Still Fresh After Sixty Years

Is Giant's Barbecue The Tastiest Of All?

I recently went to a high school reunion, nothing in itself, but occasion again to be yanked from real life into a movie seen numerous times that left a big impression, just because some aspect of the event took me there. In this case, it was a barbecue grill with a crowd stood round that spoke Giant to me. Did these 150 revelers not get such an obvious connection? Somehow I expected them to, but how reasonable is that? Giant came out over sixty years ago after all. Less and less people have heard of it since. All the world's a screen, however, at least for film hounds with much of lives given to it. The reunionists grilled a pig for their open air feast, as in a hog split open and brimming with fresh meat, to which came the revelation that I am Bick Benedict and these are my guests. Survey of classmates did not reveal a Jett Rink stood apart and pulling a horse's tail, nor a Leslie/Liz, however well-preserved some of attendees were. Barbecue transported me to Reata, Giant my pick (or pig-pickin') for a most vivid cook-out in all of movies. It seems not fashionable these days to like Giant, but to this mind and eyes, it is every bit the "Cavalcade" Warner's promised in 1956 publicity, barbecuing but one of plenty highlights spread over three hours and twenty-one minutes. Can't, in fact, think of a 50's epic I like better.

The barbecue scene is early introduction to Reata way of life. It brings on characters that will populate Giant, and firms up those we know.  There is flavor and detail few films achieved to then, or since. George Stevens famously shot miles of footage he would spend a year sifting through. His camera addressed players from every angle, requiring take after take, which had to exhaust them. With so much footage for Stevens to pick from, he got flawless results that were almost intimidating. The barbecue is a Swiss watch of a Giant set-piece, but no more so than the rest of it. Reata neighbors to figure into a next three hours line up one by one to meet Bick’s new wife. We get that this is undiscovered country for her, the barbecue pit stood in for earthy way of life she must adjust to. Also an outlier is Jett Rink, but more so the actor who plays him, James Dean. Separated from the cook-out, Dean lingered apart as well from others of the cast who had to adjust to him. Pulling a horse’s tail as he crosses the frame, Jimmy poses for imagery he knows will be iconic, though to what degree he could not have imagined. Dean understood what it took to register as a star, that more his goal, I suspect, than excelling as an actor. Jett peering from under the brim of a hat, propped full-length in the back seat of a 20’s auto, any of shots devoted to Dean could serve as magazine covers, or giveaway to fans. Stevens had to recognize this as he spent a post-Dean-death year editing Giant.

Marfa residents were welcome to the barbecue. By some accounts, they were even fed. Come one and all was Stevens policy for all-outdoor settings. He called townsfolk “good will ambassadors” for Giant. They'd serve as extras for the feed, and many more of them stood back of cameras. Giant stars took breaks to sign autographs. A vista shot includes the Reata house in a far background, space so vast as to make human participants seem fewer. I don’t wonder that pilgrims still go to Marfa and what’s left of the structure, crumbled to almost nothing as it is. Must be spooky to stand alone, or with a companion, and regard what was once such active ground. Hallowed ground, they'd call it. Is it still sacred for Texans after sixty years? The barbecue puts several stories underway as folks feast, Leslie as awkward fit to Texas culture, Vashti announcing her own marriage now that Bick is unattainable, Jett as outsider and photographed so, plus Luz (Mercedes McCambridge) kidded by a tactless neighbor who says Luz would “rather herd cattle than make love.” Jett as friend and ultimate beneficiary of Luz’s estate makes sense for their shared isolation here. For that matter, Bick might be sole among principals not isolated amidst vast space director Stevens uses.

James Dean does his soon-to-be-immortal car pose to burnish the point. The auto-mo-bile, as Bick calls it, is reminder that a first half of Giant is period set. Otherwise, and based on Dean's dress and deportment, you could place Jett Rink for here-and-now, as in 1956, if not today. He had done a same trick in East Of Eden with sweaters any 50's teen would be pleased to wear at school, Dean realizing that fashion on him was timeless (would current youth opt for a red windbreaker like what he wore, and made sensation of, in Rebel Without A Cause?). Dean in the car became a most sought after card from Giant's lobby set of eight, and made up all of art on the film's R-80's one-sheet from Kino (at right), this after he became a best reason to go and see a movie old as Giant. We may assume that Jett/Jimmy partakes not of barbecue delights. Was Dean ever shown eating in a film, or would this have brought him too far down to earth? Cary Grant once advised a fellow player never to indulge during a public appearance, because sure enough camera-bugs would capture you with mouth agape and shoveling food into it. Grant knew his public would simply not allow a star to be too human.

Big sloppy plates of barbecue are yet repugnant to many. Raw animal on a spit can have such effect. Tough to look at, let alone eat. Stevens captures that reaction where Leslie/Liz recoils from a dish she's offered. Bick has just informed her that it is a "calf's head," not realizing this is the wrong-est thing to say. We know from incidents of the barbecue that Bick/Leslie are in numerous ways mismatched. Stevens makes sure ranch hands unwrap the calf head so we won't miss detail. I envision the director preparing final form of Giant, perusing dozens of calf close-ups to pick a most graphic one. Such detail is what makes Giant a favorite, certainly for me. Stevens cuts from the close-up to meat dropped heavy on Leslie's plate, us knowing what result will be. She'll faint, as expected and set up from previous shots, the sequence ending with Luz saying to herself if not other characters that "I knew this was going to happen." For himself, Stevens could build to multiple pay-offs here and in other highlights of Giant, structural echoes from silent comedy he worked on years before at Roach. You could take out the barbecue and call that splendidly realized portion a whole movie, notwithstanding so many other wonders to enjoy in Giant.