The 1955 Best Picture was the celebration of an overweight thirty-something perpetual bachelor (Ernest Borgnine) suddenly finding love with a twenty-nine-year old “dog” (Betsy Blair) who also seems destined for the role of old maid.
The best thing about director Delbert Mann’s production (first for TV then to the big screen) is Borgnine’s performance in the title role. From warm-hearted butcher to explosive son and pal and—most impressively—through his wordless scenes whether staring off into his troubled soul or pounding the bus stop in unabashed joy, Borgnine shows a depth of emotion and superb body language that precious few actors before or after have managed to display in just 90 minutes.
Paddy Chayefsky’s script overflows with truisms that get laughs (“You’re not such a dog as you think you are,” says Marty without batting an eye at school teacher Clara—Betsy Blair is a model of quiet stoicism throughout), contrasting characters (most especially Marty’s well-intentioned mom—Esther Minciotti) and her bitter-as-they-come sister, Catherine (lines like, “It’s a curse to be a widow,” spat out with more venom than an enraged cobra by Augusta Ciolli) and a few too “on-the-nose” scenes (including Marty’s temptations for a possible quick romp in the hay from his friends and the near-silly echo of Aunt Catherine’s prediction that Marty will want to sell the family home) that stretch credibility to the breaking point even as they fuel Marty’s character development.
In the mid-‘50s, it’s not hard to understand why audiences loved to identify with the fat butcher who was able to overcome the shackles of his debilitating buddies (effectively led by Joe Mantell as Angie) and family members (Marty’s feuding brother—Jerry Paris and “can’t do anything right” sister-in-law—Karen Steele—readily providing the fireworks) to finally strike out on his own and capture the affections of a fellow dog. Just six years after the devastation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki still in active memory, “living happily ever after” doesn’t get better than this and couldn’t have come at a better time. Little wonder it was the first U.S. film to play in Russia. JWR