{"id":36016,"date":"2020-09-15T12:30:42","date_gmt":"2020-09-15T10:30:42","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/leregardlibre.com\/?p=36016"},"modified":"2022-09-25T16:11:36","modified_gmt":"2022-09-25T14:11:36","slug":"the-last-days-of-marlon-brando-the-last-days-of-a-glorious-waste","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/leregardlibre.com\/en\/litterature\/les-derniers-jours-de-marlon-brando-les-derniers-jours-dun-dechet-glorieux\/","title":{"rendered":"\u00abThe last days of Marlon Brando\u00bb: the last days of a glorious piece of trash"},"content":{"rendered":"

Tuesday books - Loris S. Musumeci<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

A streetcar named desire<\/em>, Mutiny on the Bounty<\/em>, The last tango in Paris<\/em> and above all The Godfather<\/em> and Apocalypse Now<\/em>. These films, the last two lasting legends, created or at least confirmed a legend in their own right. A legend whose name is just as legendary, just as much a part of cinematic history: Marlon Brando. In The last days of Marlon Brando<\/em>, the great reporter for World<\/em> Samuel Blumenfeld tells a story that he composes into a novel. The story of how he met this Brando legend in an interview at his home, 12900 Mulholland Drive.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

And here, the dream merges with desolation, a desolation that is nonetheless not lacking in fascination. Blumenfeld stands before Brando like a devotee before his all-powerful god. Despite the actor's ideal appearance in his heyday, the god has now fallen. But he's still a god. A legend. A sacred beast of cinema. Yet obese, yet utterly excessive, yet utterly mad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the end, the gold digger is faced with a piece of garbage. And there's no exaggeration in the choice of words. Brando has really become a piece of trash, as much for his too-round belly as for his head, which doesn't run very smoothly any more. Slumped on his bed, he watches television. But the TV has a very particular location: it's on the actor's enormous belly. And that's not all... because our dear Marlon is also a first-rate paranoid, equipped like the most unbalanced survivalist, who accumulates as many reserves in his garage as he does in his belly. A bulimic, he gorges himself day and night, on whole tubs of ice cream or fast-food dishes delivered to his home by flying over the gate of his fortress.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The character is tragic. He is comic. The author allows us to meet him as he embarks on his story. Marlon Brando is the glory of yesteryear caught up in the ridiculous. It's the ridiculousness that nonetheless moves us, and doesn't erase the trail blazed by what was, I repeat, a legendary career. It's the lightness of a guy who slept where he pleased, with whom he pleased, woman or man; the casualness of a genius who allowed himself the luxury of refusing the ultimate film star award: the Best Actor Oscar for his portrayal of Don Vito Corleone in The Godfather<\/em>. At last, he's a father who has scattered children here and there, without succeeding in fertilizing his race. A suffering father who saw his favorite son become a murderer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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