(blah blah blah Brando blah blah)
Yesterday's specimen: The Fugitive Kind, the filmic adaptation of yet another Tennessee Williams play. Ironically, the only way I can listen to plays by Williams without laughing is if the lines are done without a Southern accent. This is, of course, ironic because they're placed in the South.
Brando is the least convincing guitarist of all time, even more so than Avril Lavigne. I think it's something to do with his eyes, because I've never seen a musician with eyes as dead as that. That being said, I did enjoy the little scene where he was strumming a little and singing Bedroll Blues.
I spent the first half of the movie annoyed at the blatant over-acting and Brando's self-parody, which at this point he was apparently unaware of. Also, giggling at the aforesaid Southern accents. It's difficult to be properly dramatic when you tack on "y'all" to the end of every sentence. Aso again, trying to figure out what everybody found so appealing about this Val "Snakeskin" Xavier, because apart from the faux-guitar-playing and walking a little funny, Brando came across as if someone was shouting "Okay, let's be quirky now!" from offscreen every so often. The idea of Val as a "peculiar talker" was a good one, but less than organic in the execution.
I was also baffled, if intrigued, by the love story between Lady and Val. It didn't make sense to me, it resonated off the wrong angles, it took me a while to get that they were indeed going there. And then I realized afterwards that the point Williams was making (I think) is that love doesn't make sense and we shouldn't expect it to. He'd created these two realistic and not particularly appealing characters and we believed that they were going to create a life together because we don't understand ourselves why we love who we love.
And then, of course, tragedy happened. By that point I had left most of my irritation and amusement behind, and it actually bothered me, the way things ended. So I suppose, after all, this one gets a tick in the "Worthwhile" box, on my great big list of Brandocation projects. It stays with you for a while.
Brando is the least convincing guitarist of all time, even more so than Avril Lavigne. I think it's something to do with his eyes, because I've never seen a musician with eyes as dead as that. That being said, I did enjoy the little scene where he was strumming a little and singing Bedroll Blues.
I spent the first half of the movie annoyed at the blatant over-acting and Brando's self-parody, which at this point he was apparently unaware of. Also, giggling at the aforesaid Southern accents. It's difficult to be properly dramatic when you tack on "y'all" to the end of every sentence. Aso again, trying to figure out what everybody found so appealing about this Val "Snakeskin" Xavier, because apart from the faux-guitar-playing and walking a little funny, Brando came across as if someone was shouting "Okay, let's be quirky now!" from offscreen every so often. The idea of Val as a "peculiar talker" was a good one, but less than organic in the execution.
I was also baffled, if intrigued, by the love story between Lady and Val. It didn't make sense to me, it resonated off the wrong angles, it took me a while to get that they were indeed going there. And then I realized afterwards that the point Williams was making (I think) is that love doesn't make sense and we shouldn't expect it to. He'd created these two realistic and not particularly appealing characters and we believed that they were going to create a life together because we don't understand ourselves why we love who we love.
And then, of course, tragedy happened. By that point I had left most of my irritation and amusement behind, and it actually bothered me, the way things ended. So I suppose, after all, this one gets a tick in the "Worthwhile" box, on my great big list of Brandocation projects. It stays with you for a while.