Character Analysis
Underdog, Pt. 2
Long before Rudy made us cheer for the underdog and Dodgeball: A True Underdog Movie made us wonder why we weren't spending more time playing dodgeball, Marty gave us the million-time loser we could root for. He may be a thirty-four-year-old butcher with a face only a mother could love… but he's also a good son, a loyal friend, and a kind stranger.
So while Marty is a bit of a "dog," in 1955 slang terms, he's also our good guy hero. Say what you like: Everyone's been rejected and, like Marty, everyone's just trying to do the best they can. He's easy to empathize with—he's a guy who smiles even as he exemplifies some of our worst social fears (rejection: ugh).
MARTY: Angie, I'm thirty-four years old. I been looking for a girl every Saturday night of my life. I'm tired of looking.
What more could we ask for?
We know Marty's a loyal, dutiful son and a polite butcher (even when his customers are rude), but there are a few things about this awesome chubby dude that make us really want to give him a hug and a warm chocolate chip cookie.
Here are some of them:
#1: He refuses Herb's "five bucks" offer.
Not only does he tell Clara's rude blind date that "You can't just walk off on a girl like that"—go, Marty—he then goes and says hi to the woman who's just been stood up. Should he be inducted into the Great People Hall of Fame just for this? Maybe not. But let's remember than he knows what it feels like to be rejected, and he doesn't want it to happen to anyone else.
#2: He says no thanks to the "odd squirrel."
A lot of guys from the 'hood—including Ralph, Leo, George, Joe, and Angie—are after girls who look like pin-ups and let their dates hit all three bases. So it wouldn't be out of the ordinary (at least judging by his friends) for Marty to pull a Herb and go for the fifth wheel who's already blitzed and ready to party:
RALPH: These are the nurses I told you about. Money in the bank, man. Wanna get in the car? She's a pretty nice-looking doll.
But he doesn't—he returns to Clara and her kind, gentle, sober ways.
#3: He tells Angie he's done hanging out for the evening.
Do we feel a little bad for Angie when Marty shows he's busy with this new gal? Sure. After all, Angie's in the same position as Marty (pretty much), and Marty did abandon him at the dance hall. This poor guy spends the whole Saturday night looking for Marty, only to find him with a girl.
We know Marty is usually a loyal friend, but we see him grabbing for happiness when he tells Angie that he's done hanging with him for the night. Sometimes, you just have to chase your own happiness… even if it means falling on your sword during a make-up convo with your buddy the next day.
The Thin Line Between Anger and Sadness
When we meet Marty, he's settling in to a long bachelorhood. He's done with the group dates, the dance halls, and the set-ups. At first look, he seems relatively resigned to his fate… no matter how often this customer or that friend asks him when he's going to get hitched. He simply smiles, or changes the subject.
But there are two times that Marty really loses his cool, seeming to betray a deep reserve of lonely pain under that grinning exterior. Let's take a look and get to the bottom of these Mister Hyde moments.
Suppertime Sadness
The first time Marty flies off the handle is when, over dinner, his mother urges him to try the Stardust Ballroom, where his cousin met his wife Virginia. At first he goes on eating, laughing at the suggestion.
After all, he's been there before. "It's just a dance hall," he laughs, shrugging off the suggestion. But his mother won't be stopped, and urges him to put on his nice blue suit and see if he can't meet someone. She pushes and pushes until poor Marty explodes: "I'm ugly!" he hollers, over and over, getting up from the table and turning away. If he goes, he knows what's in store: "a night of heartache." His anger doesn't last long, though, and pretty soon he's back at the dining room table. He lost his head for just a moment, but now he's back… he'll go to the dance hall like his mama told him to.
We're wondering: Do you think he goes to the Stardust Ballroom simply because he's a good son, or because somewhere, down deep, he believe in himself and in love?
Nice Guys Finish Not So Nice
We're all familiar with the fictional dangers of the "friend zone," where someone's "too nice" to be considered a candidate for romance.
We see a teensy bit of this nice guy complex shine out in Marty after he tries to kiss Clara for the first time. She rejects him—he's moving a little too fast for her— and he starts blowing up. He says:
MARTY: All I wanted was a lousy kiss! What do you think, I was gonna try something serious with my mother coming home any minute!?
And he goes on to angrily monologue about how he should know better by now. He kind of loses it, to be honest. Do you think he's more upset about his life's worth of rejections, or Clara rejecting him?
Of course, Clara confesses her fondness for him a moment after that, and they finally do get a kind of tentative kiss-nuzzle combination that can make your heart melt like a Popsicle.
Yep. It's dead-hard not to root for this guy. But are there any moments where your own applause falters? Does he seem creepy? How do the moments when he seems needy affect your opinion of his character?
But even if Marty does seem kind of like a "nice guy" caricature at times, he ultimately listens to his heart. He decides not to buy in to anyone else's idea of how he should live (like Angie telling him that Clara is a dog, or his mother nixing her because she's not Italian), but instead follow his affection:
MARTY: What am I crazy? I got something good here. [...] All I know is I hadda good time last night. I'm gonna have a good time tonight. If we have enough good times together, I'm gonna go down on my knees and beg that girl to marry me.
And with a speech like that, how can you feel anything for Marty but total love?
Marty Piletti's Timeline