Burt Reynolds and Marlon Brando are two iconic names that have shaped Hollywood, yet their interactions were anything but friendly. During a time when Reynolds dominated the box office, earning the title of Hollywood’s top draw for five consecutive years beginning in 1978, he couldn’t escape Brando’s formidable shadow. Despite Reynolds’ undeniable success, he was often scrutinized under the lens of Brando’s legacy, with the latter enjoying a level of reverence that eluded the former. Reynolds, well-known for his suave good looks, often drew comparisons to Brando—in particular, the latter’s brooding allure during his prime. This resemblance would come to a head in the 1963 episode of The Twilight Zone, titled “The Bard,” where Reynolds’ character unmistakably channeled Brando’s method acting style. The juxtaposition of their careers and public personas set the stage for a rivalry that would grow increasingly bitter over the years. Interestingly, this animosity wasn’t solely fueled by the stark contrast in their acting styles; personal dissatisfaction also played a significant role. As Reynolds embarked on his journey to solidify his standing as more than just a pretty face in the early 70s, he made some eyebrow-raising choices that only added to the tensions. With esteemed roles slipping through his fingers, including vital parts in The Godfather and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, the story of his career was intertwined with Brando’s disdain. Reynolds famously turned down the role of Michael Corleone, which eventually went to Al Pacino. Explaining his exit in his memoir, But Enough About Me, Reynolds revealed that Brando had threatened to withdraw from the film if he was cast. Tensions ran high—had things played out differently, the legacy of The Godfather might have looked quite different with Reynolds taking the lead. It’s clear that Brando’s feelings toward Reynolds went deeper than mere professional conflict. An audio recording from 1979, unearthed in recent years, revealed Brando’s shocking contempt. He openly expressed his loathing for Reynolds, stating, “Don’t say that name around me. He is the epitome of something that makes me want to throw up.”
Brando went further, labeling Reynolds as “the epitome of everything that is disgusting about the thespian.”
He criticized Reynolds for his perceived narcissism and recalled an incident he found particularly repulsive: a scene from the movie The Man Who Loved Cat Dancing, where Reynolds involved a Native American child in an apparent public relations stunt. This moment encapsulated for Brando everything he found distasteful about Reynolds. Despite this fierce rivalry, we cannot overlook Brando’s early days as the undeniable star, having captivated audiences with his roles in classics like A Streetcar Named Desire and On the Waterfront. His talent set the bar for method acting, and it was hard for others, including Reynolds, to emerge from his shadow without facing the sting of comparison. As the 1970s unfolded, Brando continued to secure his status within the industry, solidifying it with his role as Vito Corleone in The Godfather. The film’s unbelievable success only fueled the divide as Reynolds sought to carve his niche amidst what seemed an insurmountable legacy. The tension did not cease with The Godfather. When Francis Ford Coppola began casting for Apocalypse Now, Reynolds found himself again in the crosshairs of Brando’s contempt. Brando’s reluctance to share a project with Reynolds only complicated the casting process further for Coppola. Reynolds’s career flourished in the late 70s and 80s—think Smokey and the Bandit and Boogie Nights—and he became beloved for his unique brand of humor and charm. Yet, regardless of Reynolds’ accomplishments, the shadow cast by Brando’s critique loomed large over him, serving as a constant reminder of their rocky relationship. The story of these two actors showcases not just rivalry but a reflection of the competitive nature of Hollywood—a place where ambition intertwines with personal conflict. As fans, we are left to wonder how different the cinematic landscape might have been had Reynolds and Brando managed to coexist not just as contemporaries but as collaborators. Instead, we remember their legacies shaped by what could have been.
Read more
