His interest in the condition of Native Americans in the United States was sustained and serious. He had read the relevant history. He understood the specific mechanism by which film and television had contributed to the dehumanization of Indigenous people: the reduction of dozens of distinct cultures, languages, and histories into a single “Hollywood Indian” stereotype that appeared on screen as either a bloodthirsty savage threatening white settlers or a tragic, fading noble reduced to passivity by an inevitable Western advance. He understood that these images were not neutral entertainment. They had effects on how the broader American public understood Native people, and they had effects on Native children who saw themselves reflected in those images.
He had spoken about this publicly before the ceremony. In interviews and conversations over the preceding years, he had articulated a consistent position: the entertainment industry had a specific responsibility for the images it projected, and it had abdicated that responsibility with respect to Indigenous people in particular.
The Godfather, which won him the Oscar, had nothing to do with Native Americans. It was set entirely within the world of Italian-American organized crime. The film’s subject matter was not what motivated Brando’s protest. The Oscar was the occasion — a platform of maximum visibility, offered at the moment when his public standing was at its peak, at a ceremony watched by tens of millions of people. He had decided, before the nominations were announced, that if he won, he would use the moment.
He asked a young woman named Sacheen Littlefeather if she would be willing to go in his place.