I Can Never See A Patient Walk Out Of Here, Never: The Men (1950)

The social issue film can often prove to be a contentious space of filmmaking one that delves into narrative misdirection by either focusing too deeply on one issue or grazing over the subjects in very troubling terms.  When you add the subject of disability into this particular construct things become even more frustrating in their lack of proper execution, a genre that suffers heavily from exploitation of characters, while also proving a place for actors to assure Oscar wins for being able bodied in a disabled role.  Essentially, while I do find Daniel-Day Lewis' performance in My Left Foot to be absolutely astounding, I am also aware that this role could have been provided to a truly disabled individual and achieved a tangible reality.  All this aside, I find it a considerable challenge attempting to locate films that focus on disability without it becoming an act of overt, privileged sympathy or a space for actors to grandstand in hopes of receiving accolades.  The Men, the film known for launching the career of Marlon Brando, does have moments where his Stanislavsky influenced method acting does result in broken glass and growling on the then still evolving actor, however, considering that it manages to situate itself almost entirely in the space of a Veteran's Affairs office, it takes time to delicately touch upon the identity, and more importantly, the embodying of a disabled self.  Wherein other works on this subject purposefully shy away from acknowledging issues of self and other, able and disabled, The Men constantly makes this a reality, lingering on the immobility or struggled movement of the bodies whose legs, while still present, are entirely inoperable.  Taking on even more layers, the film notes how longing and gendered desire factor into the disabled self and how even when dealing with a person struggling with disabilities a moments hesitation can carry dire consequences.  Furthermore, were these all not justifications enough to adore this movie, which is stunningly shot and compose, it includes a young Jack Webb rocking a beard and at one point drunkenly reciting Shakespeare and these are pretty much the very things that compose my dreams.  The Men is a masterpiece in social realism that deserves mention in the same space as To Kill A Mockingbird.

The Men centers on a group of soldiers who are shown engaging in combat, specifically Ken (Marlon Brando) who are injured while in the line of fire.  Ken is indeed shown writhing in pain as he slowly loses feeling in his legs.  The narrative then jumps to Ken in a dark room of a hospital bemoaning his very existence, refusing to even acknowledge a possibility of rehabilitation and projecting anger at the world around him.  Ken, of course, is not the only member of the hospital, which is full of other disabled veterans, all overseen by the optimistic and stern Dr. Brock (Everett Sloane).  The other members of the hospital include the horse gambling aficionado Leo (Richard Erdman) and the soft spoken Angel (Arthur Jurado) whose particularly agility despite being a paraplegic has earned him the title of Tarzan.  Furthermore, the group includes the leader of a Disabled Veterans Activism Group named Norm (Jack Webb) who approaches the issues of his specific community with unwavering optimism.  Between advocating for his patients continually working in rehabilitative therapy, Dr. Brock also attempts to lecture the families of paraplegics in the issues they will face once reintroduced into a non-disabled friendly world.  During one lecture, Dr. Brock is approached by Ellen (Teresa Wright) who purports to be a former girlfriend of Ken, admitting to having followed him to various hospitals only to have him refuse to meet with her, clearly ashamed of his disabled body.  While Dr. Brock initially sides with Ken's choice, he seems to realize that Ellen could prove to be the exact point of inspiration necessary to push through physical therapy.  The angry Ken appears dismissive at first, but when Ellen proves persistent, he agrees, hoping that he can make it through enough therapy to stand on his own during their wedding.  This challenge is also faced with the loss of patients to death and a continual awareness of the ways in which disability is severely limiting.  It is not long after their wedding, that Ellen has a moment of hesitation when Ken becomes frustrated, resulting in his leaving in a fit of rage, becoming AWOL in the process.  Through dedication on the part of Dr. Brock and some stern decisions on the part of Norm, Ken is able to have a last minute wake up call returning to Ellen and accepting her as a beneficial force in his life.

The way in which this film works with disability is fascinating in both a historical and theoretical framework, attempting to deconstruct the ways in which both intersect in the world.  Given that it is situated in a veteran's hospital affords it, in the context of 1950, a decidedly masculine twist, taking on feelings of lack and castration which are drawn upon, when the various characters forced those with privilege and ability to acknowledge their lack.  Indeed, when individuals like Ellen and other women invade the space it is almost out of curiosity and desire in a point of similarity, as opposed to unrestrained desire for the privileged able body.  The camera seems equally curious to consider how one desires the disabled body, resting on the fit and attractive body of Brando as he swings across parallel bars or simply lies in his bed severely immobile.  Brando can be desired and gazed upon in a unique way that would not quite work in the ways it would in later films, here lacking the desire of drag or queerness, but instead being a hyper-masculine figured incapacitated.  More contemporary works on this subject, mostly in the documentary sense seem to have reappropriated the masculine through sports, indeed a place where many disabled men are able to find their maleness again, thus finding shades of normalcy in the process.  This notion is perhaps most evident in the captivating documentary Murderball.  It is not small accident that Ken comes to rediscover his legitimacy through playing sports with his fellow patients, thus again asserting masculine prowess.  Yet, The Men seems hesitant to make this the ultimate answer to how to deal with disability, also offering outlets through embracing intellectualism as does Norm, whose quick mind and wit seem to be his method of confronting his lack.   For both men, however, failure still arises and their lack is still a reality, the closing moments of the film move into a decidedly melodramatic space, wherein Ken awakens to his, to borrow a term from Linda William's bodily sickness and it is his acceptance that Ellen is a force of aid that he moves to a new awakening.  Ken will always internalize his paraplegic self, but according to The Men, those willing to help should not be ignored, particularly those doing so out of the deepest feelings of love.

Key Scene:  Jack Webb drunk reciting Shakespeare.  Perfection.

Buy this movie, it should be more widely seen.

I've Always Depended On The Kindess Of Strangers: A Streetcar Named Desire (1951)

Elia Kazan is perhaps one of a handful of well-established auteur oriented directors who fails to receive the credit and praise due his way, I mean the guy did make On The Waterfront, a film I plan to revisit when the Criterion bluray drops next week, although amidst all the work and other films I have on my docket it may be awhile before I actually get around to doing just that.  Regardless, A Streetcar Named Desire was one of the many "shame list" films I felt terrible for having never seen, partially because of my own admiration for Kazan, detached entirely from his problematic relationship with the House Un-American Activities Committee.  It certainly does not help that it is one of the most quoted films based off of one of America's most well-known plays.  This set of standards, undoubtedly, clouded my expectations for the film and I will admit that for a better part of the first act I was uncertain that I was really prepared to embrace its presence.  Yet, as the film unfolded and I became invested in the chiaroscuro world of Louisiana depicted within the, Kazan's masterful use of the subtle melodrama and yet another brilliant performance by Brando, I was in love with the film by its closing scene.  Of course,  somewhere in the back of my mind I was completely aware of the plot and nature of A Streetcar Named Desire, but that did not manage to make this cinema classic any less enigmatic.  This film, much like Kazan's Waterfront, or even his slightly problematic Pinky, manage to exist within a sphere that somewhat represents reality yet so continually betrays it as to be something of a metaphor, one that suggests entrapment, disillusion and everything that has become jaded as a result of the loss of the American Dream, which is rather surprising considering that the film, not to mention the play existed well before realizations of the true abyss that would be the fifties unfolded.  No character within A Streetcar Named Desire could be remotely described as possessing redeeming qualities, yet they are depicted in such a stark and honest manner that it is near impossible not to pity them to some degree.  Essentially in create a film that discredits everything a viewer assumes to be America, Kazan manages to somehow make one of the most American films ever imagined.  Also, I will admit my ignorance, in that I thought "desire" was a metaphor, and while it still may be the case, it is also very much the name of the streetcar as well...who knew.

A Streetcar Named Desire begins with the arrival of one of literatures most iconic women Blanche Dubois (Vivien Leigh) a mysterious and sultry woman who has travelled from Mississippi to meet up with her sister Stella (Kim Hunter) who she believes to be living the grand life in New Orleans, a illusion that is immediately shattered when she finds her living within a dilapidated house along with her husband Stanley Kowalski (Marlon Brando), never mind the fact that the couple is expecting a baby.  Nonetheless, Blanche clings to the illusion of her sister's traditional nature and assumes the best, even falsely believing Stanley to be a stand-up guy despite his constant drinking and generally negative behavior towards Stella.  In fact, it is not so much the crumbling relationship between two sisters that becomes central but instead the burgeoning resentment between Stanley who believes Blanche to be dishonest about her past, particularly regarding the means by which she obtains her various luxuries, particularly her strings of pearls and a dress that appears to be made of gold, as Stanley so eloquently puts it.  Blanche is no kinder to Stanley claiming that he is an ignorant brute and finds her notions affirmed when during one drunkenly impassioned argument Stanley actually lays hands on Stella.  Despite Blanche's concerns, Stella returns to Stanley and things pan out with a degree of discomforting normalcy, yet when Blanche begins spending large amounts of time with Mitch (Karl Madden) a friend of Stanley's, he begins to dig deeper into the dark past of Stella's sister.  It is revealed that Stella certainly has her own dark past she is running from, one that may entail a considerable amount of less than "ladylike" behavior, leading to the penultimate confrontation in the film where Stanley and Blanche argue about values and appearances leading to Stanley violently attacking Blanche and perhaps raping her in the process, although on the following day when Stanley has a disheveled and distraught Blanche committed to an insane asylum, he swears innocence.  Regardless, the actions of the night prior prove to be the last straw for Stella who finally leaves Stanley in the film's closing scenes.

The film is somewhat overshadowed by an implied rape which is not to be taken lightly, but it must be considered that if this were solely a film about an individual losing out to the aggressions of an angry, virulent male it would not have such a well established and seminal place in both American theater and film.  I would argue that the film manages to remain a cinematic standard, which is often placed high on the list of American cinema, as well as global cinema, results from its often direct, if not always indirect,  study of a woman learning to discover her own self-identity detached from patriarchal oppression and internalized notions of her own ugliness in regards to false and vain notions of beauty.  Stella is the real point of interest within at least the film, I have not read the play entirely through so cannot speak to it with any authority.  She is always and at once suffering from a variety of indefinable women's issues that have come to demarcate feminist politics and rhetoric since the films original debut.  Firstly, she suffers in a clearly abusive relationship, but cannot escape her situation due to the economic binds of lacking self-suficiency as well as a place with which to escape to, only causing her being relegated to a small space within an already cramped domestic space all the more tragic.  Similarly she suffers from the misdirected assumptions of an idealized femininity tied to Blanche who believes in the idea of a proper woman, one that is able to accrue status and respect through wealthy gifts and gentleman callers, although as the narrative makes quite clear even Blanche is incapable of navigating these waters in the ideal manner.  Finally, Stella finds herself oppressed by the societal expectations of motherhood, and despite being in an awful marriage and lacking economic grounding, norms suggest that she carries a baby to term, as in the early fifties the notion of an abortion were simply not acknowledged.  All of these oppressions combined make Stella's final departure that much more powerful, leaving the clearly staged setting of her home to enter the equally intersectional streets of New Orleans preferring the freedom of uncertainly to the assurance of discomfort.

Key Scene:  The tension that builds and then unleashes revolving around the card game was the point at which I understood the lasting effect of this film and is certainly a highlight in a film full of classic moments.

Buy this film, honestly, you have no rational reason not to.