LEELA WEST
FILMMAKER
REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE: Masculinity & The Value Of Sincerity
Rebel Without a Cause is widely regarded as one of the greatest coming-of-age dramas of all time. The 1950s were a time when the concept of a teenager represented a whole new identity—one that marked the transition from childhood to adulthood. Children are attempting to find their footing in the world and decide what kind of person they want to be for the rest of their lives. When Rebel Without a Cause was initially released, the movie was marketed as a sociological study of juvenile delinquency. There were a bunch of kids sitting there with nothing better to do than get into trouble. It was a new period of wealth, children had money in their pockets, and "teenagers" began to take on a bad reputation in the public perception, posing a threat to adults owing to demography. Elvis Presley was already beginning that seismic change down
South when Rebel debuted in cinemas, and while he would not reach national popularity until 1956, the process was already underway. Rebel is not a literal interpretation. It doesn't feel "ripped from the headlines" like other films dealing with comparable issues at the time did. Instead, it treads lightly through a bombed-out landscape of existential dread and fatalism, a doom-ridden end-of-the-world consciousness nipping at that generation's heels, plagued by the revelations of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The children in the film believe that life is "weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable," which perplexes their parents, who grew up during the
Depression and fought in the war. What on earth do these children have to complain about? They grew up knowing that humanity was on the verge of destroying itself. What does it matter if a maniac on the other side of the world can press a button and vaporise us in an instant? This consciousness permeates through Rebel like an unseen toxic gas, impeding people's connections and erecting walls to communication. Although I am roughly the same age as the film's characters, I was surprised to discover their fears and queries so relatable to mine at the same age, despite the fact that it was created 70 years ago. The sense of yearning that comes with being a teenager, the "divine dissatisfaction" (to paraphrase Martha Graham), which gives even pleasant things a profound aching, reaches a high baroque level in Nicholas Ray's Rebel Without a Cause. The film is decadently baroque, saturated in symbolic hues and visuals evoking the crucifixion and resurrection, and takes place entirely throughout Easter weekend. Rebel mainlines into the mother lode of anxiety, sexuality, identity, and the desire for maturity in teenagers, who are at the whim of their hormones and lack of experience in a world where "This too shall pass" has no meaning.
One of Dean's strengths is his innate ability to mix a gloomy inward energy with an outward feeling of action and objective. His acting would be incomplete if he favoured one over the other. The internal energy is the sensation that he is always thinking, wondering, and ruminating on a level unrelated to the script. Dean never forgets to play the subtext. The way he kisses Judy tenderly on her temple, the way he covers Plato up as he sleeps, the way he manhandles his father all contribute to his spectacular noteworthy performance as an actor. In the latter example, Dean does not forget that Jim's primary feeling is grief, not wrath. And when he puts on the scarlet jacket for the chickie run, you get a sense of danger. It's a warning sign, a red flag, a rejection of the tweed-jacket-loafer "costume" he donned in previous scenes. A rejection of everything. ​
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The 1950s nuclear family originated in the post-World War II era, when Americans faced the impending prospect of devastation from their Cold War adversaries. The ideal nuclear family turned inward, seeking to keep their house secure even if the rest of the world wasn't. The image that we recall, owing largely to the American television shows of the time, is that of the picture-perfect family consisting of the bread-winning, rule-making middle-class father, the doting housewife who was thrilled to wake up every single day and clean the house and cook all of the meals, and their children who never seemed to get into any sort of trouble that could not be resolved. Gender roles on television became more stringent and rigid in the 1950s than they had ever been. Every morning, the guys put on their business suits, went to their corporate jobs, became part of the American rat race, and were then supposed to return home and be a father figure and husband. These were frequently the same men who had served on the battlefields of WWII or the Korean War, but their responsibilities had shifted, and they now had to combat Communism at home by becoming the ideal American man. “…now it is time to raise legitimate children, and make money, and dress properly, and be kind to one’s wife, and admire one’s boss, and learn not to worry, and think of oneself as what? That makes no difference, he thought – I’m just a man in a grey flannel suit” - Sloan Wlson.
​What I liked about Rebel was the ongoing conflict between infancy and society's expectations of maturity, particularly masculinity. On the big screen, they portrayed counter-culture ideals of masculinity of the time, giving birth to the post-modern male teenager. The film begins with 17-year-old Jim Stark, a high school transfer student with a rough history marked by fights and disobedience, playing with a child's monkey toy while wandering along an empty street at night. We next see Jim being escorted to a police station, arrested on a public intoxication charge, swaying and laughing at the officers' disgruntled remarks. Here we meet the film's three teenage rebels: Jim (James Dean), Judy (Natalie Wood), and Plato (Sal Mineo). We learn about their reasons for being in jail, as well as their individual damage and strife. Judy has ran away from home, feeling severely neglected and unloved by her father, who has withdrawn affection as she's gotten older, referring to her as "a dirty tramp," causing Judy to believe that her father hates her. However, when she is told that her mother is picking her up, she starts crying even more, insisting that they promised to contact her father. Judy's wish to be picked up at the police station by her father implies that she ran away for attention and wanted her father to feel guilty and console her. In a parallel office, we see Plato, who has been taken into the station by his caretaker after shooting a litter of puppies with his mothers pistol, who's away. The officer enquires about Plato's father, to which the caretaker says that he is separated from his mother and rarely sees him. The officer advises Plato consult a psychiatrist, to which Plato laughs and says, "A headshrinker?", stating that his mother does not approve of them. The films nihilism seeps through Rebel like an invisible poison gas, inhibiting people’s relationships to one another, throwing up barriers in our attempts to connect.
Look at the framing in the first scene. The three lead characters are all present in the frame, but there are barriers between them and yet the way they are placed in the frame connects them, almost against their will. Jim childishly imitates an ambulance siren in the reception before his parents pick him up, having just returned from a social function dressed in their finest evening
attire, concerned and perplexed by his intoxicated state. We cut to a scene inside an office where Jim's family dynamic and, eventually, the basis of his dissatisfaction are demonstrated, with the two bickering back and forth about Jim's motivations for continuously getting in trouble, prompting Jim to yell, "YOU'RE TEARING ME APART! "You say one thing, he says another, and then everybody switches again!" His mother sternly responds, "That's a fine way to act!" Detective Fremick secludes Jim to speak with him privately, exhausted by his parents' repeated contradictory statements. Jim tries to attack Fremick in an attempt to assert his dominance when he makes a statement about Jim's phoney, tough guy persona; however, Fremick instructs Jim to vent his rage on his desk instead. Jim recalls how his mother speaks down to his father and how if his father struck his mother once to show his strength as a man, the entire power dynamic would shift. He said, "She eats him alive and he takes it," likening his home life to a zoo. This exemplifies the essence of postmodern male youths, who strive to meet society's expectations of a man while grappling with the fundamental dilemma of what that means.
Obviously, masculinity plays a significant role in the film and is linked to the issues of adolescence and personal identity. We see multiple examples of Jim's struggle with asserting his dominance, most notably the "chicken run" and the knife battle he has with Buzz Gunderson, who nicknames him 'chicken' outside the observatory when his goons begin ridiculing Jim for not doing anything about their slicing one of his tires. Jim's severe reaction to being called chicken and being perceived as timid derives from his mother and father's relationship, as we witness in multiple scenes with his mother yelling commands at his father, who simply accepts it. Jim refuses to be emasculated by Buzz, especially in front of Judy, and retaliates, unlike most sensible 1950s men who would have simply walked away. This primordial display of physical prowess is still exercised today, demonstrating young males in particular's need to be respected by other men and admired by women through public displays of violence. This is especially evident when Jim risks his life again during Chickie Run, arriving sporting his iconic red jacket. The two young men check their race vehicles. The atmosphere has shifted. The balance of the audience is made up of teens and young children. These two are males. They have outgrown the setting in which they are leaders. But they don't understand what "being a man" entails. Their dads haven't taught them. They must create their own world, their own rules, because the men in their life have failed them. Buzz and Jim, exhausted from all the drama, converse peacefully while staring over the cliff.
Buzz: You know something? I like you.
Jim: Why do we do this?
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Buzz: You've gotta do something. Don't you?
This may be the most crucial interaction in the film. Even with the odour of nihilism and fatalism permeating the action, there remains a doomed prospect of connection. But it's doomed nonetheless.The scene's fatal escalation clearly demonstrates the consequences of such extreme behaviour and Buzz, a 17-year-old kid with his whole life ahead of him, dies trying to defend his manhood.
This is a watershed moment in the film; suddenly, all of the juvenile caricatures of manhood lose meaning, and Jim feels the crushing weight of Buzz's death on his conscience. He confesses to his parents his role in the chickie run and Buzz's death, indicating that he intends to give himself in to the police, but his parents insist he not, stating "There were other people, why should you be the only one involved?!" Jim, upset at being misunderstood, shouts back, "BECAUSE I AM INVOLVED!" WE'RE ALL INVOLVED! Mom a boy, a kid was killed tonight. I don't see how I can get out of that by pretending it didn't happen…for once I want to do something right!” Infuriated and disappointed by his parents' unethical, selfish, and plain cowardly response in telling him that he'll understand when he's older, implying that as you mature, you lose your integrity and moral compass. Jim demonstrates characteristics of what he feels a man should be, such as honesty and the belief that courage comes in doing the right thing, but his mother informs him that he will be unable to confess since they are moving. Jim takes his mother's forearm and defends himself and his father, telling her that she would no longer use them as an excuse to evade her issues and asking for his father's support. Unfortunately, Frank remains mute as
before; even after his kid has stuck his neck out for him, he is unable to reciprocate. Even the cinematography and proxemics of the sequence reflect the family's power dynamics and opposing moral perspectives, with the father at the foot of the stairs and the mother at the top towering over him, and Jim depicting her as the matriarch of the household. Enraged at his father's silence, he lays hands on him before storming out of the home,
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destroying an antique painting along the way. Judy's rampant sexual uncertainty was interpreted as so combustible that studio executives were concerned about some of the ramifications. For example, her concerning relationship with her father? Fathers are essential to Rebel. Mothers are unimportant. They're either scolding nonentities
or irresponsibly invisible. Fathers have shirked their responsibilities and thus their children are growing up broken. Sex is the radical subversive underpinning of Rebel: sexual politics in suburban homes, the threat of incest, and what it means to a father to see his child—particularly a daughter—bloom sexually. Judy's father rejected her as she entered adolescence. He no longer expresses his affection for her; he no longer kisses her and instead
shames her for maturing into womanhood. When she attempts to kiss him at the dinner table, he erupts. She's too old for that now, too old to be loved by her father. By rejecting her, he abandons her to the wolves of her peers, where she will now strut, pose, and "act out," seeking validation via sex. But Judy doesn't truly want sex; she wants acceptance and love.
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One of my favourite sequences in the film occurs between Judy and Jim after they've both fled their homes. Judy apologises sincerely for being rude before, and that he shouldn't believe what she says in front of the other kids. Then she offers one of the most sentimental lines in the entire film: "Nobody acts sincere." There is a brief pause before Jim leans in and gently kisses her cheek. She asks why he did it, and he shyly mumbles under his breath, "Because I wanted to." I believe this exchange of words perfectly summarises the film. The decline and value of sincerity in society. It signifies the loss of children's naive authenticity, which is bullied and driven out of young adults as they age. These stereotypically feminine attributes that society shames males for exhibiting are precisely the ones that the world needs more of.
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After being jumped, Plato rushes home, retrieves his mother's gun—the same one he used to shoot the puppies at the start of the film—and searches for Jim, whom he discovers at the abandoned mansion Plato told him about at the observatory. The three teenagers embrace their childlike exuberance and play House, with Jim and Judy pretending to be a married couple and Plato serving as their realtor. They parade around the property inspecting the amenities, making sarcastic remarks about children, claiming that they are "noisy and troublesome." In character, Judy declares, "I don't know what to do when they cry, do you, dear?" Jim reacts coldly in an exaggerated deep voice stating "Drown them like puppies." Scenes in which children play House and recreate what they envision adult and parenthood are like always move me. It reminds me of Peter Pan (2003), when the Lost Boys beg Wendy to be their mother, saying that all she has to do is tell wonderful stories. The nuclear family's simplistic performance allows children to play out the family dynamics they have always desired but could never have, healing retrospectively in the process. This applies to Rebel, as the trio settle into their idealised familial unit, reclining on a bench with Jim's head resting on Judy's lap as she runs her fingers through Plato's hair, humming him to sleep. Everyone has everything they want right now. Judy has an adoring "husband," Jim has a loving family who respect him, and Plato has two caring, protective, and present parents. This is further discussed in the third act when Judy asks Jim, "What kind of person do you think a girl wants?" and he answers, "A man." Judy responds, “Yes, but a man who can be gentle and sweet, like you are. And someone who doesn't run away when you want them, like being Plato's friend when nobody else liked him. That’s being strong.” There is a moment of silence, as if Judy had challenged and crushed Jim's concept of what a man is. After a time, he calmly promises her,We’re not going to be alone anymore, ever, ever. Not you or me.” Judy beams and replies, “I love somebody. All this time i’ve been looking for someone to love me and now I love somebody…and it’s so easy.” In this one moment, both Jim and Judy have had their questions answered; Jim now understands what constitutes a good spouse, parent, and man, while Judy no longer seeks external validation and is content with loving someone else.
Judy was acting with her "juvie" friends, and Jim saw straight through it when he saw her sobbing at the police station. He doesn't understand why she feels compelled to "act", the tough-girl persona doesn't suit her. Judy begins to realise this herself, as she spends the long night hiding away with Jim and Plato, and a softness emerges, a softness squashed by her
father's rejection and the Judy was acting with her "juvie" friends, and Jim saw straight through it when he saw her sobbing at the police station. He doesn't understand why she feels compelled to "act", the tough-girl persona doesn't suit her. Judy begins to realise this herself, as she spends the long night hiding away with Jim and Plato, and a softness emerges, a softness squashed by her father's rejection and the careless treatment she has
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received from boys for being the "Rizzo" at her school. With Jim and Plato, she can be gentle, sympathetic, and maternal. She gets to be sensitive and open, rather than obnoxious and tough. But in Jim and Plato's Utopia, surrounded by shattered statues and cracked concrete of an abandoned mansion, she is allowed to be both strong and sensitive. Both energies are vital in our world, and none should be shamed out of existence. Conformity in gender roles is damaging because it suppresses our natural responses and the way we want to be. When behaviour is dictated by an external force, the only natural response is to rebel. Judy was put into this role by her father. Judy is good at mothering Plato. Judy is equally skilled at loving Jim. Notice that these are stereotyped "roles" for women. But in Judy's case, it is something to treasure. Although Plato is raised by the family maid who genuinely loves him, he needs a proper family. He picks Jim Stark as his new father from the minute he first sees him at the police station. But, of course, what actually occurs is that he falls in love with Jim, and Mineo plainly portrays this. Plato follows Jim around with his gaze, and you can feel his heart racing with love, passion, self-projection, and idolatry. Jim feels what is going on and includes Plato, defends him, and does not judge him for experiencing those feelings.
As the last act commences, we know that this fantasy utopia the kids have manufactured wont last much longer. Buzz's thugs, thinking that Jim snitched to the police about the chickie run, come to the mansion and pursue Plato inside with knives brandished. Panicked, Plato kills one of Buzz's gang members before rushing into Jim, who hears the commotion. Plato, who is in a state of shock and delusion, fights Jim off, screaming that he is not his father! The police, Jim's parents, and Plato's caretaker arrive after Plato flees up the hill and into Griffith Observatory. Jim and Judy sneak in, and enter the Planetarium to draw Plato out of hiding, aware of his fragile mental state. When Jim screams out his name, Plato timidly asks, "Do you think the end of the world will come at night?" Jim responds, "Hm Hm…at dawn." This alludes back to their conversation in the planetarium at the beginning of the film, when Jim informs Plato he can come out of hiding: "You can wake up now, the universe has ended." Plato eventually rears his head, and Jim asks if he may briefly hold his revolver so he can discreetly extract the ammunition. Jim then returns Plato's gun and gives him his famous red jacket, handing the thread of red rebellion to Plato, who in a minute will commit the most pure act of defiance in the whole film. Jim and Judy soothe Plato's fear by leading him outdoors, but when he sees the police lights, he asks Jim to turn them off. Like a father soothing a child, Jim complies and approaches the police. However, as Plato pulls out his empty revolver, the bright lights are turned back on, prompting Plato to panic and get fatally shot by the sheriff, who was unaware that Jim had pocketed the magazine. Jim, like a young child, pulls at Plato's lifeless corpse. His father, crying, "It is not your fault; you did everything a man could." Jim's performance of a father shatters, leaving just a desperate child clinging to his father's knees. His father goes down and embraces his son, telling him that "[he] can depend on [him], and whatever happens, [they'll] face it together." In protecting and caring for Plato, Jim has inadvertently shown his father what it takes to be a man, the courage and love it requires. As Judy pulls Jim into an embrace and, Plato's body, wearing Jim's jacket, is taken away on a stretcher, symbolising Jim's rebellion dying and departing with Plato. In the end, Jim sees the effects of his choices, both good and bad, and realises that the most important thing in life for adults is the fortitude and tenacity to keep going forward as life continues on.
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Jim, Judy, and Plato are not kids from the wrong side of the tracks, and this is intentional. There is no simple diagnosis for what ails these three (and it varies for each). You cannot put a finger at what is wrong. The entire world, school, parents, and authorities are smothering them. Rebel Without a Cause is dark enough to indicate that what is wrong is the way our civilisation was set up in the first place, the emphasis it places on fitting in, the violence with which it handles outsiders, and its pitilessness towards those who cannot play by the arbitrary rules. Rebel is brave enough to admit the difficult truth that what is wrong doesn't really matter in the larger scheme of things. We are all composed of stardust and will return to it. We're a blip on the universe's radar screen. Perhaps being polite to one another is important, but it doesn't alter the course of events, it doesn't change a damn thing. In this context, the most important scene in Rebel is the field trip to the planetarium, where our three heroes are confronted with the end of the world as presented in a flashing light show, intended to shock and awe, or perhaps instill a little humility, and give the kids perspective on their proper place in the scheme of things. Each character reacts differently, but they are all severely disturbed by the encounter. They are not yet attached, but they share a same experience: peering up at the artificial sky. The film's title is correct. There is no reason. What we have here is an awareness of mortality that has reached a deafening boom. How can we live with the knowledge that we shall die? How do you live with the knowledge that the world is about to end? And it will finish with a boom, not a whimper. The sensitive youngsters at the centre of Rebel are perplexed by the grownups in their lives who appear unconcerned about such issues. What is wrong with today's kids? What the hell is wrong with the adults?
Judy
You know, I bet you’re a real yo-yo.
Jim
I love you too.