Film #35: A Streetcar Named Desire

Director: Elia Kazan

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: once (about twelve years ago.)

Teaser Review (no spoilers)

Loopy, pretentious southern belle moves in with sister and her abusive, salt-of-the-earth, meat-head husband in New Orleans.

Uncut Summary (The full monty, spoilers included. Fair warning)

In a rough quarter of 1950s New Orleans, the young and beautiful Blanche Dubois (Vivien Leigh) steps off of a train. She finds her sister, Stella, at a nearby bowling alley with her husband, Stanley (Marlon Brando). Blanche is searching for refuge at Stella and Stanley's house since the last bit of the family estate, Belle Reeve, is now lost. Stella welcomes her sister to stay with her and her husband, though Blanche is far from forthcoming and Stella and Stanley's place is modest, to say the least: a tiny tenement shared by several other people.

At Stella and Stanley's, things become trickier. Upon hearing Blanche's tale of the sale of Belle Reeve, Stanley begins to show the man he is. The handsome and imposing but territorial man that he is realizes that anything sold to his sister-in-law is, according to Louisiana law, half his. He sees Blanche as an interloper, and perhaps even a con artist who will merely take up limited space in his apartment.

One of Blanche & Stanley's earliest confrontations.

Months wear on, Blanche stays, and things become gradually more tense. Stanley and Stella show themselves to have a textbook abuser/victim, co-dependent relationship. Blanche quite heavily puts on the airs of a southern sophisticate, though the job is a bit poor and neurotically desperate. The brutish Stanley grows ever more frustrated and begins to dig into Blanche's past. What he finds is that Blanche, far from being an innocent victim of encroachment, was at the heart of a scandal in her and Stella's hometown. She had an “inappropriate relationship” with a 17-year-old student and was relieved of her duties. In addition to this salacious story, Stanley also uncovers various rumors that Blanche had been a months-long resident in the nearby town of Auriol, where she “entertained” many different men until she was kicked out of her hotel.

Just before and as Stanley is uncovering these dark details of Blanche's past, his friend, Mitch (Karl Malden) falls deeply in love with Blanche, seeing her as a true southern gentlewoman. Mitch is a lonely man, getting on in years, and sees Blanche as an undreamed of chance at marital happiness with a beautiful woman. One evening, while out with Mitch, Blanche has a moment of clarity, drops her guard, and confesses to a traumatic experience from her past: As a teenage girl, she had inspired the love of a young man. However, the young man learned that he could not be with her and killed himself. This seemed to create a fracture in Blanche's mind. One that never fully healed in the subsequent years.

The psychological fissure continues to be pulled apart by the forces at play in New Orleans: Mitch's desperate desire for her hand in marriage, her sister's need to know just how she can help, and, most strongly, Stanley's scalding rage at her mere presence and demand that she move out. Everything comes to a head on the night that Stella goes into labor and is brought to the hospital. Left alone with the mentally fragile Blanche, Stanley unloads on her. He bullies her, both physically and mentally, culminating in rape, and she snaps. Stella returns to her apartment to find her sister in mental shambles.

In the end, Blanche is taken away by people from a mental institution, under the auspices of taking a cruise with a past gentleman caller. Unable to any longer tell fantasy from reality, Blanche eventually goes, uttering the well-known line, “I've always relied on the kindness of strangers.” Watching impassively all through the heart-rending affair is Stanley, all but counting the seconds down that he will get his tortured sister-in-law out of his life. Mitch is present and is disgusted with Stanley's insensitivity, but nowhere near as disgusted as Stella. She takes their baby to the upstairs neighbors, swears never to return to such a callous man, and closes the door behind her.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (Done after this most recent viewing, before any further research)

This is a weird one for me. Great story, great acting, fantastic direction. In fact, I can only think of one thing that I didn't like. Unfortunately, that one thing will keep me from ever watching this movie or the play again. What was the one thing?

A heaveh suhhthuhhhn drawuhl, maaahh deeyuh.

You can chalk this one up to being a peccadillo of mine, since it really makes no great sense. There aren't really too many accents that get on my nerves. When you add in the fact that I was raised in Texas, you wouldn't think that a southern drawl would bother me very much. Yet, in Streetcar, Blanche DuBois's accent is (intentionally) so put on and heavy that I couldn't take it. It merely accentuates (yuk-yuk) how flimsy the veneer is that she's trying to keep up.

Here's how I know I lost my rationality watching this film: I was actually pulling for Stanley for the better part of the movie. I did come around at the end, and see him for the detestable gorilla that he is; however, for most of the film, I wanted him to burn down the paper palace that Blanche had tried to construct around herself. I'm not exactly sure if this development was Tennessee Williams' intent, but I was so agitated by Blanche's airs that I wanted them utterly annihilated, even if it was done to satiate a modern day Thug like Kowalski.

Here's the famous "Stella" scene, which all by itself conveys the nature of the abusive relationship and primal, animalistic lust that Stanley inspires:



I can only liken this bizarre accent hatred of mine to the way that we all dislike certain foods – you can't fully explain why you don't like it – you just don't like it. I suppose its a testament to the tale that I was pulled back from the brink of seeing Stanley as some kind of blue collar hero, and actually seeing him for the lout that he is. In this spirit, let me move past my displeasure at Blanche DuBois's over-the-top Louisiana lilt and take a look at the many strengths of the film.

The story, while crushingly depressing, is brilliant. Blanche is an immediate enigma who we are interested in learning more about, just as Stanley is. Hers is one of the finest examples of character development through slow reveal that I've ever seen. I went from seeing her as merely arrogant to hopelessly selfish to pathetically abused, and finally to sadly wasted. While she does make this transition within the tale itself, the gradual revelations about her past offer different facets and causes for her twisted attempts at gaining attention. When I realized that she has, essentially, been used up and crushed by an unknowable number of people in her past, I saw her as far more sympathetic.

Stanley is, of course, the force of nature that makes things move in this story. His relationship with Stella seemed to lay bare all of the details of abusive relationships that now seem shamefully cliched: verbal bullying and physical abuse followed by the woman leaving him, only to return when he feels remorse. The remorse is certainly authentic, but born of a sad realization that he has harmed the one person who seems to understand and love him. Things calm down for a while, and then the cycle begins again. In the middle of such a dysfunctional relationship, a mentally ill person like Blanche doesn't stand a chance.

The performances are, truly, extraordinary. While his mumbling, guttural linguistic style was starting to settle in for this role, Marlon Brando is frighteningly believable as the barbaric Stanley Kowalski. As in roles like The Wild One and On the Waterfront, he was a slick-looking head-turner. This makes it all the more powerful when you see him turn into a reprehensible animal.

Vivien Leigh is the other obvious standout. As hard as I found it to sit through the interminable front that she puts up as Blanche, her performance is of undeniably brilliant quality. In a sense, she's almost like the dark, battered version of her role as Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With the Wind (a film that I really can't stomach). The nuances of shifting from manipulative to pathetic are so skilled that the uniquely sad character of Blanche is wholly plausible. When I look at it objectively, I can't deny how incredible Leigh truly was.

The semi-sleeper is Karl Malden, who does a great job as Mitch, the kindly, if somewhat dim, man who falls for the broken Blanche. Even if I didn't really identify with him, I had to come down on his side as being deeply saddened by Blanche's ultimate fate and fully sickened by the actions of his once-pal Stanley.

A Streetcar Named Desire is, without a doubt, a great story, and one which Elia Kazan did a masterful job of adapting to the screen. I almost regret not being able to get past that one trivial aural bugaboo of mine so that I would be able to watch and appreciate its merits again. Alas, I can't.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (Done after further research)

Not much that's terribly surprising about this film in the articles and reviews, though the adaptation process contains some familiar plot-lines.

Tennessee Williams' original play apparently was even more brutal, dark, and vague in terms of the character representations. In the film, it's rather clear that Stanley in meant to be seen as more of a villain, and Blanche more sympathetic, even if neither one of these characterizations is black or white. This is more pronounced by the “punishment” of Stanley in the film version, by way of Stella leaving him at the end. The play is far less clear-cut, with Stella actually seeking comfort in her brutish husband's arms.

According to articles, including the original TIME magazine article, Streetcar was one of the earliest movies to truly deal with “adult” themes. Or at least, deal with them as much as it could within the confines of the Production Code, which was still in evidence, even if its grip was beginning to loosen.

Within the original TIME review, it was interesting to see that the reviewer was not really impressed with Vivien Leigh's performance, thinking that she was outdone by the surrounding cast. I can't say that I agree, as I think that Leigh was excellent. Just couldn't get past that da-yuhmn ayk-se-yunt.

That's a wrap. 35 down. 70 to go.

Coming Soon (I hope): Umberto D. (1952)


The list finally turns back to some foreign-language entries, though this is one I know nothing about. We shall see how it goes.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #24: Casablanca (1942)

Director: Michael Curtiz

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: 4 or 5 (last seen about 6 months ago)

20-Words-or-Fewer Summary (no spoilers):

Jaded club owner/ex-mercenary is reunited with past love, wife of underground Nazi resistance movement leader. Romance and adventure ensue.

Full Blow-by-Blow (a detailed summary, with spoilers. Fair warning):

World War II has completely erupted and the Axis is steadily marching through Europe. In the Moroccan city of Casablanca in northeast Africa, hordes of refugees are scrambling for freedom and desperately searching for ways and means to escape from the carnage. Casablanca is now a city filled with expatriates, rich and poor, and scoundrels looking to take full advantage of their desperation.

One semi-safe haven is the swinging night club Rick's Cafe Americain, run by American expatriate and former soldier-of-fortune, Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart). Rick is a world-weary man who seeks nothing more than to operate a viable club, clearly stating that he won't "stick his neck out for nobody." Despite this callous decree, Rick is a man who has a hidden soft spot for those he sees as decent people, and who privately despises the Nazis and their fascist ideals.

The four main players, left to right: Rick, Renault, Lazlo and Ilsa

One night, local scumbag Ugarte (Peter Lorre) shows up in Rick's, asking him to stash two exit visas, exceptionally valuable commodities in Casablanca, that Ugarte has stolen from a pair of Nazi couriers whom he has killed. Rick agrees, but Ugarte is promptly seized and killed trying to escape. Overseeing the action is the local corrupt police chief, French Captain Renault (Claude Raines) and newly-arrived Nazi Major Strasse. Strasse has arrived to find and contain escaped resistance leader Victor Lazlo, a Czechoslovakian who has suffered in a concentration camp, escaped, and continued to fight for freedom from Nazi rule.

Lo and behold, Lazlo appears, and he's not alone. With him is his beautiful wife, Ilsa Lind (Ingrid Bergman). When the pair show up at Rick's, the normally stoic Rick sees Ilsa and slips into a deep, depressive reverie. After being cordial to Victor and Ilsa, we learn that, prior to arriving in Casablanca, Rick had fallen in love with Ilsa in Paris just before the Nazis rolled in and took over. Rick had planned to flee Paris with Ilsa, but was left standing at the train station with his piano-playing comrade, Sam, and an extra train ticket. Devastated, Rick flees, not knowing what became of his love.

In modern Casablanca, Rick's heart has become hard. When Ilsa and Victor ask for his help in acquiring exit visas, he refuses, despite having the visas stolen by Ugarte. Ilsa eventually reveals that, when she and Rick were together in Paris, she was still married to Victor, though she had then thought him dead. Shortly before Rick's flight from Paris, she had learned that her husband still yet lived, and she abandoned Rick to return to her husband. Even this revelation seemingly fails to move Rick.

As Major Strasse tightens the noose around Victor, he and his wife become more desperate. Rick cooks up a scheme by which he plans to use the two exit visas for himself and the now exhausted and complicit Ilsa, apparently to leave Lazlo to the mercies of the Nazis. However, when all of the different forces converge on an airstrip, Rick offers a final surprise: he gives the visas to Ilsa and Victor and gets them on a plane, granting them their freedom. To boot, he guns down Major Strasse, a terribly severe crime that is overlooked by Captain Renault, who re-embraces his own past convictions. Victor and Ilsa fly away into the night, and Rick and Renault saunter off to who-knows-where, to fight for the Allied cause in even more distant lands.

Love and ideals conquer all.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (done after this most recent viewing of the film, before any research):

Citizen Kane may be the most innovative and artistic work in the history of major American films, but Casablanca is the absolute pinnacle of what mainstream Hollywood can ever achieve in terms of storytelling. I can't think of a movie that has a tighter script, more memorable classic lines, and as solid a cast as this all-timer.

At the very start, things are a touch droll. During the initial scan through the city, we are treated to various scenes that convey the sense of wonder that is the thrumming populace. For the first five minutes or so, we see people getting robbed, suspected refugees shot, and even a young woman looking up at a departing plane and, dreamy-eyed, declaring, "Do you think we'll be on that plane one day?" Such a cheese-tastic line almost had me wondering just why I like this film so much.

Then, a reverse of my The Lady Eve experience occurs.

That film had an amazingly strong beginning, then faded significantly as it went along. Casablanca just gets better and better as the story unfolds. Every major and minor character is memorable, right down to the bartender in Rick's. Every scene and line of dialogue advances the story or reveals something essential about a character. And yet, despite the film being an economical hour and forty-two minutes long, it at no time seems rushed. There are quiet, ponderous moments, just as there are moments of high intrigue and suspense. The cocktail is mixed so perfectly that you don't even realize that you're being intoxicated until you've got that stupid grin on your face.

The lines. Those who haven't seen this film may not realize just how many classic lines come from this movie. When I first watched it back when I was about 21 years old, my initial thought was, "Man, that line was another cliche." Shortly after that first notion, I realized that this movie was the source for all of the cliches:

"Play it, Sam." (there is no "again," as some may have you believe)

"Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine."

"Here's looking at you, kid."

"Round up the usual suspects."

"Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

There are plenty more, including this favorite gem of mine (sorry there's no clip, just the link):

"I was misinformed." Just count how many great lines are in this 2:30 bit of the film.

In between all of these more renowned lines are tons of others. Throughout nearly the entire film, I was smirking at the clever digs and cynical observations of everyone involved. The true stars of the show, though, are Humphrey Bogart and Claude Raines, who get the best lines and deliver them masterfully.

More needs to be said of Bogart and Raines. The other actors are excellent, including Bergman, Henried, Lorre and the others. However, when Bogie shows up as Rick, he becomes the stuff of legend. His weary hangdog face, subtle gestures, one-of-a-kind voice, and effortless delivery are cinematic platinum. His sarcasm is authentic and timelessly funny, his anger is intense, his depression is heart-rending, and his compassion, though sparing, is wholly redeeming. I can't possibly imagine any person playing the role as well, and no actor has filled the slot left in Hollywood once Bogart left.

Raines is the sleeper of this one. Though not as prominent as Rick, he's the character whose scenes you're waiting for. While he's mostly comic relief, like most of the characters aside from Ilsa, Victor, and Major Strasse, Raines is far superior to them all. His officious posture and self awareness as a playfully corrupt official are as entertaining and unique as they come. He's slimy, to a degree, but one whom you know has a good heart buried under all of that manicured vice. He and Rick pairing up at the airfield and heading out to unknown horizons on the war front is arguably the greatest ending a Hollywood film has ever had.

Here's one of Renault's greatest lines:

Of course, in addition to all of this is the time when the film was released. The U.S. had just seriously committed to engagement in WWII, so the collective emotions of the nation were focused on the goings on in Europe and northern Africa. If you keep in mind the uncertainty of things in those years, the film's story of love and hope becomes far more potent. As great as it is today, I can only imagine how much better it would have been to see it back in 1942.

There it is. With Casablanca, you arguably get: the greatest tale told in film, some of the greatest characters in film, the greatest lines in film, and the greatest ending in film. These things are the reasons that people have been trying for nearly 70 years to match Casablanca in terms of smoothness, tone, characterization, dialogue, and storytelling. Long before Steven Soderberg went at it, many have tried and come close, but none have matched it, in my view.

If you haven't seen this film yet, you only have two choices: watch it immediately or renounce any claim as a movie lover.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (done after some further research):

As with Citizen Kane and other mammoths of film history, Casablanca has been studied and critiqued endlessly, if not for exactly the same reasons. It's a fascinating film since, while it can be called "sophisticated hokum," as one of the original script readers put it, there's a timeless charm that is exceptionally rare, though not elusive.

While the casting went through many iterations, one stood out to me. The Rick Blaine character was originally to be given to...are you ready? Ronald Reagan. Oof. I really can't get my mind around that one. I know Reagan had some clout back then, but anyone who's seen this movie can see why my eyes go wide when I consider this.

Another fairly interesting fact is that World War II itself indirectly (as well as directly) contributed to the greatness of Casablanca. Many of the supporting actors were themselves real refugees who had been prominent actors in their home countries, such as Germany, Bulgaria, Czechoslovakia, and others. This goes a long way to explaining why even the bit parts are so well played. I was a bit surprised at how dismissive the original TIME review was in regards to Raines' Captain Renault character. Bush-league?

In learning about the story and script I picked up that, in the film (it was adapted from an unproduced play called Everybody Comes to Rick's), Rick's background is left intentionally vague. In the play, it is revealed that in America, he was a lawyer with a wife and children. By omitting this, and only filling in the occasional detail about Rick's past fighting against fascist regimes, we're left with a more mysterious figure. To me, this is a fantastic example of skillful story editing.

Director Michael Curtiz was hailed as one of the great directors of his day. The surprising thing is that, apparently, he was not much of a "story" man. So much so that one writer explained that Curtiz didn't get along with writers and couldn't talk to them because, "He didn't know what the hell we were talking about." Rather, Curtiz was a master of scenes and working with actors. He may not have been able to create or adapt and tale, but once you gave it to him, he knew exactly how to translate it to film.

Something that I totally overlooked in my first take was the music. I think that this is because it's such a part of the fabric of the movie that I didn't give it much thought. It is excellent, and of course the song "As Time Goes By" is just as memorable as any of the classic lines of dialogue. Intriguing is the fact that the original music director didn't like the song, but wasn't able to find an alternative in time for the film's rushed release. I guess he had to eat a little crow on that one.

All of this is the slenderest tip of the iceberg of study that can be done on this movie. As opined above, Casablanca is not a masterpiece of high art or the culmination of genius. This film is not the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Rather, it's more like the most superbly crafted wooden chair. All of the pieces have been carefully carved and fit together just the way that they need to. You can sit down, lean back, run your hands over the supply curved arms, relax and marvel at how such a seemingly simple thing can be so rare and enjoyable. While it's perfection may invite overanalysis, there's no real need - just enjoy it.

Greatest ending ever? If not, it's in the discussion:

That's a wrap. 24 shows down. 81 to go.

Coming Soon: Double Indemnity (1944):

Number 3 in the 1-2-3 combo of some of my favorite films is this film noir classic. Barbara Stanwyck makes her third appearance of TIME's list, this time as a true femme fatale. I'm all geared up for another viewing of this back-stabbing, double-dealing yarn of lust and betrayal. Good, clean fun.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.