Two Men in a Taxicab

The two large men are squashed in the back of a taxi. Charley, the older brother just can’t keep still. This is the first scene we see where he isn’t the “cool guy,” strutting around, barking orders, or cracking a joke. He fidgets with his hands, his eyes wander, he adjusts his coat. He just can’t seem to meet Terry’s eyes. Meanwhile, Terry, the bullheaded bum little brother, slinks into his seat in a calming sadness of surprisingly emotive power. The scene begins Terry’s confrontation of the union’s power. By accepting what Terry has told him, by showing remorse and giving him the gun and the chance to leave the system, Charley both acknowledges his corruption and assures his own death.

When Marlon Brando looked at the script for this scene, he insisted on changing its direction. The screenplay used simple language throughout the movie, forcing Brando to communicate more through his actions and his expressions, a task which he excelled at and eventually won the Oscar for. Brando convinced Kazan that Terry should gently push the gun away when Charley pulls it out in the taxicab scene. He also insisted on reacting calmly to the gun and delivering the monologue with sadness rather than anger.

The result is incredibly poignant. Brando, himself a strong, muscular man, talks about his boxing failures with emotional depth, creating a shocking contrast between the audience’s expectations and the reality of the character. Both Brando and Rod Steiger (Charley) seem broken, though in very different ways. Their physical size and the closeness of the camera heightens the drama of their acting and highlights emotion over physical dominance (which has been established as the most valued attribute in this corrupt system). By the time Brando delivers the infamous like, “I coulda been a contender!” the audience’s image of him as a tough, D&D guy is completely broken, before he even confesses his love for Edie or testifies against Friendly.

To truly understand the power of Brando’s acting, here’s the text of the monologue. When you read it, without watching the scene, it sounds like an angry deadbeat complaining about the past.

It wasn’t him, Charley, it was you. Remember that night in the Garden you came down to my dressing room and you said, “Kid, this ain’t your night. We’re going for the price on Wilson.” You remember that? “This ain’t your night”! My night! I coulda taken Wilson apart! So what happens? He gets the title shot outdoors on the ballpark and what do I get? A one-way ticket to Palooka-ville! You was my brother, Charley, you shoulda looked out for me a little bit. You shoulda taken care of me just a little bit so I wouldn’t have to take them dives for the short-end money. You don’t understand. I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let’s face it. It was you, Charley.

Here’s a Youtube clip of Brando delivering the monologue. Notice how soft his voice is, despite what he’s actually saying. Notice how Steiger reacts, how he stutters and looks away. Notice how Brando slumps into the seat before and after the monologue. The acting is exquisite on both ends.

Brando was actually very upset with his performance in this scene, though critics have always lauded it as some of his best acting. In his autobiography, Brando recounts that he left the theatre at a preview screening of the movie without comment. The Academy clearly disagreed with his evaluation, and this movie, along with Streetcar, propelled Brando into success as one of the greatest actors of his generation.

Source: http://www.tcm.com/tcmdb/title/4749/On-the-Waterfront/notes.html

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