On the Waterfront
On the Waterfront (1954), a riveting drama of labor union corruption on the New York City docks, was directed by Elia Kazan and won eight Academy Awards; it has been a classic of the American cinema for nearly half a century. Reasons for its enduring appeal include a taut script by Budd Schulberg, magnetic performances by an all-star cast featuring Marlon Brando, a compelling score by Leonard Bernstein, stark black-and-white photography by Boris Kaufman, and, above all, transcendent themes that resonate across the decades with the American experience.
The film tells the story of Terry Malloy (Brando), a dock worker and former prize fighter, who turns against the union's mob leaders, including his brother Charlie (Rod Steiger) and John Friendly (Lee J. Cobb), by testifying in a federal Crime Commission investigation.
Marlon Brando in a scene from On the Waterfront.Terry's inner moral struggle is played out for the love of a good woman, Edie Doyle (Eva Marie Saint), with encouragement from Father Barry (Karl Malden), modelled on crusading waterfront priest, Father John Corrigan.
Brando brings complexity to his portrayal of the confused prize fighter, striving for decency and dignity despite pressure from his brother to keep silent about the union's criminal activities. The Oscar-winning performance is one of Brando's most memorable, conveying the subtle emotions of a simple man enmeshed by irresistible forces.
The movie reflects the historical conditions of the 1950s in subject matter and theme. Author Budd Schulberg (What Makes Sammy Run) based the screenplay on a newspaper expose of labor conditions on the New York waterfront. Men jostled for work every morning in the infamous "shape up," forming a horseshoe around foremen and vying for favors. This degrading system thrived on nepotism and violence. On the Waterfront's realistic subject matter, captured by moody black-and-white photography and a score with harsh jazz elements, places the film in an emergent realist genre of filmmaking that was turning away from the light musicals and romantic comedies of the 1930s and 1940s, to dramas about social problems such as Kazan's earlier treatments of anti-Semitism (Gentleman's Agreement) and racism (Pinky).
The film's theme rationalizes Kazan's appearance before the House Committee on Un-American Activities (HUAC) as a friendly witness. Kazan renounced his involvement in the Communist Party and gave up the names of Hollywood "fellow travelers." The hearings reflected a fierce ideological struggle, as a political movement that had held enormous intellectual appeal during the hard times of the Depression came under suspicion from Cold War fears about Communist Russian aggression and nuclear proliferation. The HUAC inquisition ruined careers, divided friends, and sent to prison ten well-known directors and writers for refusing to cooperate. Terry Malloy, in the words of Peter Biskind, "is the informer as hero." Terry's renunciation of his union "family," personified by his brother Charlie, valorizes Kazan's decision (also that of Schulberg) as the film sorts through issues of loyalty to family and friends versus duty to one's country—silence versus informing.
The film remains a favorite long after waterfront corruption and the HUAC investigations have faded from fans' minds, reaching out to new generations because it captures cultural concerns that transcend 1954 realities. In addition to the perennial dilemmas people confront in negotiating issues of personal versus national loyalty and silence versus honesty, the story embodies the heroic American vision of the good individual struggling against dehumanizing civilization, moral redemption, the Cain-and-Abel parable, and the frustration of personal failure when confronted with the forces of mass society.
Terry is a hero in the American tradition of rugged individualism, exemplified by the cowboy who rides into town, fights the outlaws, saves corrupt society from itself, then rides off into the sunset. After testifying against the mob, Terry reclaims his job in a dramatic fight. After taking a beating from mob goons, he dispatches union boss John Friendly into the river. Terry restores order to the longshore community as he, badly battered like a crucified Jesus, leads the men back to work at the urging of Father Barry. It is an ambiguous ending, critics have argued, as the huge warehouse doors close on Terry's back, suggesting entrapment in the processes of mass society as much as triumphant resolution.
Terry's decision to testify exacts a high price. He nearly loses the love of Edie Doyle when he reveals he played an unwitting role in the mob murder of her brother, Joey, killed to prevent his appearance before the Crime Commission. The plot creates a situation where "informing on criminal associates is the only honorable course of action for a just man," Biskind writes, and it is the only way that Terry can redeem himself in his own eyes, those of Edie, and his fellow dock workers.
Terry also pays for his choice when the mob kills his brother, Charlie, a variation on the ancient Cain-and-Abel theme. This exploration of fraternal conflict provides the set-piece of the movie. In a scene filmed in the tight confines of the back seat of a car that allows no escape, Terry and Charlie come to grips with their relationship with virtuoso performances by Brando and Steiger. Terry condemns Charlie for asking him to throw a fight, ending his chance at the title. Hemmed in by the imposing forces of corrupt civilization and family pressure, Terry settled for "A couple of bucks and a one-way ticket to Palookaville. It was you, Charlie. You was my brother. You should have looked out for me instead of making me take them dives for the short end money."
When Charlie demurs, Terry continues with the words that are most closely identified with the film: "You don't understand! I could've been a contender. I could've had class and been somebody." As spoken by Brando, the words have become a hackneyed cultural emblem of the film, yet remain a poignant cry of the little guy overwhelmed by the forces of family and mass society. They also express a cultural excuse for stifled ambition and dreams gone sour that places blame outside the self. Terry's words remain as timely and apt as when they first impressed audiences in 1954.
Further Reading:
Anderson, Lindsay. "The Last Sequence of 'On the Waterfront."'Sight and Sound. Vol. 24, No. 3, 1955, 127-130.
Biskind, Peter. "The Politics of Power in 'On the Waterfront."' Film Quarterly. Vol. 29, No. 1, 1975, 25-38.
Kael, Pauline. "The Glamour of Delinquency." I Lost It at the Movies. Boston, Atlantic Monthly Press/Little Brown and Company, 1965, 44-62.
Kitses, Jim. "Elia Kazan: A Structural Analysis." Cinema. Vol. 7,No. 3, 1972-1973, 25-36.
Maland, Charles J. "'On the Waterfront' (1954): Film and the Dilemmas of American Liberalism in the McCarthy Era." American Studies in Scandinavia. Vol. 14, No. 2, 1982, 107-127.
"On the Waterfront: A Defence and Some Letters." Sight and Sound. Vol. 24, No. 4, 1955, 214-216.
Stead, Peter. "The Post-War Age of Anxiety." Film and Working Class. London and New York, Routledge, 1989.
Walker, John, editor. Halliwell's Film and Video Guide 1998. New York, Harper Perennial, 1997.
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