Play Come to Life

Back in the old days, TV movies weren't anything like today's standard tear-jerker Lifetime flick fare. They seemed more like plays that simply happened to be shot with film on a few sets; they were often shot live, like a play.

In most ways, the film version of Marty isn't so different from the 1953 teleplay that came before it: We spend time with the characters in a series of interiors. There's Marty's house, the bar, the coffee shop, Tommy's house, the dance hall—all shot straight on as if we're looking at a stage from the first row.

All of these were shot on the MGM lot in Hollywood. But there are two key differences that really lend a sense of space and movement to this particular movie.

He's Just Marty from The Block

Before J.Lo, there was Marty. It's important to the story that it takes place in the Bronx, which back then was a small-feeling borough in a big city, where the Italian-American community knows each other's business way too well.

And we get to see the Bronx itself on display in Marty. Director Delbert Mann treats us to on-location shots of Arthur Avenue (a main drag for the hood) and the Grand Concourse (where the elevated train connected the Bronx to the rest of the city). In all of the Bronx's black-and-white glory, its hustle and its bustle, we can begin to get a sense not only of who our characters are, but also the time and place in which they live.

House Tour, Cinema-Style

While a different director might have shot Marty walking from one room and then cut to the next room as he entered it, Delbert Mann shows a real love of following the characters. There's Teresa, bringing a glass of water to her sister by walking from the kitchen to the parlor. There's Marty bringing Clara into the vestibule, through the kitchen, and into the dining room.

This kind of camera movement can make it feel like we're moving along with the characters, even though the film never works from a first-person perspective. Instead, the flowy nature of the cinematography seems to underline the lack of boundaries in a small immigrant community—and in Marty's life, where everybody knows everything and nothing can be kept secret.