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James Dean, man. Three movies, and then he was gone, just like that. Dead before Rebel Without a Cause was even released.
There was a time when James Dean was the embodiment of teenage angst and juvenile delinquency, thanks to Rebel. That staid grey lady, The New York Times, flipped out in its review of Rebel, calling it “a picture to make hair stand on end,” “violent, brutal and disturbing,” and “an excessively graphic depiction of teen-agers” complete with scenes depicting a “horrifying duel with switchblades,” and a “shocking presentation of a ‘chicky run’ ” in stolen automobiles.”
Teenagers of 1955 loved the movie, not least because whether the “graphic depiction of teen-agers” was accurate, it didn’t matter. Rebel depicted how the average disaffected American teenager of 1955 felt.
In the basement den, Bob tried to explain that he had stayed to see part of the movie over again. He talked about James Dean and waved his hand towards the walls covered with pasted-up photographs of the dead actor.
“James Dean, James Dean, James Dean,” his father repeated. He pulled a magazine photograph of the actor off the wall. “Don’t do that,” Bob yelled. The father tore the picture in half and threw the pieces to the floor. “Don’t raise your voice around here,” he said with finality, stamping upstairs…
