Post by The Symbolic Sacrifice on Jul 17, 2004 16:20:58 GMT -5
Unseen Brando
His many eulogies dwelled on classic films, but what about 1997’s The Brave?
by Mike Malloy
The to-do surrounding 2001’s The Score wasn’t over the crime film’s “one last heist” storyline. No, the fuss was about the film’s cast, as both the publicity campaign and the critics touted stars Robert De Niro, Edward Norton and Marlon Brando as the three greatest actors of their respective generations. Some delighted that De Niro
and Brando, each of whom were Oscar-winning Don Vitos, finally matched acting chops onscreen, outdoing even the equally anticipated summit of Godfathers De Niro and Pacino in 1995’s Heat.
The lesson here? A Marlon Brando performance still meant something, even in the twilight of his career. And now that the master acting craftsman has recently shuffled off this mortal coil, perhaps his work will be valued even more.
This being the case, it seems peculiar that 1997’s The Brave has been entirely unavailable in the United States through normal commercial channels. An American-made film for which Brando lent his acting talents to director-star-friend Johnny Depp, The Brave did not receive a stateside theatrical release upon its completion, nor has it ever been available on commercial home video in the U.S.
This prompts the question: Is it naïve to believe the mere appearance of Brando—considered by many to be the greatest thespian since Thespis himself—should guarantee distribution for a film in the actor’s home country? Should not each Brando performance—no
matter the general quality of the film—be seen, treasured, studied?
After all, the very craft of motion picture acting owes a tremendous debt to Marlon Brando. In the early 1950s, Brando, along with Montgomery Clift, pioneered a less technical style of dramatic screen performance whose first disciple-like practitioner was no less than
James Dean. And while Brando and Clift both seem to have been influenced by the intense performances of 1940s star John Garfield, they nonetheless were innovating originals of the medium. And after
Garfield, Clift and Dean all died prematurely, Brando alone was left to age into living legend status, the sole representative of first-gen screen Method actors.
But Brando or no, The Brave remains little known and little seen in America. Perhaps the film’s heavy thematic content kept it from being picked up for distribution; the film concerns a destitute American Indian (Depp) who accepts $50,000 to be beaten to death in a snuff film. Brando plays the snuff producer, McCarthy, who is
supposed to pay the money to the Indian’s family (who live, quite literally, in the city dump).
The subject of snuff is not necessarily taboo in mainstream American cinema; witness Joel Schumacher’s 8mm. And Depp’s Brave is said
to be less explicit and disturbing than its source material, Gregory Mcdonald’s 1991 novel of the same name. So could it be that Depp himself is sitting on the film? Could he be worried this uneventful, un-involving opus—his directorial debut—might damage his
Hollywood career? The Brave was nominated for a Palm d’Or when showed at Cannes in ’97 but has consistently received critical bashings since. Some view the film as merely a vanity project, as Depp directed, starred and co-scripted (with his brother, D.P. Depp).
In any case, Brando is commanding in The Brave, playing McCarthy as a pony-tailed, wheelchair-bound, harmonica-blowing eccentric. He euphemizes snuff as “a little bit of shadowplay” and speaks eloquently of death as “a sort of necessary metamorphosis… a kind
of refinement.” He’s so convincing that the viewer is almost ready to sign on as star for McCarthy’s next lethal production.
But as with all latter-day Brando performances, it’s hard to be objective about the actor’s turn as McCarthy. Is Brando truly magnetic and pop-off-the-screen real in the role, or is the Brando screen presence—which partly relies on the viewer’s memories of such great early roles as Terry Malloy, Emiliano Zapata and Stanley
Kowalksi—doing much of the work for him?
Either way, it’s true that Brando is eminently and utterly watchable in his every performance, which is all the more reason no celluloid frame of ol’ Bud should ever be suppressed. (Scratch that; some of the outtakes from Apocalypse Now were pretty wretched.)
Unfortunately, Brando’s success rate with Depp was iffy. The two had a hit with 1995’s Don Juan DeMarco, but their next project, the Ireland-set Divine Rapture, had its financial backers pull out. The film folded after only two weeks’ production. Then came The Brave.
The pair’s last cinematic connection occurred when Depp worked a boffo Brando impression into Once Upon a Time in Mexico’s confessional scene.
The critical consensus seemed to be that Brando, in his later years, was not too concerned with his cinematic legacy — although he did conveniently become too ill to appear in Scary Movie 2 after the press accused him of diluting his body of work with the lowbrow horror spoof. Thus it’s uncertain whether the actor even minded The
Brave’s American non-release. Perhaps Brando, well known for his sympathy to the plight of American Indians, regretted that any message contained in the film went unheard in the very place where such problems may exist.
But despite any above implications that this Brando performance is wholly “lost” to Americans, with a little work Yanks too can view The Brave, either by ordering it through one of several gray-market video outfits or by buying the Asian release, all-region DVD.
Interesting article, doubt it will do anything about getting The Brave released in the US, especially if Johnny is sitting on it.
I'm sure he'd laugh about the comment that if it was released he might be worried about the damage to his Hollywood career.
Gimme a break 
Heres the link to the article...
www.ent-today.com/features/jul04/f071604_ub.htm
His many eulogies dwelled on classic films, but what about 1997’s The Brave?
by Mike Malloy
The to-do surrounding 2001’s The Score wasn’t over the crime film’s “one last heist” storyline. No, the fuss was about the film’s cast, as both the publicity campaign and the critics touted stars Robert De Niro, Edward Norton and Marlon Brando as the three greatest actors of their respective generations. Some delighted that De Niro
and Brando, each of whom were Oscar-winning Don Vitos, finally matched acting chops onscreen, outdoing even the equally anticipated summit of Godfathers De Niro and Pacino in 1995’s Heat.
The lesson here? A Marlon Brando performance still meant something, even in the twilight of his career. And now that the master acting craftsman has recently shuffled off this mortal coil, perhaps his work will be valued even more.
This being the case, it seems peculiar that 1997’s The Brave has been entirely unavailable in the United States through normal commercial channels. An American-made film for which Brando lent his acting talents to director-star-friend Johnny Depp, The Brave did not receive a stateside theatrical release upon its completion, nor has it ever been available on commercial home video in the U.S.
This prompts the question: Is it naïve to believe the mere appearance of Brando—considered by many to be the greatest thespian since Thespis himself—should guarantee distribution for a film in the actor’s home country? Should not each Brando performance—no
matter the general quality of the film—be seen, treasured, studied?
After all, the very craft of motion picture acting owes a tremendous debt to Marlon Brando. In the early 1950s, Brando, along with Montgomery Clift, pioneered a less technical style of dramatic screen performance whose first disciple-like practitioner was no less than
James Dean. And while Brando and Clift both seem to have been influenced by the intense performances of 1940s star John Garfield, they nonetheless were innovating originals of the medium. And after
Garfield, Clift and Dean all died prematurely, Brando alone was left to age into living legend status, the sole representative of first-gen screen Method actors.
But Brando or no, The Brave remains little known and little seen in America. Perhaps the film’s heavy thematic content kept it from being picked up for distribution; the film concerns a destitute American Indian (Depp) who accepts $50,000 to be beaten to death in a snuff film. Brando plays the snuff producer, McCarthy, who is
supposed to pay the money to the Indian’s family (who live, quite literally, in the city dump).
The subject of snuff is not necessarily taboo in mainstream American cinema; witness Joel Schumacher’s 8mm. And Depp’s Brave is said
to be less explicit and disturbing than its source material, Gregory Mcdonald’s 1991 novel of the same name. So could it be that Depp himself is sitting on the film? Could he be worried this uneventful, un-involving opus—his directorial debut—might damage his
Hollywood career? The Brave was nominated for a Palm d’Or when showed at Cannes in ’97 but has consistently received critical bashings since. Some view the film as merely a vanity project, as Depp directed, starred and co-scripted (with his brother, D.P. Depp).
In any case, Brando is commanding in The Brave, playing McCarthy as a pony-tailed, wheelchair-bound, harmonica-blowing eccentric. He euphemizes snuff as “a little bit of shadowplay” and speaks eloquently of death as “a sort of necessary metamorphosis… a kind
of refinement.” He’s so convincing that the viewer is almost ready to sign on as star for McCarthy’s next lethal production.
But as with all latter-day Brando performances, it’s hard to be objective about the actor’s turn as McCarthy. Is Brando truly magnetic and pop-off-the-screen real in the role, or is the Brando screen presence—which partly relies on the viewer’s memories of such great early roles as Terry Malloy, Emiliano Zapata and Stanley
Kowalksi—doing much of the work for him?
Either way, it’s true that Brando is eminently and utterly watchable in his every performance, which is all the more reason no celluloid frame of ol’ Bud should ever be suppressed. (Scratch that; some of the outtakes from Apocalypse Now were pretty wretched.)
Unfortunately, Brando’s success rate with Depp was iffy. The two had a hit with 1995’s Don Juan DeMarco, but their next project, the Ireland-set Divine Rapture, had its financial backers pull out. The film folded after only two weeks’ production. Then came The Brave.
The pair’s last cinematic connection occurred when Depp worked a boffo Brando impression into Once Upon a Time in Mexico’s confessional scene.
The critical consensus seemed to be that Brando, in his later years, was not too concerned with his cinematic legacy — although he did conveniently become too ill to appear in Scary Movie 2 after the press accused him of diluting his body of work with the lowbrow horror spoof. Thus it’s uncertain whether the actor even minded The
Brave’s American non-release. Perhaps Brando, well known for his sympathy to the plight of American Indians, regretted that any message contained in the film went unheard in the very place where such problems may exist.
But despite any above implications that this Brando performance is wholly “lost” to Americans, with a little work Yanks too can view The Brave, either by ordering it through one of several gray-market video outfits or by buying the Asian release, all-region DVD.
Interesting article, doubt it will do anything about getting The Brave released in the US, especially if Johnny is sitting on it.
I'm sure he'd laugh about the comment that if it was released he might be worried about the damage to his Hollywood career.
Gimme a break Heres the link to the article...
www.ent-today.com/features/jul04/f071604_ub.htm
