At some point during the 1980s, two-time-Oscar winner Marlon Brando commissioned a digitized 3D version of his head, not only predicting the resurrecting celebrities via hologram craze of the 2010s, but also confirming that Brando’s greatest love affair was with his craft. It seems that with this 3D version of himself the actor was trying to dissect exactly what goes on inside the thespian’s mind. If Brando became somewhat of a recluse, and the butt of many jokes during latter years (perhaps out of resentment for having “abandoned” the screen), it wasn’t because he had nothing to say, but because he was more interested in introspection. In the documentary Listen to Me Marlon, we learn that Brando made hundreds of tape recordings in which he discussed his thoughts on film, art and life.
Using these recordings, with the permission of Brando’s estate so as to remove any idea of tabloid fodder, the film opens with Brando’s 3D head speaking to us, through most of the film it feels as if he’s engaging us in the greatest acting master class ever, as filmmaker Stevan Riley finds just the right rhythm to make Brando’s voice seem almost conversational, and the organic editing gives the documentary a structure that’s both informative and also slightly oneiric.
The film details Brando’s life in a fairly chronological manner detailing his childhood, his arrival in New York City, his Method training and eventually how he became the most popular movie star in the world. The film brilliantly links facts about Brando’s personal life, to the way in which they were conveyed onscreen, for example he had a love/hate relationship with his father, and used childhood traumas to channel Stanley’s childlike fury in A Streetcar Named Desire. We har the actor candidly discussing his thoughts on Francis Ford Coppola’s treatment of him in Apocalypse Now, as well as his deep admiration for his acting teacher, Stella Adler who became a mother figure to him in myriad ways.
Perhaps what remains the most fascinating element about Listen to Me Marlon, is the very nature of its existence, particularly wondering, why would someone as private as Brando leave behind such a collection of perfectly labeled intimacies? At one point we hear him talk about how he knew he needed to spread his seed, and while in this case he meant it from a purely biological perspective, he must’ve been very much aware of how unique he was as an actor and how important his work was in developing the craft of screen performances.It makes sense then that he would want his “seed” to impregnate people’s minds as well, and perhaps inspire them to aspire to his levels of greatness. After all he was the ultimate practical joker and he always got the last laugh.
