James Dean's Bit Part in the Fifties Cast a Long Shadow, But What If....?

From the book James Dean: 50 Years Ago

Because Buddy Holly performed one of his last concerts here in Duluth, leaving lasting impression on the young Robert Zimmerman who was there that night, I've numerous times been asked, "Would Buddy Holly have stayed famous and influential had he lived?"

It's one of the age old questions people ask when famous people die young. "What if..." What if Marilyn Monroe had lived? What if JFK had lived? And today's theme: What if James Dean had lived?

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Earlier this year I picked out David Halberstam's The Fifties for my summer read because I was born in the early Fifties and believed it would help me understand myself. Though I've always believed it was the Sixties that shaped my life trajectory, one cannot escape recognizing how the outlines of our Sixties lives emerged from what came before. 

Interestingly, the ones who were most shaped by the Fifties were the kids born in the early Forties, like Bob Dylan. There's no question James Dean had been an influence on Dylan. Coming of age in Hibbing, Bobby Zimmerman's uncles owned the theaters there and much has been made of Bobby Z having spent hours at the Lybba and other theaters in town. We not only see references to films in his songs but also see his interest in the medium of film itself. (eg. Renaldo & Clara, Masked and Anonymous, Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid.)

As for James Dean himself, Bob Dylan once visited James Dean's hometown after a concert in Indianapolis, much like Dylan fans make a trek to Duluth and Hibbing to see the homes and points of interest where young Dylan grew up.

So we come to the question that is now on the table. What kind of career would James Dean have had had he lived? Here's some of what Halberstam wrote. In a chapter that focuses on three influential "bad boys" of the Fifties, he begins with Brando and Elvis.

Marlon Brando and Elvis Presley were only the first of the new rebels from the world of entertainment and art. Soon to come were many others. If there was a common thread, it was that they all projected the image of being misunderstood, more often than not by their parents' generation, if not their own parents themselves. There was little overt political content in their rebellion; their public personae and the characters they played were not fighting against the sinister injustices of the McCarthy era or racial injustice. Only Brando came close to politics when he confronted the mob in On the Waterfront.

According to Halberstam, the third bad boy James Dean was not the caliber of actor that Brando was. 

Dean's life and his art were inseparable. Unlike Brando, who had considerable professional training and considerable range, Dean basically played himself, but brilliantly. Sullen and sulky, he was still worthy of redemption if only the properly tender girlfriend could be found to mother him. Either he got a part right instinctively, (Elia) Kazan believed, or he didn't get it at all. At a certain point the only way to get him to improve his performance was to get him liquored up.

A little further Halberstam makes this observation about Dean's career.

His career was short. There were only three films before he met his death in a car accident. The end came at the height of his fame and in the very same year of his stunning debut in East of Eden. That early death ensured him a place in the pantheon of artists who lived fast and died young. His poster would grace the bedroom walls of future generations of young would-be rebels. Dick Schickel noted the advantages of dying young (Dean) and the disadvantages of not (Brando): "There is much to be said for dying young in circumstances melodramatically appropriate to your public image. There is very little to be said for living long and burying that image in silence. They're like fighters on their way up. It's a life or death struggle for them and they give their utmost to the role. This quality disappears later," he once said. "They become civilized and normal."

In another place Halberstam details the challenge Kazan had to deal with and the games the two men--Kazan and Dean--played before the latter would win his opportunity.

A friend told Kazan about Dean, whom he remembered from the Actors Studio as sullen and not very productive. At their first meeting Kazan, wanting to provoke Dean, deliberately kept him waiting; when he finally arrived, Kazan found Dean slouched down in his seat--rude, disrespectful, and shabbily dressed. The two of them were engaging in a certain kind of theatrical gamesmanship, Kazan decided. They did not talk much. Conversation was not James Dean's strong suit, particularly with someone so powerful in the theater and whose good opinion he so desperately wanted. Dean offered Kazan a ride on his motorbike, and off they went. "He was showing off," Kazan later wrote, "a country boy not impressed with big city traffic."

Fortunately for Dean, his act worked. To Kazan, who bore his own resentments against his father, Dean was Cal Trask. "There was no point in trying to cast it better or nicer. Jimmy was it. He had a grudge against all fathers. He was vengeful; he had a sense of alone-ness and of being persecuted. And he was uncommonly suspicious."

The impression one gets is that James Dean was not really a character actor, he was simply himself. If this were the case, the future he never had would require some maturing and more honing of his craft. He certainly made a splash, but how much of this was due to Kazan's skills handling the churlish Dean? 

Photo credits: All the images on this page were from this book which I picked up at a library sale early this summer.