fully formed character. She acts as a catalyst for first Father Barry and then Terry to act, and of course she's there to be the requisite love interest/eye candy. But as a person in her own right, she never seems as authentic as any of the male characters.

Father Barry: Karl Malden, Lee J. Cobb, and Rod Steiger were all nominated as Best Supporting Actor... and all of them lost. The studio should have thrown its weight behind just one of the three; and in my opinion, that one should have been Karl Malden. His Father Barry is first seen at the crime scene, offering empty clichés to try to comfort Edie. It's her snapping at him for "hiding in a church" that prompts him to come down to the waterfront. He's appalled at what he sees, wondering why the workers don't complain to the union about Friendly's abuses. He offers his church as a safe meeting place, and he draws some of the workers to him with self-deprecating humor. By the midpoint, he seems to just fill the friendly priest trope. He bursts out of that trope midway through the film, with a showstopping speech in which he excoriates the dock workers for their silence. His voice rising with genuine fury as the others shout him down and pelt him with filth. When one man calls for him to go back to his church, he thunders back: "This is my church!" The rage is a sharp contrast with his earlier laid-back persona, and Malden nails every beat.

Johnny Friendly: The corrupt union boss, who came to power by being tough and ruthless. He proudly shows off a scar where his throat was cut during his struggle to reach the top, while an underling talks about how he "kept his hand over his throat to stay alive and still went after them." Friendly is relaxed only once in the movie, in his first scene, when he thinks that Joey's death makes him safe. Once Father Barry comes to the dock, he feels his power slipping away. From that point on, his every decision is guided by fear that the workers might turn against him. He worries that he'll be seen as soft and that he'll become "just another fellow around here." Since he came to power through violence, that becomes his solution to everything - and it turns against him. By the end, he loses the fragile support he once had, with his greatest fear realized: that in the eyes of the men who once feared him, he is now "just another fellow," one whose bluster and threats can be safely ignored.

Charley Malloy: Rod Steiger would often turn to ham late in his career, making it particularly noteworthy just how subtle his performance is here, as Terry's smart but corrupt older brother. Charley isn't the focus of any of his scenes, and Steiger is constantly reacting, either to Brando or to Lee J. Cobb. But he pitches those reactions perfectly, drawing enough attention to himself in scenes to keep from being invisible while at the same time allowing his co-stars to retain the focus. Watch him during Brando's famous "I shoulda been a contender" speech. Charley already knows what Terry is telling him, even as he tries to deflect blame. He wants to deny responsibility, but he ultimately can't. The way his face and body language changes throughout the scene is nothing short of remarkable, with each new statement hitting him in a slightly different way. Steiger's career would span another 47 years until his death, but this would remain among his very best performances.

Father Barry (Karl Malden) delivers a sermon,
one that's as angry as it is heartfelt.

THOUGHTS:

Much has been written about On the Waterfront over the decades. It has been recognized as an outstanding motion picture since its initial release, and it is regularly cited among the best American movies. It has been recognized by entities as diverse as the American Film Institute and the Library of Congress, and it even made the Vatican's list of the top 45 films of all time. Even more than most of the Academy Award winners in this review series, there is zero chance that I will find anything new to say about this motion picture.

Elia Kazan directs with a focus on authenticity. Certain moments, as the camera lingers on men leaning against a wall or on the faces of workers waiting to find out if they've been selected for the day's work, are almost documentary-like. He uses the crowds throughout, with many of the film's most significant moments framed with the actors amongst large numbers of workers, letting us absorb the reactions of the people watching.

This emphasizes that the conflict engulfing Terry, Father Barry, and Johnny Friendly will not really be decided by them, but by the workers themselves. Johnny might intimidate them with threats; Father Barry might sway them with his words; Terry might earn their scorn with one action or impress them with another. In the end, however, whoever wins the crowd will win the battle. Terry is oblivious to this, but both Father Barry and Johnny recognize the reality. These crowds are particularly well used during Father Barry's speech and - still more powerfully - in the movie's final scene, which I won't describe because I wouldn't want to blunt its impact for anyone who hasn't seen the film.

There are some interesting uses of sounds within scenes. In the movie's second half, Terry finally reveals to Edie the role he played in her brother's death. We hear little of the conversation. We don't need to hear it; we've observed Terry's internal struggle throughout the movie. At first, we just watch from a distance, from Father Barry's viewpoint. Even when Kazan cuts to close-up for the emotional high point, he withholds most of the dialogue. We hear a few snatches of words, but most of what is said is drowned out by the whistle from the waterfront. Instead of words, the meaning is conveyed by the actors' faces: Eva Marie Saint, horrified as she absorbs this revelation; Brando's eyes, pleading for her to understand. It's all much more effective than if it had played out through dialogue.

One aspect of the film I didn't love was the music. Leonard Bernstein's score is good... but there's too much of it. The wonderful scene in the taxi between Terry and Charley doesn't need music, and it would in my opinion be even stronger without the score. Other moments, such as a late conversation between Terry and Edie, have the music so loud that it overpowers the dialogue. The effect isn't artistic, as with the whistle; it's just annoying.  It certainly doesn't stop this from being a great film. Still, I would have preferred less music, at a less overbearing volume.

Terry appeals to his brother (Rod Steiger) in a genuinely
iconic scene. The performances remain outstanding.

ASPECT RATIO:

On the Waterfront was the first Best Picture winner to be released in widescreen format... with an asterisk. Because theaters were converting to widescreen at this time, the film was framed to be releasable in all of the common aspect ratios. It was released in standard full frame, in 1.66:1, and in 1.85:1, with no one "preferred" version ever identified by the director. This recalls the way silent versions were prepared of several early sound films (such as All Quiet on the Western Front and Cimarron).

The Criterion Collection release, which was the basis for this review, includes all three. I opted for the 1.66 version, as it strikes me as the best of both worlds. The only aspect ratio I would argue against is the 1.85, which I think boxes the faces in to a distracting degree in some close-ups. Regardless of preference, I'm happy that Criterion has allowed viewers to make their own choice.

In any aspect ratio, there's really no way to go wrong watching this fine film.

The shooting style focuses on authenticity, with moments
that look almost like they belong in a documentary.

REMAKES AND RETELLINGS:

In 1984, writer Budd Schulberg adapted his screenplay to the stage. Watching the film, I can see how this would work, as most of the action can easily be routed to either the waterfront or Terry's rooftop with minimal revision. There was also a direct remake, in the form of director Vikram Bhatt's 1998 Indian film, Ghulam (which was itself later remade).


OVERALL:

On the Waterfront stands up as a very fine film boosted by excellent performances. Marlon Brando's performance here is every bit as good as its reputation, and he's backed by a top-notch supporting cast, while Elia Kazan's direction carefully focuses on making events and characters feel as authentic as possible.


Overall Rating: 10/10.

Best Motion Picture - 1953: From Here to Eternity
Best Motion Picture - 1955: Marty

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1947: Gentleman's Agreement.

Journalist Philip Schuyler Green (Gregory Peck) pretends
to be Jewish for a story on anti-Semitism.

Release Date: Nov. 11, 1947. Running Time: 118 minutes. Screenplay: Moss Hart. Based on the novel by: Laura Z. Hobson. Producer: Darryl F. Zanuck. Director: Elia Kazan.


THE PLOT:

Philip Schuyler Green (Gregory Peck) is a journalist who has taken a job at a high-end, liberal New York publication. It's a good move for him; he's recently widowed, and the move allows him to be close to his mother, who can help with the raising of his young son (Dean Stockwell). Things look even brighter when he meets Kathy (Dorothy McGuire), the smart, attractive niece of his new editor, Mr. Minify (Albert Dekker)... but Phil's job is about to get in the way.

Minify feels driven to do a series on American Anti-Semitism, a subject he thinks Phil can do justice to. Phil is less enthusiastic, believing there is nothing new to say on the topic and fearing that his debut with the journal will amount to little more than: "prejudice is bad, and here are some statistics about it." Then he hits on an angle that he believes will allow for a more personal look at the topic.

Phil, who is still new to town and unknown to most, will pretend to be Jewish to everyone he meets, allowing him to experience the prejudice firsthand. But he finds it harder than expected to bear that weight, particularly when the most stinging responses come from those he would least expect...

Phil with his girlfriend, Kathy (Dorothy McGuire),
and his Jewish best friend, Dave (John Garfield).

CHARACTERS:

Phil: Gregory Peck was not the first choice, with the role originally offered to Cary Grant. I would have preferred Grant. The character as written has a judgmental streak, one that Peck leans into a little too hard. Still, he has fine individual moments. When Phil attempts to check into a hotel whose managers won't openly admit to refusing Jewish guests, he shows a stubbornness and quiet anger that is highly effective. Overall, however, he's more than a little wooden.  Peck would himself later admit that he was too immature as an actor to deliver everything the script called for, and I would agree with that self-assessment.

Kathy: Dorothy McGuire's Kathy thinks all the right things and says them so long as she is safely in like-minded company. The idea for the anti-Semitism series was originally hers, and she is enthusiastic about Phil writing it... until he reveals the approach he's taking, at which point she instantly becomes distressed. She may share his convictions, but she lacks the courage to risk being ostracized, repeatedly urging Phil to avoid his ruse when he's meeting members of her social set.

On paper, all of this should be effective.  In practice, almost nothing involving Kathy works. Peck and McGuire have no romantic chemistry, and the script tries to sell the relationship by having the two rote-recite their feelings while doing absolutely nothing to actually convey them. By the end of the movie, I'm not only unconvinced that these two love each other; I'm not even sure they particularly like each other!

Dave: John Garfield gives the movie's best performance as Phil's Jewish childhood friend, recently returned from World War II. Dave enters the film just past the halfway point, when Phil's ruse has been firmly established.  The script quickly establishes a contrast between the sting Phil feels at experiencing prejudice for the first time against Dave's quieter, more internalized response to experiencing the same for his entire life. Dave is less vehement than Phil, but a couple of well-judged moments show that his wounds run far deeper. A particularly good scene sees him recalling the impact on his children of being excluded from a school trip. "That's the place they really get at you," Dave says, adding that the exclusion "wrecked them for a while."

Anne: Celeste Holm won the Best Supporting Actress Oscar as the magazine's fashion editor. Anne emerges as one of the few completely unprejudiced people Phil meets. She interacts with Phil, and later Dave, in a way that's entirely free of awkwardness, and she is blunt in assessing hypocrisy. Holm invests the character with intelligence and humor, and by the end of the movie seems like an altogether better match for Phil (and, for that matter, a better overall person) than Kathy.

Mrs. Green/Tommy: Anne Revere and a very young Dean Stockwell play the other members of Phil's family. His mother is quick-witted and stubborn, though she suffers from health issues that make Phil's threat near the end to leave New York seem a little bewildering; surely he doesn't plan to abandon her when she seems perpetually under threat of a heart attack, a stroke, or both? Stockwell's Tommy is a fairly typical 1940s urchin, just a little too adoring and perfectly behaved to be entirely believable, though Stockwell does well with a late scene in which Tommy comes home in tears after being bullied by classmates.

Phil finds an ally in Anne (Celeste Holm), who seems
like an altogether better match for him than Kathy.

THOUGHTS:

I'll admit, I wasn't entirely looking forward to Gentleman's Agreement. Though it's still regarded with respect for tackling its topic in 1947, time has seen it re-evaluated negatively as a movie. When it's mentioned in articles, it's usually put forward as an example of a "worthy" message picture that's ultimately a bit shallow.

Early scenes live down to this reputation. There's a decidedly artificial quality to magazine editor Minify enthusing that they're going to "crack (anti-Semitism) wide open," as if he's talking about some scandal at City Hall instead of a fault that was ingrained in international culture. Another scene, in which Phil explains anti-Semitism to Tommy in broad and facile terms, is exactly the sort of material I had feared. At this point, I started bracing myself for 120 minutes of morally upright Gregory Peck explaining to us that, "Prejudice is bad, mm'kay?"

Then Phil initiates his ruse, kicking off the Second Act, and... the movie instantly gets better. A lot better. The script makes some keen observations about prejudice, saving its harshest condemnations not for open bigots or hate groups but instead for "nice people" whose tolerance of hate helps to fuel it.

Phil observes to his editor that this supposedly liberal magazine has somehow managed, in New York City no less, to avoid hiring any openly Jewish receptionists. Minify calls the hiring director on the carpet and institutes a strict policy that positions are open to all religions. This leads to backlash not from the general employees, but from Phil's own secretary, Elaine (June Havoc), a "passing" Jew who frets: "You just let them get one wrong Jew in here, and it'll come out of us!"

Minus one incident in a hotel lobby, the bulk of the anti-Semistism Phil encounters boils down to little things: careless comments, stares, physical avoidance. A steady parade of people showing that, once they learn he's Jewish, he's no longer considered "one of the group," which makes Phil ever angrier as the ruse goes on. As Dave observes, Phil doesn't have a lifetime of insulation, so he feels every snub. This is all considerably more sophisticated than I had anticipated, and it adds up to a film that retains its relevance decades after the fact, with its observations about anti-Semitism applying equally to any form of prejudice.

Phil becomes an exhibit for Kathy's social set.

WEAKNESSES:

While much of Gentleman's Agreement exceeded my expectations, it's not hard to find reasons why its reputation has declined over time.

The Phil/Kathy love story is entirely artificial.  They spend many scenes insisting (but not in any way showing) that they love each other, and even discuss marriage all of two dates after their first meeting. Phil's ruse takes a toll on them as a couple, but every argument follows the same pattern: Kathy tries to keep Phil from telling people that he's Jewish, Phil gets annoyed, and Kathy feels guilty. Even if the romance worked, this would get tedious. Since the romance doesn't work, it mainly feels like their scenes draw the film to a screeching halt.

For a film whose topic is anti-Semitism, it's remarkable how few Jewish characters are present. There are only three Jewish supporting characters: Dave, Elaine, and Professor Lieberman (Sam Jaffe), who is featured for exactly one scene. Of the three, only Dave registers as a significant character.

Also, Phil's ruse is limited to telling people that he's Jewish and waiting for a reaction. It does not extend to going to a synagogue or involving himself in any way with the larger Jewish community. The movie is set in New York City; even in 1947, I guarantee there was a larger Jewish community.  Also, such involvement would easily lend depth and context to Phil's story.  The film wants to insist that Jews are in no way inferior to Christians... but it seems to also want to keep any actual Jewishness at a safe distance.

The script devolves into heavy-handedness in its final reel. The last ten minutes features no less than three sledgehammer-like speeches, with the final "everybody's century" speech representing the filmmakers making sure we understand The Moral of the Story. This is a real pity, after all the wonderfully subtle, authentic-feeling observations made during the bulk of the running time.

Phil consoles his son, Tommy (Dean Stockwell),
after he's bullied by classmates.

OVERALL:

Gentleman's Agreement is a good movie... mostly. I was surprised by how relevant its main points remain, particularly about the type of unconscious daily prejudice that can be just as damaging as overt hate. That was not something I had expected from a vintage film reputed to be a bit clunky and heavy-handed, and these and other moments genuinely impressed me.

Unfortunately, it's easy to find fault with the movie, as well. The central romance is dreadful, and it drags the movie down considerably. It's glaring how few Jewish characters are present in a movie about anti-Semitism. Finally, it descends into preachiness in its final moments, leaving a much worse final impression than would otherwise have been the case.

On the whole, I think the good outweighs the bad. That said, this does not stand with the best vintage Oscar winners, and it probably isn't a movie casual filmgoers would watch for an evening's entertainment.


Overall Rating: 6/10.

Best Motion Picture - 1946: The Best Years of Our Lives
Best Motion Picture - 1948: Hamlet

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