As always, much fun is provided by the current sex symbols, but Jayne and Elvis are too patently creatures of the publicity experts, fuzzy carbon copies of the old freewheeling originals, the vamps and sheiks who invented themselves and lived up so gorgeously to their own legends. The recent crop of Method actors and the official representatives of the beatnik constituency are rather too sullen in their personal style to add much color to the pallid scene. The biggest noise they make is on their bongo drums and their gestures of protest are no less standardized than the conformist patterns they pretend to reject. They have their own conformism, these eagle scouts of The Actors Studio;there is no madness in their method.
Of the authentic mavericks the youngest, men like Mitchum and Sinatra, are in their forties.
As usual with Welles, some interpretation and reading between the lines, so to speak, is required. Correct me if I'm wrong, but is Welles saying that, comparing Elvis Presley to Frank Sinatra is like comparing Jayne Mansfield to Marilyn Monroe?