Modern Screen (Jan-Nov 1952)

Although Marlon Brando contends that acting is a craft that must be studied diligently and long, it must be conceded that he had a rare talent. Almost from his first appearance in summer stock, he was in demand by producers. If Streetcar hadn't come along to make him a star, another play would have. And if The Men hadn't made him a star in pictures, some other film would have. Upon his arrival in .Hollywood, Marlon became a property of MCA, the most plush management agency in town. Marlon has never been in their offices, but the company assigned a young man named Jay Cantor to "service" him. Cantor looked up Brando and was horrified to learn that he had no address. He slept wherever nightfall came upon him, although he did make some attempt to get to his aunt's house in Eagle Rock, California — a good 30 miles from the studio — cnce a week or so. Because MCA didn't want it to get around that its hottest property was a waif, the agency promptly rented a house and moved Cantor and another young agent into the place. This was to give Brando a definite place of abode and to keep the agency informed to some extent as to Marlon's whereabouts. Young Cantor found himself performing rather odd services for Marlon. There was the time, for instance, when the studio called and said Brando had lost his shoes. Jay got on the job and learned that Marlon had decided to go barefoot for awhile and couldn't remember where he had put his shoes. Jay suggested that they buy him another pair, but Marlon insisted that that would be a waste since the missing shoes were still in pretty good shape and he didn't mind going barefoot until they showed up. Finally, he agreed to borrow a pair until he found his own. While studio publicity people apparently had a wonderful source of live copy in Brando, they also had their headaches with him. When they suggested that he take an actress out, Marlon looked at her picture and said no. When they suggested that romance made good column items and asked him who he was going out with, Marlon gave them the name of a girl he'd dated the night before. Asked for details, he said he'd seen her on the street, liked her and walked up and asked for a date. She turned out to be a waitress in a downtown hash house. That made no difference to Marlon. He liked her. Olanned interviews with Marlon Brando A are impossible. Once a Warner Brothers press agent tried to sneak one over. He got Brando and a magazine writer together. Things went fine, except that Marlon refused to talk in anything but French — and neither the press agent nor the reporter understood the language. On the other hand, Marlon can be as cooperative as anyone. This writer made an appointment to see him for this article. The date was set for three o'clock at Warner Brothers. I was there and so was Brando, but he had forgotten that he also made an appointment with a number of other people. In a bit of a huff, I said I was leaving and told Marlon to call me when he felt he could spare the time. He did, the next day, and instead of giving a few minutes as he usually does, he came to my house, spent a good eight hours, took a bath, borrowed some clean clothes, stayed for dinner and hated to leave. When he returned to New York after making The Men one of the studio press agents called him and asked him to look in on his daughter, who had gene to New York for a try at the stage. Marlon called the young lady and suggested they get together for supper about 11 that night. The girl was somewhat confused about the late hour, but she agreed. Marlon was on time. He was wearing an old pair of blue jeans, a T-shirt, a casual sweater and a stocking cap. The girl was dressed for dinner. Marlon took her down to the street and to a motorcycle parked at the curb. Without apology, he helped her aboard the back seat and started off in a roar of exhaust noises. It began to rain, but Marlon insisted he show her New York so they scooted around town for a couple of hours. Then Marlon took her into Central Park, lifted a bag of sandwiches from a pouch on his bike and escorted her to a dry spot under a tree, where they dined. The girl never quite got over the experience, but Marlon honestly thought he had shown her a swell time — and had done a favor for her dad. Much has been printed about Marlon Brando's clothes. Most of it has been true, but his apparent hatred for anything resembling normal attire is not a gimmick. It is truly an eccentricity. This writer once saw him wearing a blue suit, and asked him who got him into a store long enough to buy one. "I bought this from my agent," he said. The fact that his agent was 40 pounds lighter, several inches shorter and of an entirely different build didn't matter. Marlon wore the suit without alterations and considered his wearing it at all a concession to society. On the Aaron Slick from Punkin Creek set, Martha Stewart was discussing a certain well-known Hollywood actor and playboy, who gives every girl the once -over. "Yeah," said Martha, "he takes 'em out once and it's aff over." Living quarters have always been something of a problem to Marlon in New York. Landlords don't care to rent to him because of his passion for playing Bongo drums at all hours of the night. He once inserted an ad in the Saturday Review of Literature asking for an apartment, which read: "Wanted: an apartment — any old thing." A girl who dated Marlon one night tells of his Bongo drums routine. He sits his girl on a chair, gets the drums out, turns off the lights and in a tiny flicker of a candle beats the skins into the wee small hours of the morning. When the evening is over, he considers he has been an entirely considerate and entertaining host. There are a hundred other tales of Marlon Brando's eccentricities, but all they do is confuse the portrait of the man because they are not understood. Within himself Marlon Brando is net an unusual person at all. He lives by a strict code, which forbids lying and cheating. He either likes or dislikes a person, seldom either violently. He has been known to give his overcoat on a bitter cold day to a stranger without one — and to go the rest of the winter coatless because he never got around to buying another. The elaborate accommodations generally prepared for a star on location are wasted on him. During the filming of Zapata at Arizona, Marlon slept on the ground most of the time and ate with the grips. With the exception of a young comedian named Wally Cox, Marlon Brando has no intimates. He has a tremendous liking and respect for Elia Kazan, but Cox is his only pal. They share an apartment in New York, but that is just the starting point from which to go places. His other friends are numerous but net fully accepted. Marlon drops in on them unexpectedly at any hour of the day or night and will stay, without invitation, for an hour, a day, or a month, depending on his enjoyment. In the matter of money, IVTarlon Brando is entirely without responsibility. His income is huge, but he never sees it. The checks are sent to his father who invests the money in a cattle ranch which Marlon has never seen. The" boy is given $150 a week on which to live — and he generally spends it within an hour or so after he has received it. From that point until he gets his next check, he puts the bite on anyone he meets. This is not due to a chiseling nature, but to the fact that money means absolutely nothing to him— and he thinks everyone else feels the same. IVTarlon Brando is an avid student of 1TJ everything. His main interest is the theater — at the moment — but he studies everything that momentarily appeals to him from tinsmithing to psychology. He is a good talker, but rarely proves it. And when he is in a conversation and a word is used that is unfamiliar to him, he promptly asks the full and definite meaning. If it can't be given,, he gets a dictionary and looks it up. When he reads he becomes so absorbed in the material that a gun could be fired in the same room and he probably wouldn't hear it. Although he is the epitome of male animalism on the screen he is entirely opposite in person. He has the physique you see in pictures, but the camera does something to his face to make it hard. Actually, his face is small, his features sensitive and his voice low and reserved in tone. His tremendous shyness is evident in his offscreen manner. He is quick to laugh heartily and quick to cry. His appetites are as healthy as his oddities. During dinner at my house he took one look at a plate of fried chicken and, although there were four of us at the table, proceeded to polish it off as though it were his alone. He ate with such relish that the rest of us sat and watched fascinated, not daring to haye another piece for fear we'd break the spell of his enjoyment. If he feels like taking a bit of exercise, he might hop out of his clothes, into a pair of bathing trunks and run through the city or countryside for 10 miles. If he falls temporarily in love with a craft, he will devote his every waking hour to it. And when he meets a girl he really likes, he will never leave her side until driven away. It is the carefully considered opinion of professionals in Hollywood that Marlon Brando is the finest, most vital actor to come to films in rrany years. When A Streetcar Named Desire was premiered, most of the stars requesting tickets had seen the picture once or twice before, but wanted to see Brando act again. His work is, according to the experts, inspired and technically flawless — an unusual situation, indeed. He will be back in Hollywood again to make more pictures, but until then he will be remembered well for his last act here. Walking into the ticket office of the Los Angeles airport, carrying a pet (which happened to be a raccoon) in his arms, he asked for two tickets. The clerk pointed to the pet and asked what it was. "He is a friend of mine," said Marlon. "I want one of the tickets for him." The clerk said the line didn't carry animals, and for an hour, Marlon stood there, holding up the line, while he attempted, with all the logic at his command, to convince the salesman that the raccoon was actually human. He did it, but the brass of the line said nix — so Marlon took the train. You can take Marlon Brando or leave him. Just don't sell him short. There is no subterfuge in him and he does not try to be a character. He just is one. Period. The End