ften we watch a Hou Hsiao-hsien film as if it was Jerry Bruckheimer product. Maybe The Wedding Crashers has more in common with Preston Sturges than audiences thought. Thanks to the relative ease with which the modern consumer can attain a restored older film or once out-of-print foreign film, A Second Take allows a writer to describe why a film was overrated or overlooked the first time. We do not expect our readers to agree, which is precisely the point: consensus occludes independent thinking.
When someone is excessively good at what they do, one of two things usually happens: they get bored or they burn out. Such was the case for Marlon Brando in 1976. It didn’t help that he was also a little bit crazy.
Brando executed his job in The Missouri Breaks to a stupendously weird and cavalier degree in an unhinged performance that finds him farting his way across a sprawling Montana landscape with the stalwart determination of a jaded nihilist.
Times are hard for the men who work the Breaks. Tyrannical ranch owner David Braxton (John McLiam) chafes when a gang of thieves led by Tom Logan (Jack Nicholson) steals his horses. Braxton overreacts and hires ‘Regulator’ Robert E. Lee Clayton (Brando) to eliminate Logan and Co. Clayton hunts the horse thieves one by one and slays them in a series of bizarre and beautiful killings, each of which is preceded by a nugget of improvised philosophical advice such as “Life is like a mountain railway ‘cause you don’t have no idea what sleazy son of a bitch’s got his hand on the throttle.” These offerings are delivered in the guise of the myriad accents Brando flosses throughout the film. Some are distinguishable (Southern, Irish) and some are most likely invented. Oftentimes, a culturally apropos and appropriately absurd wardrobe compliments the twangs. No doubt Marlon dressed himself during this shoot.
And still, even as he sifts through an ever-evolving cornucopia of alternate deliveries, Brando dominates every second of screen time allotted to him, either steamrolling his co-stars or manipulating them like marionettes, orchestrating their every reaction to yield a desired payoff. Only Nicholson holds his own, and he does so by infusing his performance with genuine frustration, reacting to what he must have perceived as an unprofessional irascibility on Brando’s part. After all, Jack was accustomed to being the showstopper in ’76. But not even his charisma rivals Brando’s energy.
Supposedly, Brando was unhappy with his character as originally conceived. He insisted on re-working Clayton to make him more dynamic. Director Arthur Penn was at first resistant to the maestro’s approach, but the actor was unrelenting in his interpretation. Penn eventually acquiesced, a testament to the director’s gift for punch-rolling amidst the rigidity and demands of his craft.
Surprisingly, Brando’s performance never seems inconsistent with the overriding tone of The Missouri Breaks. In fact, his offbeat deliveries elevate the picture’s higher meanings. There’s this great scene between the two leads that unfolds as Brando relaxes in a steamy bath. Nicholson points a revolver in the assassin’s face. He is unable to pull the trigger, but not due to lack of opportunity. In his apathy, Brando invites the bullets, ready to die. Maddened, Nicholson unloads a round in the side of the tub and lets the water drain. “You’re not even there,” he accuses with disdain before evacuating the premises.
Brando is wounded by the accusation and his reaction, which reads honestly, is interesting on several levels. Logan seems to have jangled Clayton’s only raw nerve; Nicholson seems to have pushed the one buried tender button Brando had left, unleashing an untapped power untapped left dormant for many moons.
Now, imagine a revitalized legend dressed like an old woman, standing infused with his own sense of self as the Logan ranch burns to the ground. He stares into the night sky and quietly implores: “They say you can see the Star of Bethlehem if you look real good. I seen it once or twice. But you gotta look away and then you gotta look at it, see? Just blink. Like that. See what I mean?”
I think so.
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By: Frank Rinaldi Published on: 2007-02-06 Comments (0) |
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