Showing posts with label Ernest Borgnine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ernest Borgnine. Show all posts

Friday, July 28, 2023

1955: Marty.

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

Marty engages in a familiar ritual with his best friend, Angie (Joe Mantell).
"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.
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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Tuesday, May 30, 2023

1953: From Here to Eternity.

First Sergeant Warden (Burt Lancaster) has a dangerous affair with the wife (Deborah Kerr) of his commanding officer.
First Sergeant Warden (Burt Lancaster) has a dangerous
affair with the wife (Deborah Kerr) of his commanding officer.

Release Date: Aug. 5, 1953. Running Time: 118 minutes. Screenplay: Daniel Taradash. Based on the novel by: James Jones. Producer: Buddy Adler. Director: Fred Zinnemann.


THE PLOT:

Robert E. Lee Prewitt (Montgomery Clift) loves the army. He insists that he's a "thirty year man," intent on making the military a career. But he's also prideful and stubborn - so much so that, after he's passed over for the post of First Bugler, he takes a demotion in order to transfer to Oahu.

Captain Holmes (Philip Ober) is delighted to have him, as Prewitt was a top middleweight boxer at his old regiment and Holmes sees boxing success as a path to promotion. There's only one problem: After accidentally injuring a friend while sparring, Prewitt refuses to box. Holmes prevails on his NCOs to make the private's life miserable until he accedes - but the private seems to actively take pride in enduring it.

First Sergeant Warden (Burt Lancaster) is the man who truly keeps the company going, doing all the administrative work that Holmes ignores. He is initially unimpressed with Prewitt, dubbing him a "hardhead." As the situation goes on, however, he changes his mind. He intercedes when Holmes asks to prepare a court martial against Prewitt, and he even arranges for a weekend pass for the beleagured young man.

Both men become involved in relationships. Prewitt falls for a nightclub hostess (Donna Reed), though Capt. Holmes's "treatment" leaves him with limited opportunities to see her. Ward gets into an even riskier relationship, striking up an affair with Karen (Deborah Kerr), the captain's wife - which, if it became known, could end his career and even leave him in prison!

Warden meets the newest addition to his company:
'hardhead' Private Prewitt (Montgomery Clift).
Warden meets the newest addition to the regiment:
"hardhead" Private Prewitt (Montgomery Clift).

CHARACTERS:

Sergeant Warden: Though he labels Prewitt a "hardhead," he's just as stubborn in his own way. Karen suggests that much of their dilemma would be solved if he applied to become an officer. The movie repeatedly demonstrates that he is a born leader and a gifted administrator, and everyone he mentions the idea to agrees that he would be a fine officer. Still, he resists the move - even though, inevitably, he's the one who takes charge when the Japanese attack Pearl Harbor. Even this sequence contains a reminder that Ward limits his potential by refusing to advance, when he's delayed in getting weapons to his men because no officer is present to authorize it.

Private Prewitt: While he admits that the "treatment" he's receiving from Holmes's NCOs has him on edge, he seems to take a perverse sort of pride in enduring it. He refuses his friends' urgings to file a formal complaint. He says something about not wanting to "give (Holmes) the satisfaction," but that makes little sense; even by this point in the film, enough anecdotal evidence has accumulated that any investigation would likely give the promotion-happy captain the opposite of satisfaction. He absolutely should report the situation, not only for himself but for all the other soldiers Holmes has/will similarly torment; the "treatment" is so casually done that there's no way Prewitt's is the first case. Still, he just can't bring himself to involve others in what he sees as "his" problem.

His refusal to box is not simple stubbornness, however. We learn midway through the film exactly how badly his fellow boxer was injured, and that it happened as a result of a very normal punch to the head. This has left Prewitt afraid - not of potential injury to himself, but of inflicting a similar injury on others. Even when he is pushed into a fight late in the film with one of his tormenters, he spends most of the fight specifically avoiding any punches to the other man's head.

Karen: When Captain Holmes's wife is introduced, we're told that she's promiscuous. Seeing Ward's interest in her, one of his friends tells him that it's not just rumors - something he knows because he was one of the men. When Ward confronts her, she scornfully tells him exactly what led her to turn to other men. Deborah Kerr, who up to this point had been typecast as idealized "good girls," seems to relish playing the character's angry bitterness. She only gets one scene of substance opposite her husband, but it's also a striking moment, as she responds to him with contempt sharp enough to cut through steel... a contempt that, by this point, we know he has entirely earned.

Alma/Lurene: Also cast against type is Donna Reed, who would go on to win the Supporting Actress Oscar as the "hostess" (Hays Code speak for prostitute) with whom Prewitt falls in love. Though she goes by "Lurene" so that she'll sound more exotic for the customers, her real name is Alma. She has a firm plan for her future. She carefully saves the money she makes. Once she has a pre-set amount in savings, she will stop working and return home to buy a house and live a "proper" life. That Prewitt doesn't really fit into that plan is not lost on either of them. The final scene sees her talking openly about Prewitt on the one hand... but on the other hand, every word she says about him is a lie.

Private Angelo Maggio: Frank Sinatra also won an Oscar - and, more importantly, changed the course of his career with his energetic performance as Prewitt's likable best friend. Sensationalism aside, I'm fairly sure that no horse appendages ended up in anyone's bed to secure his casting. Sinatra was persistent in lobbying for the part, even paying for his own screen test; and since his career was at a low ebb, his very recognizable name value came with a ridiculously cheap $8,000 price tag. He's also perfect in the role. He brings a sort of weary cheerfulness to the downtrodden Maggio. He's almost always seen with a smile, but there's a hint of something pathetic about him, and his hot temper speaks of hidden resentments. Sinatra has excellent buddy chemistry with Montgomery Clift, whom he would later credit with helping him with his performance.

"Fatso" Judson: Yet another case of excellent casting, with a young Ernest Borgnine memorably chilling as the sadistic stockade sergeant. When Prewitt and Maggio first encounter him, they're warned that he enjoys violence. He's the last person either of them should antagonize... which means that Maggio inevitably picks a fight. Judson warns Maggio that someday, he'll end up in his stockade, and then “I'll show you a couple of things.” It would have been easy to overplay this, but Borgnine doesn't even deliver the line as a threat. He just states it, calmly and simply, as an immutable fact.

Maggio (Frank Sinatra) antagonizes sadistic stockade sergeant 'Fatso' Judson (Ernest Borgnine).
Maggio (Frank Sinatra) antagonizes sadistic
stockade sergeant "Fatso" Judson (Ernest Borgnine).

FILMING THE UNFILMABLE NOVEL:

James Jones's novel, From Here to Eternity, was regarded as unfilmable. It was long - almost 1,000 pages - and that page count was not in any way inflated with big print or wide margins (quite the opposite). It was a work that was highly critical of military culture, which was a problem when Army cooperation would be needed to film it with any degree of authenticity. On top of all that, the book featured frank sexuality that was woven into the work in such a way that it was difficult to imagine the story working without it.

Somehow, screenwriter Daniel Taradash managed to deal with all of these issues without losing the core of what made the novel so memorable. I'd even go so far as to say that the film improves on the book in many respects. Subplots are either simplified or pruned away entirely. Profanities have been removed, but the spoken dialogue still feels real. Many minor characters have been deleted, and others have been merged; notably, Frank Sinatra's Maggio fills the role not only of book Maggio, but also of some minor prisoners tormented by Judson in the novel. This makes the Judson subplot more focused and more personal to both Prewitt and the viewer.

The movie implies brutality instead of showing it. When Maggio inevitably ends up in Judson's stockade, the viewer is never directly shown the violence. The conflict between the two men has already been established, and all that is directly shown is a single moment. Maggio is taken before Judson, who smiles in recognition. Judson's billy club sits on his desk, and the man waits until Maggio sees it and looks at it. Then Judson reaches out for the weapon - and the scene fades to black. We don't see anything more, and we don't need to. The simple gestures of Maggio staring at the club, followed by Judson reaching for it, tell the full story.

When I reviewed producer David Selznick's Rebecca, I posted a supplemental essay about Selznick's struggles against the Hays Code. I noted that Hays Office dictates resulted in severe compromises to Rebecca's story. It's still a fine movie, but its impact was blunted by the demands of the Code.

Well, From Here to Eternity may represent the other end of the scale. This is a movie that I think is better for having to work within those constraints. There is still a heavy carnal element to the relationship between Warden and Karen, which is all the stronger thanks to the chemistry between Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr - but that element is never the point of their scenes, which always focus tightly on the two characters.

Even the famous beach embrace is followed by a character-focused monologue, as Karen recalls the miscarriage that was made into a medical crisis by her husband's drunkenness. This is another change from the novel, in which her bitterness and infidelities began after her husband passed an STD to her... and it's yet another alteration that I find to be for the better.

Alma (Donna Reed), Prewitt's love interest, has no room for him in her carefully planned future.
Alma (Donna Reed), Prewitt's love interest, has
no room for him in her carefully planned future.

OTHER MUSINGS:

Director Fred Zinnemann focuses on making the film feel as real as possible to the viewer. He shot in black-and-white and in the standard 1.33:1 format, feeling that either color or widescreen (which was just emerging) would be distractions. He shoots in an almost documentary style. Visual flourishes are kept to a minimum, with the waves crashing over Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr as they embrace on the beach being the most "Hollywood" image presented.

This approach extends to the performances. There are plenty of quotable lines. Prewitt responds to Warden's hesitation about applying as an officer candidate by telling him that "a man should be what he can do." He replies to Alma's confessions by saying that "nobody ever lies about being lonely." But, as with Ernest Borgnine's deliveries of Judson's threats, lines like these are simply spoken. The sense is of people talking, and sometimes stumbling across eloquence without knowing it, rather than of actors chewing on movie quotes.

I think this has helped From Here to Eternity to age better than many of its contemporaries. The story is as much a soap opera as the one in Cecil B. DeMille's The Greatest Show On Earth. It's the presentation that makes this soap opera feel more meaningful than that one did. Characters are shown as ordinary people, and the world in which they exist feels lived-in. What might have come across as cheap melodrama ends up feeling grounded and real, which keeps the story involving.

The mournful bugler: Prewitt plays 'Taps.'
The mournful bugler: Prewitt plays 'Taps.'

REMAKES AND RETELLINGS:

While there has been no direct remake on the bigscreen, there have been a couple of attempts to retell this story for television.

In 1966, a thirty-minute pilot was shot with Darren McGavin in the role of Warden. It was not picked up as a series, which was likely a good choice.

A 1979 miniseries saw William Devane and Natalie Wood taking over for Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr. I haven't seen it, but it was generally well reviewed and was highly successful. Proving that network execs don't know when to quit, it then became a weekly series, with Devane but minus Natalie Wood. It lasted all of twelve episodes, as strong initial ratings rapidly tailed off. The back half of the series was repackaged as TV movies, burned off throughout 1980 during what would otherwise have been rerun season.


OVERALL:

1953's From Here to Eternity benefits from strong direction, excellent performances across the board, and an adaptation that captures the spirit of the novel while paring the story down to its essentials. It's a rare film that I prefer to its source novel, and time has been kind to most of the choices made in this adaptation.


Overall Rating: 9/10.

Best Motion Picture - 1952: The Greatest Show on Earth
Best Motion Picture - 1954: On the Waterfront

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