EAST OF EDEN (1955)

Elia Kazan’s East of Eden, a fictional retelling of the Biblical tale of Cain and Abel, effectively accesses its tormented protagonist Cal’s (James Dean) emotional depths. An adaptation of John Steinbeck’s 1952 novel of the same name, the film follows two brothers, the aforementioned Cal and Aron (Richard Davalos). The former is moody and endlessly angsty, while the latter is a stereotypical golden boy, chipper and cheerful to boot. While Cal is convinced that his father Adam (Raymond Massey) doesn’t love him, Aron has never had to contend with such anxieties.

The film isn’t always successful at conveying Cal’s tortured psyche, with a shockingly bad opening scene, where the over-exaggeratedly brooding Cal first stalks a woman, then makes a dreadful attempt at looking busy when she calls on someone to interrogate her stalker. When Cal speaks it’s as if he keeps pleading for others’ pity, but this tactic doesn’t even work for the filmgoing audience in this instance, since nothing is known of him at this point. The film’s score swells with dark, menacing notes, all of which are disanalogous to what’s shown onscreen. Intercutting shots of a random black woman sitting on her porch and laughing at Cal are so generic that they might well be the same shot duplicated again and again, her dubbed laughter lending an uncanny valley quality to the experience. It’s a scene that feels as if it could only have any effect if it were to take place midway through East of Eden, where something, anything, is known of Cal and this plot.

Still, this protagonist is effectively brought to life by Dean in a vivid performance, though not one without its low points. At his best, the young actor approaches this character not so much as a caged animal, but as one whose cage door was open all his life, which he never ventured out of for lack of purpose and self-love. But then there are moments, just as frequent as the former, when he portrays Cal’s brooding, tortured nature too bluntly, placing far more emphasis on conveying the facial expressions of a wounded man than the emotions of one. Whatever the case, Dean is a magnetic actor in East of Eden, not just as the driving force of this movie’s drama, but also in how much of that drama rests on his tortured expressions, which make him appear cosmically doomed from the get-go.

As Cal tries to earn his father’s love, he inadvertently kick-starts a chain reaction that may just be the undoing of this family unit. But, possibly against one’s better judgement, it’s enjoyably hopeful to watch this anguished young man channel his hidden talents using an industrious spirit. He comes alive throughout Kazan’s film, even when faced with many setbacks along the way. Just as Cal experiences a kind of rebirth, Aron sinks into the murky depths that his brother used to languish in, evoking epic proportions within this sibling rivalry.

But though East of Eden does well to embody the emotional depths of its biblical inspiration, the film’s approach to these ideas is often too brazen and gaudy for its own good, whether that’s down to a middling script, aggressively unsubtle performances, or Kazan’s competent yet unremarkable direction. Even still, there’s a certain sway to this movie’s rough approach towards channelling its psychic depths, where it chooses to rest this tale entirely on its actors looking as moody as possible. Though the effect of Dean’s portrayal of Cal often makes the character look as if he’s battling a severe bout of constipation, this pointedly wounded look, just like Cal, becomes considerably easier to empathise with as this protagonist’s tragic fate is unfurled.

Cal is constantly searching for things out of his grasp, even when he’s certain that the means to acquire them are within sight. His efforts to win back his father’s losses demonstrate his gumption, while he also has the guts to confront his strong-willed, fiercely independent mother Cathy (Jo Van Fleet), and the weight of her absence in his life, which he’ll never truly understand.

With an absent mother and a neglectful, hyper-critical father, Cal has spent his entire life searching for love, and there are moments where Dean bears that pain so openly that you can glimpse the extent to which this trauma is an embedded part of this character’s identity. Meanwhile, Aron’s sunny disposition eventually gives way to the character looking like the embodiment of a storm that rumbles in uninhibited fury. The world is a cruel, stark place, Aron is soon to learn. Cal, who has been reminded of this fact his entire life, is a more effective tragic figure, if only because he will remain a wounded boy regardless of how his life turns out. That’s why he still affords himself a sliver of hope in his attempts to win his father’s affections. In some respects, hope is the most damning trait of all for a haunted soul like his, but it’s also his only shot at salvation.

Marlon Brando was initially considered for the role of Cal, but this idea was rejected given the age disparity between the legendary actor and this character. One can easily imagine that Brando’s performance would have been similar to Dean’s take on this protagonist. In fact, it’s difficult not to feel that Dean was intentionally channelling Brando in his portrayal of Cal. Paul Newman was another candidate for East of Eden’s leading role, but ultimately lost out to Dean, who, unlike Newman and Brando, was far closer in age to the character.

This film was Davalos’ first acting role, a tall order for any fledgling actor given how prominent a character Aron is in this narrative. What’s remarkable about Dean and Davalos here is how East of Eden’s emotional resonance lives and dies not so much on the story itself, but on the trajectory that each actor undergoes to uncover a full portrait of either character. Davalos doesn’t just hold his own amongst this more experienced ensemble cast, he’s a genuine marvel, with entire scenes smoulder under the weight of his fiery expression and hateful eyes.

Age was again a factor in casting when it came to Abra (Julie Harris), Aron’s girlfriend, who gradually finds herself falling in love with Cal. Harris’ casting was opposed by executive producer Jack L. Warner due to the fact that she was 10 years older than her character’s age. Not only is this a non-issue in the film, where viewers will hardly notice that Harris is Dean or Davalos’s elder, her chemistry with the former actor is palpable. Cal and Abra’s tortured love affair is the most earnest and genuine relationship throughout East of Eden, as well as being much-needed in a narrative that doesn’t always justify the big swings it attempts across its emotional palette.

A shot that tilts in time with Cal careening forwards and backwards on a swing during a tense exchange with his father is the only time Kazan’s direction feels truly distinctive, with the rest of the film coming across as rote in this regard, a trait that it shares with the film’s screenplay (written by Paul Osborn). Too much of East of Eden’s appeal is hoisted on its actors, who gamely press on in their efforts. Though occasional moments of magic are salvaged in this way from the bones of an otherwise competent but unremarkable period piece, this ambitious tale of two tortured brothers comes up short just as often as it’s genuinely moving.

USA | 1955 | 117 MINUTES | 2.55:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH

Cast & Crew

director: Elia Kazan.
writer: Paul Osborn (based on the novel by John Steinbeck).
starring: James Dean, Richard Davalos, Julie Harris, Raymond Massey, Jo Van Fleet, Burl Ives, Albert Dekker & Harold Gordon.