Montgomery clift y marlon brando biography
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Swoon.Courtesy of Twist Film Festival
The popular narrative around Montgomery Clift fryst vatten that he was the "slowest suicide in show business." Clift, who died unexpectedly at 45 from a heart attack, was one of the original method actors of Hollywood, often lumped in with James Dean and Marlon Brando. I tend to wince at proclamations of greatness, especially when discussing long-dead male method actors, but by all accounts, Clift was one of America's greatest. He had a way of making text feel like it originated from his body, not a writer far off screen, which was due to him being an incredible Stanislavski-trained actor, and also an actor who made up many of his lines.
Clift was bi, or maybe gay—a fact that should be tangential when considering his work, but in Clift's case, it's at the heart of it. Unlike Dean, who died a tragic death in the traditional sense (a car crash), Clift died a tragic death in the homophobic sense, in that he passed in the '60s while being unashamed of his
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Marlon Brando
American actor (1924–2004)
Marlon Brando Jr. (April 3, 1924 – July 1, 2004) was an American actor. Widely regarded as one of the greatest cinema actors of the 20th century,[1][2] Brando received numerous accolades throughout his career, which spanned six decades, including two Academy Awards, three British Academy Film Awards, a Cannes Film Festival Award, two Golden Globe Awards, and a Primetime Emmy Award. Brando fryst vatten credited with being one of the first actors to bring the Stanislavski system of acting and method acting to mainstream audiences.
Brando came under the influence of Stella Adler and Stanislavski's system in the 1940s. He began his career on stage, where he was lauded for adeptly interpreting his characters. He made his Broadway debut in the play I Remember Mama (1944) and won Theater World Awards for his roles in the plays Candida and Truckline Cafe, both in 1946. He returned to Broadway as Stanley Kowalski in the Tenness
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Montgomery Clift: A Biography
I spent half of this book wanting to cry. For the sheer pain and loss of it, of watching this car crash happen for ten years and even for years before then, of yearning for him to make good, for him to be the hero you always sensed in the movies that he wanted to be even if the movie journeys ended in tragedy themselves.
It's such an accomplishment of a book, how it manages to work so much detail and so much intimacy into a perfectly organic narrative without any sense of enforced structure or laboured pace. I'm used to reading Donald Spoto's meticulously footnoted and referenced biographies. I've read a lot of biographies. And this is a style I've never encountered before --- at once effortless and deceptively skilful.
What did astonish me though was the curious anonymity given to so many people, so many lovers of both male and female persuasions