Listen to Me Marlon 摘要
是 Marlon Brando 的纪录片。说名字你可能不是认识，就是电影「The Godfather」里面扮演大佬的演员的生平故事。
You can’t argue with somebody who’s made up their mind.
They were blaming me for all the delays and everything. They had to blame it on somebody, so they blamed it on me. Well, everybody has to have a whipping boy and certainly the studio. They have to find a scapegoat, they have to find somebody. I was the most logical person.
Acting afforded me the opportunity of time. I didn’t have to do anything. I only had to do it once a year for three months at the most. It become just a way of making a living.
It’s much harder to do nothing.
If anybody would every try to take advantage of my children, hurting somebody that I love, I’d fight for them, I would kill them.
My father was a drunk. Tough. Whore-fucker, bar fighter, super masculine. And it was tough. My mother was very… very poetic. But also a drunk.
What we have learned about the Indians has been largely taught to us by Hollywood and by motion pictures. Seeing Indians represented as savage, as ugly, as nasty and vicious. Everything we are taught about the American Indian is wrong.
There have been 400 treaties written by the United States in good faith with the Indians and every single one of them was broken. We like to see ourselves as perhaps John Wayne sees us. That we are a country that stands for freedom, for rightness, for justice. It just simply doesn’t apply. And we were the most rapacious, aggressive, destructive, torturing, monstrous people, who swept from one coast to the other, murdering and causing mayhem among the Indians. But that isn’t revealed, ‘cause we don’t the that image of ourselves.
Conviction of the myth is everything.
And I’m looking at this very deep, indescribable night. I think, “God, I’ve no importance.” “Whatever I do or don’t do, or what anybody does, is no more important than the grains of sand that I’m lying on.”
I’ve made as much as 14 million dollars for 12 days’ work on a rather silly movie.
I never tried to be like my father, but on inadvertently takes on the characteristics of one’s parents. When my father died, I imagined that he was slump-shouldered, walking to the edge of eternity. He looked back and said, “I did the best I could, kid.”
Finally I forgave my father, because I realized that I was sinner because of him. But he was a sinner because his mother left him when he was four. He didn’t have a chance. And through introspection, and the examination of my mind, I feel as though I’m coming closer to the common denominator of what it means to be human.