ONE-EYED JACKS (Brando, 1961)
Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Nov 22, 2016
Review by Christopher S. Long
I think I liked “One-Eyed Jacks”
(1961) more before the election. A film constructed almost entirely
out of lies, lies often paired with preening threats of faux-macho
violence from men desperate to portray themselves as strong even
though they're mostly just wimps, seemed a much more pleasant and
harmless thought before, y'know, the fucking election. Yeah. So.
Anyway, you've never seen a film with so many lies, the best lies
ever, believe me.
After pulling off a successful bank
heist, gunslingin' outlaw Rio (Marlon Brando) pledges his love to a
pretty senorita and gifts her a very special ring (i.e. a ring he
just stole), only to immediately yank it off her finger when he has
to stage an abrupt escape from the law. What a cad, but maybe not all
lies are bad. Rio soon turns his gift for prevarication to
surprisingly noble use. When he and his partner Dad Longworth (Karl
Malden) are hemmed in by pursuing rurales, he rigs a game of chance
to ensure that Dad is the one to gets to ride off to find help while
Rio stays behind to risk capture or even death. Too bad it turns out
that Dad's a creep ought to save his skin, abandoning Rio to five
years hard labor, a particularly grim prospect in 1880's Sonora,
Mexico.
The lies have just begun. When Rio
breaks prison and tracks down his old partner, now playing at being a
legitimate town sheriff in Monterey, CA, Dad flat-out lies to him
about what happened; Rio pretends to believe him and the clock starts
ticking down to what we might expect to be an inevitable showdown, if
we can trust anything in this dusty domain of deceit. Rio responds to
Dad's craven dishonesty with his own elaborate plan to seduce Dad's
innocent stepdaughter Louisa (Pina Pellicer) with one sadistic lie
after another, which then prompts Louisa to lie to her dad, Dad,
bolstered by her lying mother (Katy Jurado), all of which drives Dad
into an indignant rage because, dagnabbit, lying's supposed to be for
manly men.
This slowly unfolding revenge tale also
relishes in revealing the lies at the heart of much of the Western
genre. Dad's initial betrayal of Rio sets the template for a world in
which honor among thieves is a laughable concept. Both lawmen and
outlaws pay lip-service to Western shibboleths like the fair showdown
in the street, but scheme to set up confrontations where the odds
favor them heavily. The secret to a long life in the frontier West
isn't being able to outdraw the other man, but making sure you've
either emptied his gun ahead of time or hired a half-dozen snipers
for your side.
No lie, “One-Eyed Jacks” was almost
a Stanley Kubrick Western. And it's simply a statement of fact that
the man who directed the greatest science-fiction movie, the greatest
horror movie, the greatest war movie, the greatest period costume
drama, and the greatest black comedy would also have made the
greatest Western. Unfortunately, Marlon Brando gonged him off the
picture.
Like many other actors in the '50s when
the old studio system was crumbling (largely from the dual threats of
anti-trust regulation and the advent of television), Brando set up
his own production company, Pennebaker, Inc., and quested about for
his first project to develop. Pennebaker, after setting up a deal to
shoot at Paramount, eventually settled on Charles Neider's “The
Authentic Death of Hendry Jones,” a novel very loosely inspired by
Billy the Kid's life. An array of elite talent worked on the script
from Rod Serling to Sam Peckinpah to Calder Willingham, the latter
brought in when Brando hired another up-and-comer to direct, Kubrick,
fresh off the success of “Paths of Glory.”
According to possibly true legend,
Kubrick tossed out ideas while Brando indicated his displeasure by
striking his handy gong. One of several Kubrick ideas nixed by Brando
was replacing Karl Malden with Spencer Tracy, at least one case in
which Brando proved definitely correct. It's uncertain whether
Kubrick was fired or if the two willful artists agreed to a mutual
parting of ways, but Brando assumed the director's chair for the
first and last time.
The change of directors kicked off what
would become one of the most notoriously “troubled” Hollywood
shoots of the era. The production went over schedule and over budget
as Brando (along with Guy Trosper, brought in to write after
Willingham was let go with Kubrick) rewrote scenes between takes and
engaged in extensive improvisation with his cast with the cameras
running, explaining why one of the features on this Blu-ray is titles
“A Million Feet of Film.” Brando was reportedly willing to wait
for days along the coast in Monterey until the perfect waves could be
filmed in the background as the brooding Rio contemplated his next
move.
An even more tortuous post-production
process produced sprawling rough cuts and eventually a strategic exit
by Brando. Paramount took over the project and released the
141-minute version we have today with no further input from the
director and star, not even during the theatrical run nearly three
years after shooting began. Said cut therefore occupies the strange
realm of being both the “official” version and definitively not
the director's cut, allegedly with a relatively happy ending and a
simplification of the good guy/bad guy dichotomy mandated by studio
heads.
The final result is a rambling,
unwieldy film, shot in glorious Vista Vision with gorgeous coastal
shots and windswept deserts and replete with its share of
unconvincing elements, particularly the perfunctory romance between
Rio and Louisa. Yet, while it may not have fully realized Brando's
stated goal of launching “an assault upon the citadel of cliches”
the film is still, to use a technical term, “weird as hell” with
both a showdown and a bank robbery that are delayed to the point of
absurdity, and characterization that consistently confounds
expectations. Rio, most assuredly not a good man, is still genuinely
wounded by Dad's betrayal, initially resolved to the pure pursuit of
vengeance, then so confused about how to proceed the film simply
stalls out for much of the third act while he dithers.
The highlight for many viewers will be
the subtly-layered interactions between Brando and his friend Malden
as Rio and Dad's dueling visions of machismo, each composed largely
of utter bullshit, are revealed as largely impotent. Add in memorable
turns from character actors like Slim Pickens as a sleazy deputy, Ben
Johnson as a no-good sonofabitch, and Timothy Carey as, well, Timothy
Carey and it's easy to understand why this “troubled” production
has become one of the most celebrated films maudit of the
pre-”Heaven's Gate” era.
I still wish it had been a Stanley
Kubrick Western, or at least that somewhere along the line we could
have gotten a Stanley Kubrick Western because it would have the
greatest Western ever, believe me. A Marlon Brando Western, however,
is something to happy about, too. Or at least it would have about two
weeks ago.
Video:
The film is presented in its original
1.85:1 aspect ratio. “One-Eyed Jacks” fell into the public domain
at some point and has largely been available in inconsistent to
piss-poor versions on home video. This high-def version has been
sourced from a recent restoration by Universal Studios in
collaboration with The Film Foundation (the one Martin Scorsese's
involved with), no small undertaking considering the challenges of
the VistaVision format.
The result is a crystal clear image
with a vibrant color palette that nobody has seen with this film
since (perhaps) its initial theatrical release. Grain isn't quite as
prominent as I would have expected, and I don't know if that suggests
a bit more boosting than usual, but let's be honest – only the
helplessly obsessive care about that. This looks damn good.
Audio:
The linear PCM mono audio is
distortion-free and sounds sharp if not particularly deep. Brando
does the Brando-mumble from time to time, but that's what the English
subtitles are for. Spanish dialogue is only subtitled in Spanish, as
Brando did not intend to translate any of the Spanish.
Extras:
Criterion hasn't quite loaded the disc
with extras, but what they've provided is quite compelling.
First up is a brief introduction (3
min.) from Martin Scorsese who participated in the film's restoration
as part of The Film Foundation.
An unusual extra pairs Brando's voice
recordings with clips from the film. Early in the development
process, Brando recorded his thoughts about various scenes in the
script. Comparison to the final film reveals the substantial changes
along the way. At 33 minutes, this feature might need to be consumed
in pieces, but it's a fascinating insight into the grueling
development process.
“A Million Feet of Film” (23 min.)
is a video essay by Western critic Toby Roan who has spent nearly
forty years researching this film's production history. Presumably,
not every day of those forty years, but still he brings to the table
a considerable amount of detailed information from the establishment
of Pennebaker Inc. to the film's release. I took a full page of
notes, but I think it would be best for you to listen to Mr. Roan
directly.
“I Ain't Hung Yet” (24 min.) is a
video essay by critic and filmmaker David Cairns, who analyzes
Brando's directing choices and the film's relation to the Western
genre.
The extras wrap up with a lengthy
Theatrical Trailer (5 min.)
The slim fold-out insert booklet
features an essay by film critic Howard Hampton.
Final Thoughts:
Seriously, don't we all wish Stanley
Kubrick had directed a Western?
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