An Offer He Couldn’t Refuse
I know it’s been ages since my last post, and I would have written something before now, but what with campaigning for UKIP* and then partying in Albufeira**, I’ve hardly had a minute to spare…. Still, it’s time to get back to posting regularly again, and of course I can’t let the death of one of the most influential actors ever pass without adding my own small tribute.
Although perhaps best known for his piano duet with a dwarf in The Island of Dr Moreau, Marlon Brano was actually nominated for an Oscar for his role in A Streetcar Named Desire, in what was only his second major film appearance.
He soon became a household name thanks to his magnetic performace in 1954’s On The Waterfront. Brando brought a new realism to the screen thanks to his use of the Stanislavsky “method” acting technique, and spent six month perfecting his mumble prior to shooting. In On The Waterfront, Brando played Terry Malloy, a young New Yorker whose vision of opening a waterfront bistro are thwarted by his pinko, trade unionist friends. In the end, knowing his dream of running a bar will never be realised, Terry has no option but to inform on his friends to the the House Committee on Un-American Activities, a scene which saw Brando utter perhaps his most famous lines:
I coulda had class. I coulda been a bar tender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am. Let’s face it.
Brando’s next great performance came in Rebel Without A Cause, a landmark film of 50s rebellion in which he starred with Peter Fonda. He played the surly leader of a violent outlaw motorcycle gang, iconically dressed in black-leather jacket, shades, white t-shirt, skin-tight jeans and boots — a look later adopted by California’s gay community.
Unfortunately Brando’s talent was largely wasted during the 1960s, acting in a series of flops. It wasn’t until 1972 that his career was revitalised by The Godfather, winning his second Oscar for the role of Mafia boss Don Vito Soprano. Later that year Brando and actress Maria Schneider courted controversy with their feature-length commercial for I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.
The late seventies saw a couple of great Brando performances, first as Superman’s father in Superman, then as Colonel Blake in Robert Altman’s Apocalypse Now, but by now his health was failing. In retrospect Brando’s strict adherence to the Atkins diet probably didn’t suit his metabolism, and his weight soared to over 400lbs, confining him to dressing in a muumuu. However, the star still managed to withstand the gruelling 2 hours in make up it took to transform him into Jabba The Hut for 1983’s Return of the Jedi, a role he approached — literally — with relish.
Sadly from then until his death, Brando descended into an eccentric and reclusive lifestyle, emerging only occassionally to allow audiences a glimpse of his formidable talent, such as in the role of Dr Moreau. Nevertheless, Marlon Brando will be remembered as one of the most important actors of all time, and his death comes as a sad loss to the world of cinema.
Before anyone flames me for taking the piss out of the dead, I do actually think Brando was a really compelling actor, and did some great films. But he was also quite an odd-bod.
Anyway, what else have I been up to during the hiatus? Well, obviously watching England snatch defeat from the jaws of victory yet again, thanks mainly to Sven’s visionary 8-0-2 formation. The man has the tactical nous of a walnut. Unlike Otto Rehhagel, who knows how to make the most of what he’s got.
Plus there was my long-running saga with NTL, who decided that having two phone lines and a broadband cable line operating in one property was beyond their capabilities. To cut a five-week story short, first “engineer” (didn’t actually look old enough to drive the van) turned up on the Friday, made a mess, and left.
After he’d gone I realised I couldn’t use my broadband connection; when I tried to phone NTL to complain, I found he’d also knocked out the main phone line. After listening to muzak for half an hour, I got through to faults at 3pm, who told me an engineer would be round between 4 and 8pm that evening to fix the problem. Not too shabby, I thought. Waited in until 8pm, but no sign of the engineer, so I called NTL back only to find that all their “customer service representatives” knock off at 8pm.
Phoned again to report the fault on Saturday, only to be told that an engineer wouldn’t be able to come over until Monday. To make matters worse, the company that were meant to be delivering a new washing machine that day were trying to phone me on the dead line, so that got cocked up too.
The next “engineer” arrives Monday lunchtime, and manages to fix the problem within 5 minutes. Great! Unfortunately, after he’s gone I realise that in the process of fixing the first phone line, he’s buggered up the other one! So that’s another half-hour wait on the phone. It wasn’t until Tuesday that NTL finally got everything working again… a trained monkey could do a better job.
Well now the football and tennis are over, the weather’s gone crap, and everything technological is working properly, I’m running out of excuses for not posting more regularly. Better go and find some nonsense to post I guess.
Notes
* I am of course joking about the UKIP — I’d rather stick rusty needles in my eyes help Tan Man and his filthy, xenophobic BNP-Lite party elected to any positions of power (as some readers may know, I have my own personal reasons for hating Kilroy-Silk that pre-date his UKIP involvement, and will give him the damn good thrashing he deserves should I ever see him in person).
** Sadly I’ve been working my arse off in front of the computer and not sunning myself on the Algarve. Nor am I the sort of moron that likes to smash things up when I drink — I tend to just giggle a lot and then fall asleep.
Welcome back Badger :)