But Brando, that heartbreakingly beautiful champion of the Stanislavskian revolution in acting, never arrived at Hamlet. Never even came close. He would go on to give us a few great things, and a few near great things, but eventually he would abandon himself, as every tabloid reader knows, to suet and sulks, self-loathing and self-parody. 

The greatness of few major cultural figures of our century rests on such a spindly foundation. No figure of his influence has so precariously balanced a handful of unforgettable achievements against a brimming barrelful of embarrassments. ///

For the passing years have taught us this: refusing to rally a revolution, Marlon Brando still managed to personify it. His shadow now touches every acting class in America, virtually every movie we see, every TV show we tune in. We know too that the faith vested in his example by all the De Niros and Pacinos, and, yes, the Johnny Depps and Leonardo DiCaprios, was not misplaced. 

Marlon Brando may have resisted his role in history, may even have travestied it, but, in the end, he could not evade it.

Duvall, who went on to appear again with Brando in "The Godfather Part II" and "Apocalypse Now," observed: "He really was the godfather to young actors coming up in the '70s and even today. 

"He was the guy, really, more than (Laurence) Olivier, or anybody. He was a very unique guy to begin with, but he had a wonderful, facile way of dealing with irreverence, healthy irreverence. This irreverence, I think, relaxed him and made him totally in touch with himself. So, he just was able to go about (his work) in a different way."

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He said he did Hollywood movies only because he was too weak to turn down the money. He disliked fans. He disliked rehearsals. He disdained learning lines (the better to keep things spontaneous). 

"Acting is just hustling," Brando told Playboy in 1979. "In your heart of hearts, you know perfectly well that movie stars aren't artists."

It was in the 1960s, though, that Brando truly began to separate himself from his audience, and Hollywood. 

First, he directed the new-style Western One-Eyed Jacks (1961), then he went prima donna, reportedly making a tortuous production of an underwhelming version of Mutiny on the Bounty (1962). 

As Brando's social conscience grew (his chief issues being Native Americans and civil rights), his film choices grew curiouser and curiouser. John Huston's Reflections in a Golden Eye (1967), in which Brando played a sexually conflicted Army major, was, in a word, weird. 

By the early 1970s, Hollywood's so-called "best actor" was unhirable. Coppola had to lobby to get studio brass to even consider Brando as The Godfather's godfather. Brando won the role of Vito Corleone only after consenting to an audition and a paltry (by his former standards) $50,000 paycheck.