MARTY (1955)

In Delbert Mann’s feature directorial debut Marty, its eponymous protagonist is certain that he will never get married. Believing that his lack of good looks is severely hampering him in this regard, he can’t recognise that his despairing, pitiful attitude is far more of a detriment to his non-existent love life. Marty (Ernest Borgnine) is easy to love, easy to criticise, easy to pity, and absolutely worthy of rooting for, with this heart-warming tale from screenwriter Paddy Chayefsky proving to be a deceptively complex blend of tones and styles.

Taking place over just two days, this 93-minute feature explores the dogged persistence, ruthless attitude, and desperate haunts of single men looking to find a girl to spend the night with, as well as the soul-crushing loneliness that encircles Marty and Clara Snyder (Betsy Blair) until they experience the good fortune of meeting one another. But it also explores the push-pull dynamic of how a person’s loved ones can hamper one’s happiness so that your role in their life won’t diminish, and the ways in which all semblance of goodwill, charitability, and common sense go out the window once people become intensely angry (almost always for silly reasons). This is a soothing film that looks to bridge the horrible, dark road of loneliness separating its two main characters from the rest of the world, while also offering a bitter reflection on humanity’s selfishness, a motif that runs just underneath Marty’s sweet surface.

Mann’s directorial style is as straightforward as they come, to such a degree that I would need to see the film a few more times to proclaim that his direction is a stroke of genius or fortuitous luck. A first watch of Marty gives little indication as to whether Mann is approaching this story the only way he knows how, or if he recognises that he need only effectively introduce these characters and their daily haunts and the rest writes itself. Chayefsky’s screenplay showcases his strong ear for slice-of-life dialogue. But the screenwriter also allows for grand, sweeping monologues in Marty that would feel tacky and stilted now, but when employed well fit right at home in this era of cinema. Borgnine is masterful at conveying Marty’s despair, as he breaks down in front of his mother and explains why he will never be loved. Whether it’s Marty’s inclination towards despair or his friends’ casually misogynistic attitude, where any interaction with women that doesn’t involve sex is an obstacle to be tackled, and where one is likely to hear reference to a woman being a ‘dog’ for not being a knockout beauty, the psychological profile of these characters is grimly realistic.

A movie like this could be made today, but it would feel far too didactic, a transparent attempt to get incels to give up their defeatist ways and recognise that their belief in their worthlessness is the main thing holding them back (well, aside from the intense bitterness towards women that those communities tend to foster). Chayefsky never feels as if he’s straining to make a point, with the ensuing drama being so absorbing that it’s easy to forget there ever was one. We don’t need scene after scene putting Marty’s flaws at the forefront of the narrative to recognise that he clearly needs to work on himself. It’s enough to watch this protagonist lose his cool at the notion that Clara doesn’t want to kiss him on the night they first meet, or seeing him refer to her as a dog to his friends once he gives in to their small-minded ways, to recognise that he is a flawed individual.

It’s not just Marty and Clara that are taken seriously; the rest of this ensemble are never pulverised for cliché. It doesn’t turn its nose up at these characters’ flaws, contradictions, changes of heart, or narrow-mindedness. It accepts them for what they are and trusts our judgement on the matter. Marty’s best friend Angie (Joe Mantell) seems like a good influence at first, since he at least has a desire to put himself out there and hasn’t given up completely on finding someone. When the pair head out together, Mann demonstrates—as he will many times throughout Marty—that simplicity is key for a story like this one. You don’t need a close-up shot of an anxious expression or awkward hand movements to recognise and feel for Marty’s hesitancy, both at the prospect of going out to meet women and just as he approaches one at the dance hall. Defeatism has been ingrained in him long before he first laid eyes on this woman, and as far as he’s concerned, will forever be an integral part of his personality. Chayefsky’s naturalistic screenplay and Borgnine’s moving performance ensure that even if the movie’s cast is small, its runtime short, and its chronology brief, this world feels lived-in and authentic.

Marty’s Italian-American mother Teresa (Esther Minciotti) seems like a charming old woman at first, telling her son in her strong Italian accent that plenty of ‘tomatoes’ will be there at the Stardust Ballroom, one of presumably dozens of pleas for Marty to find a nice girl to settle down with. But once her bitter sister Catherine (Augusta Ciolli) convinces her that Marty settling down with someone will lead to her being sent away from her beloved home to a ratty apartment, she quickly changes her tune, trying at every turn to convince Marty of Clara’s inadequacies. Marty’s friends do the very same thing, since they’re as desperate to prolong his suffering as they are to end theirs. If the defeatist man who never even tries to get a girl triumphs against the odds, what does that say about them?

False camaraderie is everywhere, all designed to bring Marty down so that others won’t feel neglected, whether that’s by him or by the forces of fate or dumb luck. What’s most remarkable about these dynamics is that it feels only natural to pity Marty’s friends and mother, but you never forget that their selfishness could lead to the ruin of a beautiful relationship. Chayefsky always leaves room for characters rather than caricatures in this screenplay. When Teresa and Catherine talk for the first time in the film, you expect a brief conversation between two very different elderly women. But while Catherine is undoubtedly crabby and pessimistic, she’s far from a one-note character, with this scene lasting over five minutes as the pair attempt to navigate what their lives mean to them at this unique juncture, where their children are carving out entirely new lives without their mothers in them.

Selfishness abounds in Marty, to such a degree that the film even gives in to some cynical thinking during its feel-good ending, which is beautiful enough to make one’s heart swell with pride and optimism. Marty repeats the same needling phrase delivered to him by others to Angie, insisting that his friend needs to find a girl fast to settle down with and implying that it’s pathetic that he hasn’t yet done so. After committing his first truly selfish act (choosing the risk of romantic love over the familiar bonds of friendship and family), Marty doubles down by being even more selfish, forgetting all about the sorrow he’d felt for himself just a day earlier, and how Angie might be experiencing something similar at that very moment. Even in an interaction that comes across as blissfully happy on the surface, there’s a bitter streak that slithers underneath this scene and the rest of the film.

Man is a wolf to his fellow man, Marty reminds us. As we witness this protagonist’s triumph, it is immensely satisfying, not least because those closest to him never thought to look out for his happiness, but this moment also teaches him to appreciate a selfish mindset. We can never truly know the people around us, but Marty reminds us that we hardly ever try, nor are we keen to uncover the truth lest it complicate things for us. Apart from Clara, everyone in Marty’s life wants to put him in a box, and it doesn’t seem that he’ll be any less of a prime candidate for small-mindedness down the line. But he fights for his own happiness, and that’s enough of a victory to take solace in.

Every scene featuring Marty and Clara together is a delight, where both characters treat each other with such unabashed affection that it cuts right through the scheming and duplicity that up till then had dominated this film’s fledgling romances. Marty and Clara understand each other after just one night spent in the other’s company, something that can never be understood by Marty’s friends and family. But we know it all too well, as time breezes by between the pair and for viewers. Not a single scene is wasted across this tumultuous and hopeful night.

Love is the biggest risk of all, since not only is heartbreak on the line, but confirmation of all of Marty’s biggest fears. His mother and friends seem so much more well-adjusted than he is, but over time it becomes clear that they’re really just as scared about what will become of them. Whether it’s a greater loss of community between then and now, the rise of incels and disillusioned young men, or the feelings of inadequacy that plague all of us from time to time, Marty is damn near timeless. It might actually be more valuable for its cultural and social insights now than upon its release, when it achieved one of the rarest feats in awards history, winning both the Palme d’Or and the Academy Award for ‘Best Film’.

But while the film is deserving of such high acclaim, its great ending is missing a few notes to make it spectacular. Mann’s plain visual style works wonders for Marty, but I can’t help but feel that a close-up shot of Teresa as Marty sadly announces he’s going to spend time at the bar with his friends, his shoulders slumped and his hope deflated, would solidify the inner conflict between wanting your beloved child to be happy and prioritising your own fears. I kept waiting for her to show up one last time, but alas, her arc is left unfinished. There’s no sense of resolution between Marty and Tommy (Jerry Paris), his cousin, who Marty has been trying to get on board with his business idea for two days now. Not only does he keep getting brushed off, there isn’t even an excuse given that the pair will talk about it at another time. It’s a minor loose end, but when even minor characters like Tommy and his wife Virginia (Karen Steele) feel like real people in this rich world, it’s a missed opportunity for Marty’s ideal career move to go ignored.

As for the very last moment, while it’s certainly heart-warming, it doesn’t quite capture the pure joy and exuberance of the climaxes of similar films like Buffalo ’66 (1998) and Punch Drunk Love (2002). Meanwhile, ending the film with this film’s sad-sack friends would underscore that the main emotional thrust of Marty is one of joy, but that there’s a note of sorrow and bitterness alongside it, as well as an acknowledgement that many of life’s battles are silent and solitary (especially for single men like these), all wrapped up in a surprisingly realistic portrayal of loneliness, longing, despair, and hope. Thankfully, the rest of the film supplies this blend of tones masterfully.

USA | 1955 | 93 MINUTES | 1.85:1 | BLACK & WHITE | ENGLISH • GERMAN • ITALIAN

Cast & Crew

director: Delbert Mann.
writer: Paddy Chayefsky.
starring: Ernest Borgnine, Betsy Blair, Esther Minciotti, Joe Mantell, Augusta Ciolli, Jerry Paris & Karen Steele.