Elia Kazan

  • Viva Zapata! (1952)

    Viva Zapata! (1952)

    (On TV, September 2020) The best reason to watch Viva Zapata is for Marlon Brando, and Marlon Brando is probably the best reason not to watch the film as well. Of course, that statement will hinge a lot on how you feel about Brando playing a Mexican revolutionary through a mixture of a stereotypical accent and quite a bit of mumbling. I pretty much loathed it (in keeping with a surprisingly large chunk of Brando’s filmography), and that’s probably where my review should stop. Alas, there’s more to it. Directed by Elia Kazan, featuring an Academy Award-winning supporting performance by Anthony Quinn and a screenplay by John Steinbeck (plus Daryl F. Zanuck producing), Viva Zapata is no lightweight fly-by-night production: It was intended as a prestige film, and the two things preventing the film from being recognized as an epic 1950s film are its restrained length (less than two hours) and black-and-white cinematography. It surely plays fast and loose with the historical facts—Zapata here is presented as a populist folk hero, illiterate (which wasn’t true) and utterly unremarkable from a political point of view. Worst of all is the somewhat tepid pacing and lack of sustained interest. At least Quinn is reasonably authentic. As for the rest of Viva Zapata—well, can you stand two hours of Brando mumbling? Some think that’s the best thing ever; others will want to claw their way to the exit.

  • Gentleman’s Agreement (1947)

    Gentleman’s Agreement (1947)

    (On Cable TV, April 2019) For all the flack that Hollywood social-issues drama films often get as insincere, award-begging performative exercises, they certainly can help chart the social evolution of the United States throughout the decades. Gentleman’s Agreement, having won a Best Picture Oscar (albeit being one of the most obscure winners of the award), can be considered a successful A-grade social-issues drama, and it does make for intriguing viewing. Gregory Peck is in fine likable form as a writer who, as an assignment in a new city, tells everyone he’s Jewish. Antisemitism being the topic of the film, you can imagine how well that goes: Ostracism, prejudice, snide remarks, exclusion, fights with his girlfriend and so on. Taking place in upstate New York fine society makes it more infuriating. By focusing as much on the bigotry than on the duty to stand up to bigotry, the film remains effective despite a few naïve moments and on-the-nose messages: nobody likes to think of themselves as bigot, but it’s not as obvious to be against bigotry, especially given the so-called “grown-up” desire to get along and not be perceived as a troublemaker … as happens to the protagonist here. It’s not a perfect film: the romantic ending seems to come out of nowhere—especially since the film seems to play with presenting a suitable alternative to the proudly prejudiced fiancée. It’s also a bit unlikely that a man of the world such as the lead character would be initially surprised at the prejudice he encounters as a self-proclaimed Jew—the film becomes more effective once it dispenses with the first few early scenes to show the tension in being part of that social circle and yet making sure that it is restricted from “these people.”  Finally, there’s the issue of “temporal inconvenience” that has dogged majority representation of minority issues, but let’s stop there—Gentleman’s Agreement was daring enough in 1947 that it should be assessed kindly. Few other actors than Peck or director Elia Kazan would be able to pull off the righteousness of his protagonist without coming across a sanctimonious and that ultimately is what separates Gentleman’s Agreement from other, less successful films. (There’s also the prestige A-list star treatment to help make sure this was the winning pick rather than the same year’s film noir Crossfire, but that’s an entirely different review…)

  • America America (1963)

    America America (1963)

    (On Cable TV, January 2019) It’s always interesting when a filmmaker uses the tool of their craft to tell us a story about themselves or their family. Here, we have veteran writer/director Elia Kazan helming a production (adapted from his own book) telling all about how his uncle made it from Turkey to America, with numerous obstacles along the way. It’s both a foreign film and a deeply American one, illustrating the underdog immigrant mythology that anyone is welcome to the United States and that opportunities await those willing to work for it. Viewers should be warned that America America is long: nearly three hours, and almost all of them spent in the company of the central character, in a magnificent lead performance by Stathis Giallelis—who has nearly no other screen credits to him filmography. The black-and-white cinematography does seem like a missed opportunity to present the story in an even more expansive format, but it’s easy to remain impressed by this effort to put on film a piece of Kazan’s family history.