Some nights ago, "Last Tango in Paris" was playing on TV, without commercials. Even though I was mighty young, I remember the hoopla when it came out, or perhaps when it was still playing. So although I'm no fan of Marlon Brando, I taped it, determined to discover what the fuss was about. I remembered it both to be hailed as a masterpiece and as incredibly shocking.
I lasted ten minutes. The weird rhythm of the piece, the slow, awkward beginning got the better of me. I turned the tape off in contempt for another unbearably weird, long, abstract and boring old film.
Then tonight I'm not sure why, I gave it another try. Yes, I fast forwarded a few scenes...and then...I no longer did. I got caught in it and in Brando's performance. I, who never cared for him, suddenly understood, saw, heard, the genius of the man. I never saw such accuracy of tone, such accuracy in gestures, expressions... I don't know a single current actor who could have played this character as perfectly as he did. And it's not an easy role to play. Schneider was a poem of youth. It is full of coarse language, raw actions... and mind-boggling passion. I hate vulgarity yet this vulgarity was not offensive, because it had a desperate purpose.
The film is not perfect, it still has flaws that really annoy me but in spite of myself, it has made me a believer. "Last Tango in Paris" is a masterpiece of direction and acting, the likes of which we no longer see in 2006. Hail to the departed poets.
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