35-year old Bronx butcher (Oscar-winner Ernest Borgnine), unmarried and living with his widowed Italian-Catholic mamma, meets a single girl at a dance who has the same low self-esteem as he does; after coffee, pie, and about three hours of intimate conversation, he's smitten with the girl, but his single buddies and his worried mother immediately disapprove. As directed by Delbert Mann and written by Paddy Chayefsky (adapted from his teleplay), we're supposed to automatically see ourselves in these "real" characters--yet nobody on-screen talks with the rhythm of real people. Chayefsky tries turning naturally hurried, everyday talk into low-class poetry, but his own rhythm is repetitive (Borgnine keeps asking everyone, "Whad'dya so sore about?!" in the same intonation). One sees right away the circular device of the slim story--and waits for the plot-thread to come full circle. Surprisingly, when it does, it's quite satisfying, mostly due to Borgnine's insight into his character and his dedication to keeping him honest. The picture isn't profound, nor is it especially intuitive or heart-wrenching, but it does have a quiet easiness that appeals to audiences. When Betsy Blair returns home from her date with Borgnine, she talks about the date to her parents in a light, sing-songy way that makes you smile. What doesn't pass are the performances by Esther Minciotti and Augusta Ciolli as Borgnine's mother and his aunt; these women approach the material like they've been playing the same characters on TV or on the stage for years, and their braying voices and martyred hurts are so creaky they threaten to turn the proceedings into a self-parody. *** from ****
Review of Marty
