To be honest, I find it rare to watch a movie a second time and like it more than I did the first time. Often when revisiting a movie, the magical, emotional feeling is either maintained (which is still nice) or slightly diminished for me. This was the second time that I have seen On the Waterfront and it was an unexpected surprise to find that it is one of those films that is ten times better when you re-watch it. The psychological makeup of the characters becomes clearer, the suspense becomes intensified, and the appreciation for the overall filmmaking from Kazan and his amazing crew is amplified. I find there are many films that I consider great, but with each reviewing it becomes harder and harder to love. Wilder's films are like this. I remember loving Sunset Boulevard when I first saw it. Then re-watching it for my review, while still enjoyable, seemed half like a chore. What makes this film great for me, in particular, is that it takes just the right amount of aesthetic and thematic risks to tell a really unique story. And it's these peculiarities and unique moments that heighten the re-watch value I am speaking of.
The story concerns the tensions between working class dockworkers and the mob that runs their waterfront, headed by gangster Johnny Friendly. Terry Malloy (Brando) works both on the waterfront and as the lowest peon of the mob, mostly due to his brother's high standing in the organization. When the operation is put under scrutiny due to a dockworker being knocked off for whistle blowing, Terry's loyalties are tested as he and the other workers become torn between morality and the mob intimidation/aversion to "ratting". The sister of the slain dockworker, Edie (Saint), becomes involved with Johnny, complicating his situation further.
On the whole, I found this movie hard to take notes on because it was too much fun to watch. Aside from the many technical and thematic elements of note in the film, there are a few small and interesting stray bits of information that make the film rather engaging. One would be the scattering of recognizable faces in the cast. Of course, the great Marlon Brando and Eva Marie Saint lead the film. But a significant supporting role is performed by Rod Steiger, who plays the brother of Brando's character. Martin Balsam, better known as Arbogast in Psycho (1960), shows up as a police detective. Fred Gwynne (Herman Munster) has a non-speaking role as one of Johnny Friendly's goons.
One of the major things the film is distinguished by is its sexy Leonard Bernstein score. Right off the bat, the music helps bring the film to life without ever being too saccharine or calling too much attention to itself. It's beautiful on its own but also runs concurrently with scenes, completing them but not distracting from them. The music during the opening scene makes a lot of use of percussion and fast paced drumming to intensify the rapid working atmosphere of the docks. The style of the music and its role in telling the story undoubtedly inspired Paul Thomas Anderson and his musical collaborators, especially on films like Punch Drunk Love (2002) and There Will Be Blood (2007).
Of course, there's a great deal more that is often repeated as to why this movie is so great. The famous "contender" scene where Brando's acting is uncompromisingly heart wrenching and intense is the most revered moments in American cinema. The atmosphere is claustrophobic and inescapable, taking place in a moving car, depriving the characters of an exit. The famous crucifixion speech given by Father Barry (Karl Malden) is persuasive and rousing, even for a non-religious viewer like myself. And we know that regardless of his religious background, Barry's sermons have an undeniable, stark, secular truth. The final sequence of the film is the result of impromptu direction and yet it brings the emotions and actions of the story to a hypnotic and frenzied end that seems invaluable to the overall narrative of the film. It contains several iconic and striking sequences that have always been maintained as cinematic staples. And I have deep admiration for them. But since this was my second viewing, I thought it would be interesting to talk about things I responded to that I haven't seen mentioned so often. Or maybe they have and I just don't read enough.
There was something I started to think about in regards to film stories in general while watching this and that was the choice of protagonist. I think when it comes to the themes of the movie, Terry Malloy is the most fitting choice as the protagonist. He represents the victims of McCarthyism. He's a symbol for ambivalence being turned into strong conviction. Because this change is present in the character, he's the inevitable protagonist. He has the arc. But in the context of the story within the film, Edie is the "main character". She's is the quintessential crusader. The turbulent conditions of her surroundings have forced her to leave her life of passivity and seek out justice and principle. She incites a change in the community with Father Barry and she incites a change in Terry, in large part due to her being the object of his affection. And so I started to see the film from Edie's point of view, similar to the way that The Great Gatsby is told. Because the focus of that story is Gatsby. But he's not the protagonist. The path of the narrative follows Terry, but the events of the film in total, what we see and don't see, don't necessarily follow Terry. If you ask me, the events of the film follow Edie. So ultimately, the story we're being told is a very contextual one, following the person who is arguably one of the least likely people to be followed given the situation.
Among the many facets of filmmaking that get talked about with classic films, cinematography, editing, and writing are often hailed the most. And while those are passing with flying colors here, there's also great work being done in other department. Costumes, particularly fabric and textures, play a huge part of in the look and feel of the film. To start, the titles play over this woven sort of texture.
And that was something that I noticed even as a budding cinephile when I watched it for the first time. And like many things in film, it's difficult to describe what kind of impact it has. But it does achieve a very distinct, visceral effect. And if I were to put my finger on it, I would have to say it creates a certain notion for the viewer and slants the film. What I mean is, I think the immediate presence of fabrics in the aesthetic puts us on on the side of the dockers. The visual concept involving fabrics helps differentiate the working class from the mob, the proletariat from the bourgeoise. So we're seeing this stitching behind the titles and it reminds us of making clothes from scratch because we can see the work behind it. And the melancholy opening to Bernstein's score accompanies it. Now it doesn't take too long to notice how the dockers dress and how the mob dresses, or even law enforcement.
 |
| The Dockers |
 |
| The Mob |
 |
| Law Enforcement |
The film is very distinguished in its production design as well, and if not the design, then the use of location. In my essay a few months ago about Eraserhead, I talked about how David Lynch derived a lot of inspiration for that film from his experiences in Philadelphia. In addition to that, a lot of scenes were shot based on the already existing aesthetic. I also mentioned Kazan in my last review for The Searchers. John Ford gave him the advice to not look at a script and to shoot the film based on what sort of set or location you have. These two approaches to film come together in On the Waterfront to create not only a story that lives and breathes in its location but also in its sounds.
Here you can see that most shots have the bay in the background and most of them have boats as well. Things are carrying on at all times behind all of this drama. We can also see from this shot the countless rows of spikes on the fences. And trust me, the fences are everywhere. They give us a sense of constriction and possibly incarceration because all of these working class people people really are trapped in their situation, sometimes from external influences, sometimes internal.
In the same scene we get this shot:
Terry and Edie are down below Father Barry and he has instructed Terry to tell Edie what he knows about her brother's death. They've used the differences in elevation in this particular area to compose a shot that conveys Father Barry's influence as he is above them and looking down. Then there's this dead tree in the background. All the trees are dead, so we know its cold and we know its desolate. Then, of course, there's the spiked fence which places the Father on the viewing side and Terry and Edie on the viewed side. Now I mentioned sound before, too. This scene constantly has the changing of tides, the wind blowing, and mechanical sounds from the boats and the docks. When Terry tells Edie the truth, a boat horn blows obscuring the speech. As the audience, we already know what he's saying, so we don't need to hear the words. But what needs to be set up is Terry's inner turmoil and Edie's sense of betrayal. So the blaring of the steam valve is there to represent Edie's anguish and the mechanical chugging of some sort to represent the way that Terry is wrestling with his conscience. It also is remnant of a pounding heart.
Unfortunately, I can't embed the video, so here's a link.
In regards to cinematography there was one thing I really picked up on and it's also a result editing. It's a visual motif and it looks like this.
Looks like a pretty normal shot out of context. But it's important to know that the rest of the film isn't really shot like this. This is a medium shot of a person's face looking into the camera. This kind of shot happens only four times in the film. Now because of the symmetry of this kind of shot and because the subject is looking into camera, somewhat breaking the fourth wall, the image calls attention to itself. It's such that when the image appears in the scene it significantly interrupts the sequential flow. A normal scene, often inconspicuous or bustling with energy, suddenly comes to a brief standstill to include these shots. Here are the others:
 |
| Terry is being subpoenaed be detectives. Notice "Arbogast" smoking a pipe in the back |
 |
| We then cut to this perfectly symmetrical medium shot. He's not quite looking into the camera, but still |
 |
| SPOILER: Terry's young friend feels betrayed when Terry testifies against Johnny Friendly. So he kills his pigeons in retribution. The same shot. also, this kid is a damn sociopath. |
 |
| And this is one of the very last shots when (spoiler) Terry fights Johnny and walks away to work, his dignity in tact. This man speaks the last line of dialogue, "Alright, let's go to work!" |
My reaction to these moments is that they often bring a feeling of judgement or scrutiny. The first occurs after the first docker has been killed and the foreman is somewhat taunting the men by asking who wants to work. The shot this time is of a cohort of the foreman/gangster looking intently at the men, seeing if any of them speak out of turn. The next is when Terry insists he knows knows nothing about the murder and the detective played by Arbogast isn't buying it. The one of the child contains anger and malice directed towards Terry. Finally, and a bit unexpectedly, the shot of the foreman portrays acceptance, and yet it is still a judgement. A shot of Terry stopping in a daze to look at the man as well as his point of view precede this. It's like he stops to see if he's passed some sort of test.
Now this isn't a little discussed aspect of the film but I'll say it anyway because it's one of the major reasons it stands out in history. The "art imitating life" thing is strong with this one. Elia Kazan, besides having a name that sounds like a dark wizard, is also one of the most unique and creative directors from the golden era. He seriously made masterpieces for a living. At the same time he's also the target of a lot of contention because of his involvement with HUAC. Now, I wouldn't call him a straight-up McCarthyist. He was more of a...chicken? I don't know. I actually don't know the whole situation very well. But basically, instead of staying in solidarity like other filmmakers, actors, writers, etc. in the film industry, he rolled over and gave a bunch of names to the House of Un-American Activities. That was the commission that tried to reveal communists. It is now the name of my house, where we are all transliberal athiest vegan babykillers on welfare.
And Terry's struggle is often thought to be Kazan's struggle and the reason Kazan was drawn to this story. On one hand, the deep personal connection that he had to the content yields a fantastic film in terms of sound, images, symbolism, you name it. But at the same time, it's kind of morally backwards. We simply can't equate a power-hungry mob to "hollywood communists". We can't say that writers and directors just didn't want to snitch like the dockworkers. They actually didn't want to lie and destroy the lives of their peers. Difference.
I think it's forgivable because Kazan directed this film very emotionally because he identified with the subject matter. And it leads to a very expressive film. Multiple re-watchings are a must. Not only will you notice things you didn't before, but the meaning of the things you did noticed before may have evolved or become clarified.
The next film on the Registry is Nanook of the North (1922)
