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AMOUR PROPRE Speaking with a nasal, piss-elegant English, Marlon Brando is entertaining in his amour propre as Fletcher Christian in the 1962 Mutiny on the Bounty. Trevor Howard’s William Bligh labels him a “career fop, a posturing snob...poisoned with contempt,” and in his reds and grays regalia, in white night cap or Ming collar or in black sock béret, watching the actor steal scenes by folding a napkin, or putting his hands on his hips, or wasting time by drawing what might pass as erotic sketches, we could come to believe the put-downs. He’s the antithesis of the real Christian, who was said to be attractive but not flauntingly fastidious; in fact, he was a nervous type whose sweaty palms annoyed Bligh. Yet Brando saves the voyage: his fancy, as one of Fletch’s lady friends makes clear during the opening, is “insincere to begin with.” Showing up at the start as a poof-like costumier, he’s cueing audiences to chuckle at the dandified effrontery, and they did back in 1962, sometimes mockingly, though they couldn’t argue a lack of warning: Viva Zapata, Julius Caesar and Désirée produced moments of dicey merriment too. In addition, while disarming as a devious flamer, he’s rather remarkably going for character motivation: assessing Bligh’s cruelties—the floggings, masthead duties, near-disastrous sailing through storms, half-rations, water privations, keel-haulings, shark feedings—his Fletcher hopes for an eventual moral acquittal for the famous mutiny by the assertion that “inhumanity is its poorest servant.” There are other nifty verbal assaults, presumably less from adapter Charles Lederer and more from non-credited writers John Gay and Ben Hecht, getting beezer delivery by Brando and Howard. But major battles erupted on set over the unfinished script and its unsatisfactory ending—though any conclusion in any version would be, since we still don’t know what fully happened on Pitcairn. (Cancelled by Dino De Laurentiis over its projected cost and length, David Lean wanted to film Robert Bolt’s massive psychological take on the story, which would have delved into the mutineers’ last years on the island; the screenplay dramatically cut, with another tentative ending, it was made by Roger Donaldson as The Bounty.) Expensive epics mired in their own makings are often doomed by the over-hyped negative publicity they generate and Brando’s Mutiny, as with the maligned Cleopatra to follow one year later, met with audiences predisposed to attack for supposedly egregious failings. Seventy years later, plopping in the HD dvd or Blu-ray edition, there’s a removed-from-the-naysayers re-appreciation: this is the most photogenic rendering of the story thus far. Without color, as in the 1935 version starring Gable & Laughton, the enticements of the tropics—the utter blissfulness, how you can become naturally stoned by the environs and cast responsibilities out to sea—are severely diminished. This remake gives Tahiti its deserving due by Robert Surtees and Harold Wellman, especially the breathtaking twilight shots. (And who in his plebeian mind wouldn’t risk mutiny against Bligh for paradise or the hips of golden brown Tarita agitating better than a Kenmore washer?) The screen credit for the direction goes to Lewis Milestone who, picking up where first director Sir Carol Reed’s agony left off, was even more at the mercy of Brando’s frequent usurpations (more about them in the note on the left about the Blu-ray version) and by end George Seaton finished it. Kaper’s rousing, athletic score is one of the prime examples of what roadshows are sometimes best remembered for and more about it below. Brando’s death scene was literally done on ice. Forgotten about, the trip mission of the Bounty was to take the breadfruit plant from Tahiti and transplant it to Jamaica as a food staple for African slaves. All for naught when, arriving a few years later, they refused to eat it. The rebels did, as the plant thrives in Pitcairn. Filmed in Ulta Panavision 70. (Opening 1/14/1962 at the Michael Todd, running 26 weeks.) Nominated for seven Oscars: best picture, color cinematography, film editing, color art/set decoration, song, musical score, special effects. Note on the Captain: During his reign of terror, Blight faced his most humiliating insurrection when he was appointed governor of New South Wales and attempted to stop alleged corruption of well-established Australian settlers who, as military members, were profiting from private trading. Reputation as “the Bounty bastard” preceding him, and intensely disliked for his authoritarian style, he faced what was called “The Rum Rebellion” headed by Major George Johnston and four hundred New South Wales Corp soldiers who arrested and imprisoned him on a ship for nearly two years before being released. Johnston faced a hanging trial for the mutinous actions and though found guilty, his British judges had enough of sentencing anyone to death over Bligh’s revolt-provoking brutalities and merely “cashiered” the mutineer—stripping him of military position but, generously, allowing him to return to his wealthy private life. Following this, Bligh would induce two more mutinies. Reportedly suffering from stomach cancer, he’d die at the age of 63 while visiting his doctor on London’s Bond Street. Howard’s portrayal of him remains a potent visual approximation as to why everyone hated the son of a bitch. ROLL OVER IMAGES / POSTER & MEMORIES (at left)
Text COPYRIGHT © 2000 RALPH BENNER (Updated 2/2023) All Rights Reserved. |
Ever
since Mutiny on the
Bounty opened back in 1962, lovers of
movie music have argued Kaper’s score ranked as one of the finest to
grace a roadshow. With the 2004 release of Film Score Monthly/Turner
Entertainment’s 3 CD deluxe soundtrack, those sentiments have been gloriously reaffirmed. Don’t think it’s at all possible for anyone who appreciates grand scores not to get gooseflesh when hearing the overture and main title theme, and aficionados of rubbishy love theme songs have a fondness for “Follow Me” with lyrics sung in Tahitian and a hum-along chorus version. Long-delayed excitement too in hearing for the first time bonus material
used. For example, renderings of the main theme without the
chorus, which I personally believe are more stirring, or the full unused
rendition of The Storm. The boxed set includes a 48 page color pamphlet
chock full of info on the mutiny, the making of the movie (with an emphasis
on Brando’s petulance), and an explanatory listing of all the tracks on the
CDs. One generally unknown fact about Kaper is he rarely if ever conducted
his own work; so thanks most high to Robert Armbruster for his (marvelously
frenzied) conducting of the MGM Symphony Orchestra, and special thanks to
Leo Arnaud and Robert Franklyn for those bellowing orchestrations.
