The Unfinished Oscar Speech

(Daily Kos | February 26, 2016)

Despising “celebrity” in every Hollywood sense of the word, Marlon Brando used his fame to make statements, bring awareness, and create change. Blatantly against any form of racism, Brando marched in 1963 during the Civil Rights Movement in DC, and often carried his fight for equal rights into his movie roles. In one film, Brando insisted that his air-force pilot character in Sayonara marry the pilot’s Japanese lover at the end. This was in 1957 during a time when America was steeped in Japanese racism. In 1967, Brando was the first leading actor to play, in a sympathetic way, a closeted homosexual military officer in Reflections in a Golden Eye.

But Marlon Brando’s most renowned example of human rights activism took place in 1973 when he forfeited an Oscar for The Godfather in order to bring international awareness to the wrongs being committed against American Indians. After the winner of the category Best Actor was announced, Sacheen Littlefeather went up on stage and spoke on behalf of Marlon Brando. The actress and activist gave a short eloquent and provocative speech which was received by the live audience, and around the world with mixed reactions.

Here is the entire speech (which can also be found here (The New York Times)):

BEVERLY HILLS, Calif. — For 200 years we have said to the Indian people who are fighting for their land, their life, their families and their right to be free: ”Lay down your arms, my friends, and then we will remain together. Only if you lay down your arms, my friends, can we then talk of peace and come to an agreement which will be good for you.”

When they laid down their arms, we murdered them. We lied to them. We cheated them out of their lands. We starved them into signing fraudulent agreements that we called treaties which we never kept. We turned them into beggars on a continent that gave life for as long as life can remember. And by any interpretation of history, however twisted, we did not do right. We were not lawful nor were we just in what we did. For them, we do not have to restore these people, we do not have to live up to some agreements, because it is given to us by virtue of our power to attack the rights of others, to take their property, to take their lives when they are trying to defend their land and liberty, and to make their virtues a crime and our own vices virtues.

But there is one thing which is beyond the reach of this perversity and that is the tremendous verdict of history. And history will surely judge us. But do we care? What kind of moral schizophrenia is it that allows us to shout at the top of our national voice for all the world to hear that we live up to our commitment when every page of history and when all the thirsty, starving, humiliating days and nights of the last 100 years in the lives of the American Indian contradict that voice?

It would seem that the respect for principle and the love of one’s neighbor have become dysfunctional in this country of ours, and that all we have done, all that we have succeeded in accomplishing with our power is simply annihilating the hopes of the newborn countries in this world, as well as friends and enemies alike, that we’re not humane, and that we do not live up to our agreements.

Perhaps at this moment you are saying to yourself what the hell has all this got to do with the Academy Awards? Why is this woman standing up here, ruining our evening, invading our lives with things that don’t concern us, and that we don’t care about? Wasting our time and money and intruding in our homes.

I think the answer to those unspoken questions is that the motion picture community has been as responsible as any for degrading the Indian and making a mockery of his character, describing his as savage, hostile and evil. It’s hard enough for children to grow up in this world. When Indian children watch television, and they watch films, and when they see their race depicted as they are in films, their minds become injured in ways we can never know.

Recently there have been a few faltering steps to correct this situation, but too faltering and too few, so I, as a member in this profession, do not feel that I can as a citizen of the United States accept an award here tonight. I think awards in this country at this time are inappropriate to be received or given until the condition of the American Indian is drastically altered. If we are not our brother’s keeper, at least let us not be his executioner.

I would have been here tonight to speak to you directly, but I felt that perhaps I could be of better use if I went to Wounded Knee to help forestall in whatever way I can the establishment of a peace which would be dishonorable as long as the rivers shall run and the grass shall grow.

I would hope that those who are listening would not look upon this as a rude intrusion, but as an earnest effort to focus attention on an issue that might very well determine whether or not this country has the right to say from this point forward we believe in the inalienable rights of all people to remain free and independent on lands that have supported their life beyond living memory.

Thank you for your kindness and your courtesy to Miss Littlefeather. Thank you and good night.

This statement was written by Marlon Brando for delivery at the Academy Awards ceremony where Mr. Brando refused an Oscar. The speaker, who read only a part of it, was Shasheen Littlefeather.

Let’s Welcome Damián Szifrón and his Wild Tales | Relatos Salvajes from Argentina

Read the full article | The New Republic

[Anthology movies are tricky, slippery things that don’t often strike mainstream success. Why watch a bunch of short movies when you could watch a single long one? And even when such movies are successful, they’re mostly marriages of convenience, collaborative efforts to explore a single, geographically-bound theme—a way to accommodate multiple egos in one space, if you will. New York Stories (1989) was the brainchild of heavy hitters Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, and Woody Allen, and Paris, je t’aime (2006), probably the most high-profile anthology movie of the last decade, featured no fewer than 22 directors, from Alfonso Cuarón to the Cohen Brothers to Gurinder Chadha. But Paris, je t’aime, like many movies of its genre, was uneven, with duds embedded among gems. These movies are inconsistent by design, and it shows.

But there’s a reason anthology movies often center around a particular place. They free directors of the constraints of narrative so that they can simply paint an impressionistic portrait of a particular place.

Wild Tales, written and directed by the relatively unknown Damián Szifrón, is the rare anthology movie that transcends the limits of its form, combining the advantages of its genre with clever writing, a superb sense of comedic timing, and diligent editing to produce a compilation of shorts as good as any feature-length film. It vividly captures life in twenty-first-century Argentina, its frustrations and pitfalls, traffic jams and high-rises, while still giving us memorable characters and complex plot developments.]