The latest issue of GQ Style asks an interesting question:
In case you can't make it out, it's about halfway up on the left: "Robert Pattinson - Is he the Brando of his generation?"
There are two possible answers to this question. 1) "If you mean 'Is Robert Pattinson doomed to become a bloated, hysterical parody of his former self?', God yes, I hope so." 2) "No. You idiots."
Coincidentally, Pattinson - the sexually restrained vampire heart-throb of the Twilight films - is the same age, 24, that Brando was when he became famous playing Stanley Kowalski in the first production of A Streetcar Named Desire. Here's how Tennessee Williams' stage direction introduces Stanley:
Stanley throws the screen door of the kitchen open and comes in. He is of medium height, about five feet eight or nine, and strongly, compactly built. Animal joy in his being is implicit in all his movements and attitudes. Since earliest manhood the center of his life has been pleasure with women, the giving and taking of it, not with weak indulgence, dependently, but with the power and pride of a richly feathered male bird among hens. Branching out from this complete and satisfying centre are all the auxiliary channels of his life, such as his heartiness with men, his appreciation of rough humor, his love of good drink and food and games, his car, his radio, everything that is his, that bears his emblem of the gaudy seed-bearer.
Literally anybody could fill those boots better than Pattinson: me, you (it doesn't matter if you're a woman), my dog, Daniel Radcliffe. No, not Radcliffe, but you take my point.