Showing posts with label Eileen Heckart. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Eileen Heckart. Show all posts

Monday, April 15, 2013

Diving Headlong Once More into the TV Movie Time Tunnel!

Well, as I noted in an earlier post, I've been feeding my nostalgic little soul recently with trips to youtube.com in order to watch old made-for-television movies. Pared of their commercials, these delights only run about an hour and fifteen minutes, give or take, and feature many of the stars I grew up loving. It's been so much fun to revisit these (or, in most cases, see them for the very first time!) You may view them yourselves by clicking on the titles of these telefilms.
First up is the 1972 mystery Haunts of the Very Rich. In it, seven people are on board a well-heeled airliner with room to spare. They are headed for a luxury resort which promises to fulfill their desires in a very individualized way. (This telefilm is very much, at least in scheme, like a precursor to Fantasy Island right down to the tropical setting and host Moses Gunn's all white clothing and mystique-filled manner.)

Guests include libidinous Lloyd Bridges, exhausted Anne Francis, “Plain Jane” Cloris Leachman, aggressive businessman Ed Asner, clergyman Robert Reed and affectionate newlyweds Tony Bill and Donna Mills. (Interestingly, both Leachman and Asner were appearing on The Mary Tyler Moore Show at the time.) Upon arrival at the secluded and remote hotel, these folks are appointed rooms which mirror almost exactly what they would like or expect out of a fantasy vacation. Then a storm knocks the power out and they find they are trapped with no electricity and precious little food and water. Believe it or not, this is really the least of their problems!

A solid cast of familiar faces does well with the sometimes difficult storyline, with each one of them (with the possible exception of Bill and Mills) getting a chance to show off his or her acting talent. Mills does at least get one enjoyable realization scene towards the end. It's campy, yet serious, tacky, yet glitzy. Leachman gets an amusing makeover during her stay. The filming locale is an actual estate in Miami called Vizcaya and it's impressive indeed! (See below an old and a more recent view of the place.)
I had been wanting to see 1972's The Screaming Woman for some time and finally got around to it. Here, we have Miss Olivia de Havilland as a wealthy, recently released mental patient who happily goes for a horse-drawn ride in her buggy until stumbling upon a whining, digging dog. When she goes to investigate what's wrong, she hears a woman moaning for help UNDER the ground! This sends her into hysterics and she runs all the way back to her mansion for help.

Unfortunately for her, her sap of a son (Charles Robinson) and her scheming daughter-in-law (Laraine Stephens) don't believe her far-fetched tale and actually would love to see de Havilland sent away for good so that they can sell her property for a hefty profit. Land developers are building family homes in the neighborhood and want a nice chunk of hers. These neighbors are a source of potential help as de Havilland ignores her family's (and her doctor's) warning and strikes out to rescue the trapped woman.


De Havilland is surrounded by a host of familiar TV and movie faces including Peyton Place's Ed Nelson, cinema veteran Walter Pidgeon, Charles Drake, Lonny Chapman and her old Hush, Hush... Sweet Charlotte costar Joseph Cotten. Also on hand is late-'60s/early-'70s blonde bimbo Alexandra Hay.

The tight, contrived movie (which easily could have been part of a one-hour suspense anthology, too) is simultaneously terrifying and unintentionally funny. Liv is sort of goofily polite (even though no one in the neighborhood thinks of her that way) and helpless, but there is no denying the severity of the dire situation (which is never hidden from the viewer even at the outset) and you can't say she isn't engaged. (And she still knows how to deliver a close-up.) I enjoyed this quite a bit despite its shortcomings.

I find any kind of '70s disaster movie, whether a feature or made-for-TV, difficult to resist. Thus, I was thrilled to come upon 1974's Skyway to Death. I was even more excited when I saw that the cast consisted of Stefanie Powers, The Mod Squad's Tige Andrews and former teen idol Bobby Sherman. The project also starred Ross Martin, Nancy Malone, John Astin and amusing little old lady Ruth McDevitt.

Sadly, despite a reasonably promising beginning, in which a disgruntled tram worker deliberately makes the title vehicle become disabled while carrying eight people (with a storm approaching!), this just never came to life. It was never exciting, often stagnant, and I don't believe anyone died, which makes the title of it a lie. Couldn't the tram at least send everyone toppling over at some point? Zzzzzzz...

One thing I thought was sort of interesting was that McDevitt (the doddery pet shop owner from 1963's The Birds) pilfered a roll from the mountaintop restaurant and told Powers that it was “for the birds.” Another thing that was welcome was the fascinating glimpse into the place where this movie was partially shot, the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway, an attraction that still operates today, but with better, more scenic-friendly people-carriers and a nicer restaurant.
Next we come to 1971's The Failing of Raymond, in which Oscar-winner Jane Wyman portrays a teacher on the verge of retirement who is confronted by a one-time student harboring an intense hatred for her over a long ago test score. It seems that one day as a substitute, Wyman had just broken up with a married boyfriend and was unduly distracted and out of patience. The student (played in the past and present by Dean Stockwell) misunderstood the test and she didn't allow him to fix it, so he failed.

Now, fully grown and having escaped a mental institution, Stockwell is planning to force her to let him retake the test and has daydreams of killing her as soon as she's passed him! He goes to the school in order to accost her, but upon arriving is mistaken for having responded to her ad for a helpmate in packing up her classroom items!

She's distantly polite to him, never dreaming what he has in store for her. His plans must take a backseat when some of her co-teachers announce that she's going to a party in her honor (one of who is played by Priscilla Pointer, center, and another by Mary Jackson, memorable for her recurring role on The Waltons.) Stockwell will not be deterred, though, and returns the following day to carry out his plans. Wyman's central performance is supplemented by those of several other veterans including Murray Hamilton, Tim O'Connor and Dana Andrews (who plays her ex-lover.) There are two other actors of note, seen here in the middle and bottom pictures. Recognize them at all? It's not easy!

The older gentleman is Paul Henreid, playing a doctor of psychiatry (trading somewhat on his long ago role in 1942's Now, Voyager opposite Bette Davis.) The girl, a fellow patient of Stockwell's won the role (her screen debut) thanks to the fact that her father was the director, though she did go on to carve out some acting success on her own. The director of this movie was Boris Sagal and this girl is his daughter Katey Sagal of Married with Children (1987-1997) and 8 Simple Rules (2002-2005.)

Now it was time to satisfy my appetite for Donna Mills (something that didn't take place with her smallish, rather inconsequential role in Haunts.) I turned to 1973's The Bait. In it, someone is ritualistically raping and murdering pretty young women and the police have thus far been impotent in stopping it. Undercover policewoman Mills, who most often works in drug sting operations and surveillance, volunteers to help lure the maniac into coming after her, hence the movie's title. Her superior, Michael Constantine, sets her up with a showy apartment and a job in the district where the attacks have occurred.

A widow with a young son (and a handsome, seemingly patient boyfriend), she relies on her kindly mother-in-law June Lockhart for sitting help. Interestingly, she has a black and a white pair of partners in her scheme to nab the killer, a concept that would also pop up a year later when Angie Dickinson starred in the groundbreaking series Police Woman. 1973 was a key year for female police officers as Sue Ane Langdon played one on an episode of Police Story as well.

Mills reports to work (in increasingly shorter skirts and with increasingly flashy hair and make-up, when her initial cries for attention don't work!) and combs the neighborhood trying to get an angle on the case. She befriends a local diner waitress (the eternally chirpy Arlene Golonka) and gets to know the amiable bus driver who takes her to work each day (played by William Devane, who would later costar with her quite memorably on Knots Landing!) Finally, she does begin to receive phone calls from the nutjob and eventually has to fend him off, but not before endangering her son and his grandma.

Moving on, I chose to view the 1972 thriller The Victim, starring Elizabeth Montgomery. In the wake of Bewitched's cancellation that same year, Montgomery was keen to reestablish her reputation as a dramatic actress and began a lengthy string of serious telefilms, the first of which was this one. (Later, she would star in A Case of Rape in 1974, The Legend of Lizzie Borden in 1975 and the remake Dark Victory in 1976, to name just a few.)

Here, she plays a wealthy woman who is concerned about her younger sister (Jess Walton, who later spent many years on The Young and the Restless as Jill Abbott.) Walton lives in a handsome lodge, practically in the middle of nowhere, and is having serious marital problems. On a whim, Montgomery decides to make the drive to be with her, but unfortunately a major storm is brewing. She arrives at the house, drenched by the torrential rainfall, only to find it empty but for the family cat.

Appearing on the scene is quasi-neighbor and part-time house-keeper Eileen Heckart, who makes little pretense at friendliness or accommodation. She sloughs around (in an amusingly careworn way) with hardly a care in the world as to what might have happened to Walton. As we soon find out (though Montgomery hasn't yet), something HAS happened to Walton because her open-eyed corpse is lying in a large basket on the premises!

Phoning in (literally!) a two-part cameo is bubbly, crazily-expressive actress Sue Ane Langdon as a concerned friend of Walton's who wonders what has become of her. It's unlikely, based on the way these scenes were shot, that Langdon even met up with any of the movie's costars! Anyway, as the storm picks up steam (crazily sending a massive tree limb through one of the house's upstairs windows) and the electricity is lost, Montgomery's fears accelerate. They are partly relieved once Walton's husband George Maharis returns to his house, but the troubles aren't yet over.

Montgomery is very compelling to watch (which is a good thing because she's practically the whole show here!) and kudos to her for being able to leave Samantha Stevens behind (though sometimes we kind of wait for her to wriggle her nose and give herself a hand with the various problems that crop up.) Heckart is also terrific, as usual. Maharis has little to do and arrives to the proceedings quite late. The ending is both muddled and rushed, which is a shame since there is true suspense built up beforehand.

That same year, the TV-movie The Astronaut was aired. This one concerned a mission to Mars (set in the future, but under ten years so) in which one of the astronauts is felled my a mysterious condition. Due to fear that the space program's budget will be cut as a result, a few NASA execs (Jackie Cooper, Robert Lansing and Richard Anderson, who would soon be part of another top secret mission on The Six Million Dollar Man) conspire to cover up the man's death.

They, with the dead astronaut's prearranged blessing in the event of his death, hire a man who looks much like him (Monte Markham plays both parts) and put him through both surgery and an intense training program. Thus, when the one living astronaut (James Sikking) comes back to Earth, they can slide the imposter into the rescue helicopter and proceed as if nothing is wrong! The one snag is that the real astronaut has a pregnant wife (Susan Clark) who cannot be upset for fear of losing the baby.

Markham is coerced into returning to Clark and posing as her husband. Unfortunately for the conspirators, it turns out that the imposter is actually nicer and more considerate than the dead man he's replacing and it is this which raises Clark's antennae! Complications ensue which lead to Markham and Clark fighting, but then coming to an understanding. However, Markham by that time is considered a top security risk... The undeniably far-fetched story is given a great try by the cast and director, with Clark turning in a great performance in what is the project's meatiest role.

My never-ending thirst for 1970s disaster led me next to the 1974 flick Heatwave! In it, the city of Los Angeles begins to experience a series of record-setting high temperatures, rendering its citizens into sweaty, faint, agitated, powerless people who have little to no way of escaping the broiling conditions. Young married couple Ben Murphy and Bonnie Bedelia wake to find their air conditioner on the fritz and the tap water brown with muck. (Even though he isn't naked in this short to the right, I like to pretend he is!) For a while, his stock brokerage office remains open, but eventually can no longer operate. Meanwhile, she, pregnant with their first child, collapses at an overcrowded laundromat.

In a bid to escape the brutal, suffocating conditions of the city, they opt to visit her parents' cabin up in the mountains, but getting there becomes a trial in itself. First, they visit a diner with no electricity at which they are limited to one small glass of lukewarm water apiece. Then, they are stopped by a frantic, stranded man who proceeds to steal their car! They have to proceed on foot for several miles through rugged terrain with no provisions and only the hope of a stream for hydration.

Once they've finally reached the cabin, they discover a couple of teenagers have already taken up residence there (!), but they come to an understanding about that. Still, with Bedelia suddenly forced into premature labor, things get quite dicey, though there is a kindly doctor (Lew Ayres) nearby who may be able to help. What really creates a problem, though, is that Murphy and Bedelia's premature baby is in dire need of an incubator, but not only isn't there one around, but there isn't electricity or fuel to run it anyway!

While this was a reasonably captivating TV-movie, it seems a shame to me that anyone would cast Ben Murphy in a project about a heat wave and then allow him to wear any clothes. Ha! He does start out the movie in a pair of shorts, but otherwise is almost always covered up (in, oddly, yellow in virtually every case!) He should have been naked or in a loin cloth. He also is given some unappealing glasses to wear (and, in fact, is pretty whiny and annoying throughout.) One of the chief surprises is a scene in which the visibly pregnant Bedelia is offered a cold beer and takes it without anyone including herself blinking! You'd be luckier in finding a Hollywood actress without Botox than such a scene in a movie today!

Probably the most disappointing of all the 1970s TV-movies I've watched in the two recent marathons I've done is this next one, 1975's The Missing Are Deadly. (A better copy, but annoyingly broken into parts begins here.) In it, Peyton Place's Ed Nelson and Star Trek's Leonard Nimoy are dueling scientists, attempting to combat a deadly bacterial plague, but going about it in different ways. Nimoy, against Nelson's advice, proceeds to work on fighting it with a virus injected into laboratory mice and things get out of hand when Nelson's sons (George O'Hanlon Jr & Gary Morgan) come to the lab and one of them (Morgan, who is mentally challenged) steals one of the infected mice! The caretaker for the boys, by the way, is Irene Tedrow, known to millions as cat-owning Mrs. Elkins of Dennis the Menace from 1959 - 1963.
The boys go off on a camping trip with O'Hanlon's girlfriend (played by Kathleen Quinlan), infecting people all the way. One of the infected is Quinlan's fixy mom, Marjorie Lord, and she, like anyone else who has come into contact with the mice-wielding teens, soon becomes ill and has to be quarantined until a cure can be implemented. Her hair doesn't seem to suffer too much in the process, though. Also on board is slumming Oscar-winner Jose Ferrar as another doctor working on the situation. The premise sounds somewhat exciting, like a pre-Outbreak (1995), but the execution is pedestrian, the writing uninvolving and pat and the characters cardboard, so that they finished project comes off as little better than an expanded episode of Shazam! or Isis... Incidentally, were you aware that Lord (of Make Room for Daddy) is the mother of Anne Archer?

Still thirsty for disaster, I next and finally (for now) checked out the 1974 telefilm The Day the Earth Moved. The title graphics on this one are amusing because after the name of the movie comes up, the letters crack and then fall apart! This one concerns Jackie Cooper as a pilot who co-owns an aerial photography business with Cleavon Little of Blazing Saddles, released this same year! The two, along with Cooper's dog (“Dog is My Co-Pilot??”) are surveying a stretch of desert for plans to build a retirement community and they fly over a rickety, one horse town. Later, Cooper is driving back home on his own and is ticketed for speeding through that town. He has $20 on him, but the fine is over $100! So he is forced (like something out of an old western!) to work the fine off by clearing rocks, garbage and other debris out of a run-down, immensely-dilapidated former tourist attraction with a Christmas theme.

He is given a rake and must work in sweltering heat in order to work long enough to get his impounded car back. The townspeople aren't exactly evil; more desperate, since the shithole of a place has less than nothing going for it. Cooper even has a secret good Samaritan who keeps giving him luxuries like a beer, an apple and a radio. (Cooper was fifty-three at the time and in admirable shape, with full and partial shirtless scenes. ) Meanwhile, back home at the office, Little and Cooper's wife Stella Stevens are starting to worry about what's become of him. Cooper continues to work off his fine, though he also has a eye towards escaping. He finally gets his chance, but leaves his dog with a helpful little girl he's befriended, promising to come back some day.

Once home, he is informed that there is something wrong with the film he'd been using on that initial flight. Eventually, it is discovered that the “defective” film is actually startlingly accurate at predicting earthquakes and, based on the data, the burg he was just held prisoner in is due for a big shake-up! Trouble is, his plane has been impounded due to lack of funds. Cooper, Little and Stevens steal back the plane in order to go and save the townspeople (who consist of the always welcome Lucille Benson, William Windom, Beverly Garland (in a hideous, cheap wig), little Tammy Harrington and a few others. Unbelievably, they all stand around debating while the earth rattles serious warnings at them! Finally, the ground starts really quaking and it's time to go, but several folks have ignorantly wandered back to their homes or other places to retrieve things.

The climax of the film (in the final dozen minutes or so) contains some surprisingly decent special effects work. It certainly didn't take much to trash the flimsy, hapless buildings, but there are also water and fire effects and, considering the time and the budget, it comes off pretty well. It's also unintentionally hilarious to watch the goofy citizens of the town being rounded up as the bewigged Garland watches in horror from the plane. Stevens has one true LOL moment when she has to keep an old geezer from trying to bring along a bunch of dusty, ragged tools and finally screams, “Come on!” in her best Poseidon Adventure voice.

The most fascinating credit for me was that this movie of the week was produced by Bobby Sherman, his only attempt at doing so, and the music for the film was also provided by him. When watching the film, I couldn't help noticing how unusual and unconventional the music was for a project of this time and type, not that I'd say it's amazing. Just different. So, it was interesting to see that Sherman was behind it. These are the only credits he has for producing and composing, though it seems to me that he did fairly well on both counts.
I doubt that I'm through wading through these nearly forgotten products of an earlier time. Bless the uploaders at youtube.com for making these available to those of us who enjoy glimpsing them again (or for the first time.) As you can see from this sampling, the stars overlap sometimes, as this was a nice opportunity for people to continue working once their series was on hiatus or cancelled (or their film career had petered out.) It's fun, in most cases, to see these people in action in a different light than we may be used to.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Leaning Towards Eileen

Not too long ago, I did a post on three actresses (Louise Latham, Joyce Van Patten and Diana Muldaur) who were ladies I initially either disliked or tended to avoid, but who later became favorites of mine. I mentioned then that there was one other flip-flopper that was so dramatic I would devote one post entirely to her, so here it is! The lady in question is the much-honored and respected stage, film and TV actress, Miss Eileen Heckart.

To provide a little back-story, anyone who knows me knows that The Poseidon Adventure is a film that changed my life. Viewing it on TV as a child, it was the first motion picture I can ever remember making me cry (most kids blubber over Bambi or Dumbo, of course I had to be different!) I was so invested in it, at the tender age of 8, and so disturbed by the unfairness of the events of the movie that I became forever fascinated by it.

When I got older, I read that Shelley Winters had won The Golden Globe for her role of Belle Rosen and had been nominated for an Oscar as well, but had somehow LOST! It was inconceivable to my pea brain that anyone could have given a better performance than her and I developed an unnatural and unfounded resentment towards the person who took home the statuette, Heckart for Butterflies Are Free. I never wanted to see that movie and never wanted to watch Heckart in anything.

I’m a fairly dramatic person now (shut up!), but in my teens and early 20s I was ridiculous. I also held these irrational grudges against other performers who won Oscars over my favorites (as if it was their fault!) such as Cher (who won over Glenn Close for Fatal Attraction) and Jodie Foster (who won over Close for Dangerous Liaisons.) All I can say is that I had a very cut and dried attitude, for some reason, that my choice had to be the only choice. I like to think I’ve progressed a little since then! (Probably damn little! LOL)

Miss Heckart was born Anna Eileen Heckart in Columbus, OH in 1919. The child of an alcoholic mother, separated from her father and eventually married to five different men, Eileen suffered an uneven, sometimes nightmarish existence. When she wasn’t being shuttled off to a grandmother who was physically abusive, she and her mother would spend weekend days at the local movie theaters, usually taking in two double features per day (a total of eight films in two days!) Joan Crawford was her favorite movie star. This escape nurtured her already fertile imagination.

Not allowing her hapless upbringing to dissuade her from making a success of herself, she was graduated from Ohio State University with a degree in English in 1942. Acting, however, was what she had her heart set on. A Girl Scout Camp skit when she was 8 years old had lit the fire in her. Having done some theatre while at OSU, she proceeded to New York City following graduation and worked in Off-Broadway as an understudy when not playing in parts of her own.

Married in 1943 to a man named Jack Yankee, she continued to eke out a living in theatre while he was in the Navy during WWII. (Their successful marriage would last until his death 53 years later!) By 1945, she had established herself as a solid performer and eventually worked on The Voice of the Turtle, a hit play, as an understudy, and even as an assistant stage manager, until becoming a replacement cast member. She learned a valuable lesson in humanity from the role’s predecessor Audrey Christie who kindly arranged to “have a toothache” one day so that Heckart could go on. In a matter of paying it forward, Heckart, throughout her incredibly lengthy and successful career, generally made it a habit to miss a performance at least once in order to let an understudy have their turn at bat.

Heckart went on to perform in more than twenty Broadway shows, the last one being The Cemetery Club in 1990. Though nominated several times for a Tony Award, she (amazingly enough) never won one and was finally granted an Honorary Tony in 2000 (and even then she was still working hard Off-Broadway, and earning Drama Desk and Obie awards for her trouble, as an Alzheimer’s patient in a play called The Waverly Gallery.)

As the 50s dawned and television came into vogue, Heckart became a valuable player in the many, many anthology series that dominated the airwaves at the time. Performing roles in dramatic playlets that were done live, all the while hoping to hit her marks, not tumble over cables and find her lighting, she, like so many other pioneers of the time, got a trial by fire. She was a frequent performer on Suspense and The Philco-Goodyear Television Playhouse. On the latter series, she had the good fortune to play in The Trip to Bountiful in 1953 opposite Lillian Gish.

In 1956, she made her film debut in Miracle in the Rain, a sentimental weepie about a doomed WWII love affair between Van Johnson and Jane Wyman. Heckart essayed the role of Wyman’s coworker and friend and was the epitome of a supporting player, making Wyman seem better through her own commitment and conviction. Heckart being a woman with an unusual (some have described it as horsey!) face, she would find herself often playing sidekicks, friends, professionals and other character roles rather than leading parts.

Next up for her was a role as Paul Newman’s mother in Somebody Up There Likes Me, the story of boxer Rocky Graziano. Newman inherited the career-building role after James Dean’s untimely death and was only six years younger than the actress playing his mom! The two had previously worked together in the Broadway production of Picnic, in which she originated the role of lonely schoolteacher Rosemary Sydney.

Great things were around the corner for Heckart, though there would also be some disappointments. She had developed a rewarding collaboration with playwright William Inge (of Picnic, Bus Stop and The Dark at the Top of the Stairs fame.) When Bus Stop was made into a film with Marilyn Monroe, a role not in the play was created just for her. Vera, a waitress who befriended Monroe, offered her the chance to appear in color and work in an ensemble with some very good actors. She was alternately fond of and disappointed in Monroe, however. Though she was capable of great things in front of the camera and was an expert in handling fans, she was often unprepared and could be exasperating to work with.
The greater opportunity came in her fourth film of 1956 when she was allowed to reprise her Broadway role in the film version of The Bad Seed. Here, she played the unfortunately named Hortense Daigle, a desperate, crushed woman whose bright, caring, young son has been brutally murdered, possibly by the outwardly darling-inwardly nasty little Patty McCormack.

If a person is going to be relegated to supporting roles, she could do far worse than this tour-de-force part in which the bereaved, depressed, despondent Mrs. Daigle confronts her son’s alleged attacker along with her sophisticated, disbelieving and more conventionally attractive mother, played by Nancy Kelly. The smallish role offered a wide spectrum of emotions and reactions and she rose to the occasion skillfully.

Heckart had made a great splash with the part on stage, but eventually had to leave the show because the dark cloud of depression and horror was getting to her and she had begun to visualize her own two-year old son’s face during the dialogue. For the film, she only had to reprise the material enough times to capture it on celluloid. An Oscar nomination came her way for her arresting performance, though she was nominated alongside McCormack and the votes may have been split, allowing (my beloved) Dorothy Malone to take home the statuette for Written on the Wind. Heckart did win the Golden Globe that year, however. When she sent a congratulatory telegram to Malone, Malone responded with a massive tub of begonias in appreciation of Heckart's sportsmanship.

Her next film came in 1958, in which she played the friendly, lively, fun, but pragmatic neighbor of a dejected Shirley Booth in Hot Spell. Booth’s character was married to a loutish Anthony Quinn and had three children with varying issues. One key scene had Heckart encouraging Booth to learn how to relax by drinking and smoking! Though this wasn’t a William Inge product, it seemed like one to many viewers and Eileen’s association with his work didn’t diminish this.

She had two disappointments when it came to film versions of Inge’s plays. Picnic, which had been a great success for her was filmed with the far more known commodity of Rosalind Russell in the spinster role of Rosemary. Russell cheated herself out of an Oscar nomination and possible win when she refused to allow herself to be counted as a supporting player (she had “prestige billing” in the credits, coming after the leads.) (Heckart is shown here with Ralph Meeker in the stage version.) Then when The Dark at the Top of the Stairs was made, Eileen was pregnant with one of her three sons and unable to take on the role, so it went to Eve Arden.

In 1960, George Cukor used her in his western Heller in Pink Tights. An unusual (to say the least) approach, it focused on an acting troupe featuring a blonde Sophia Loren along with Anthony Quinn and Margaret O’Brian. Cukor felt that all western films lacked color and was determined to infuse as much as he could into this one, the result being a film that as many people loathe as like it. In any case, Heckart managed to steal a few scenes in her small part.

Now balancing stage work with TV shows such as Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Play of the Week and Dr. Kildare, among others, she would occasionally land a film role as a pal of the star. Debbie Reynolds played an overworked and exhausted actress in My Six Loves who drags Eileen to the country to help her rest only to find half a dozen young tots in residence!

Popular TV series like Ben Casey, The Defenders, The Fugitive and Gunsmoke gave audiences a chance to see her shine. In the latter during one episode, she played a woman short on funds who takes a job as an older saloon “girl” at Miss Kitty’s only to create a stir in Dodge City. Forever possessing a throaty voice gained from a childhood bout with whooping cough and a glint in her eye that indicated that she was once step ahead of you, she could always be counted on to deliver knowing, expert performances.

1967’s Up the Down Staircase documented the highs and lows of a Bronx schoolteacher played by quirky Sandy Dennis. Heckart was on hand as a fellow teacher whose cheerful attitude attempts to disguise the fact that she has some potentially inappropriate feelings for one of her students. A sort of bookend of To Sir With Love, it was filmed in a real (and gritty, possibly dangerous) city school. The following year, she had a supporting part in the serial-strangler film No Way to Treat a Lady as investigator George Segal’s smothering Jewish mom.

Heckart had been playing in Butterflies Are Free on Broadway and in London’s West End in yet another plum role. The romantic comedy about a young, sheltered blind man and his wacky, free-thinking neighbor had been a hit and was affording great opportunities for actresses of a certain age to show up in Act II as the boy’s controlling mother. Heckart’s cast included Kier Dullea as the son and Blythe Danner as the neighbor. (A later cast put Gloria Swanson in as the mother along with Pamela Bellwood as the neighbor and I personally would like to know how Bellwood was able to project her whisper of a voice on a theatre stage!)

The 1972 film adaptation starred Edward Albert and Goldie Hawn. Following the stage outline rather closely, it stuck mainly to the apartment set, but sometimes opened up to local shops and restaurants in an attempt to avoid claustrophobia. Albert’s newfound independence and blossoming sex life is put in severe jeopardy when Mama Heckart drops in around the halfway point. Her forced grin temporarily sheathed a set of protective fangs.
This is the role for which she won the Oscar and one that I avoided watching for a long time. I really had to admit upon viewing it that she was nothing short of marvelous. It’s an actress-proof part in which anyone with a modicum of talent can stroll in and drop the snarky lines like firebombs, winning over the viewer (to a point), but she really radiated a secure, multifaceted grip on the role and brought a terrific dimension to the part. I had no choice but to acknowledge that she was wonderful. Shelley had to have been taken aback at the Oscars that year because she’d already taken home the Globe. Heckart hadn’t even been nominated for one of those!! It was a particularly weak year for that category, so she must have felt like a lock.

In any case, Winters already had two statuettes to her credit (which also may have worked against her) and Heckart had demonstrated that she was the definition of a good supporting actress and had been doing so for more than fifteen years.

That same year, she played a crusty, ill-tempered housekeeper in a TV thriller called The Victim. Elizabeth Montgomery starred as her employer who is terrorized by a mad killer during a storm and power outage. I will ask it again, as I seem to every other day, why can we never get to see these things?!

In 1974, she played Gene Hackman’s uneducated and put-upon mother in the film Zandy’s Bride. She was only eleven years his senior. Two years later, she had a cameo in the horror flick Burnt Offerings, as Burgess Meredith’s sister, the two being co-owners of a large, creepy house being rented by Oliver Reed and Karen Black. Bette Davis, a friend of Heckart’s was in the film as well, but they shared no scenes. Heckart once tried to quit smoking and lasted only until she met the fire-breathing Davis for dinner one night.

Around this time, Heckart made several guest appearances on The Mary Tyler Moore Show as Mary’s successful and outspoken Aunt Flo. A few years later, she would be the sole character from TMTMS, other than the title one played by Ed Asner, to reappear on Lou Grant. She also portrayed Eleanor Roosevelt in Backstairs at the White House and in F.D.R.: The Last Year. These two characters alone netted her a total of four Emmy nominations between them. Oddly enough, she also played Aunt Lillian on the Moore Show spin-off Rhoda!

A couple of short-lived regular series came her way in the mid-80s. First was a medical drama called Trauma Center in which she played a capable nurse. Then there was the ghastly Partners in Crime, a private eye show starring Lynda Carter and Loni Anderson, made on the cheap and with terrible scripts. Heckart, despite considerable success in the medium, never really cared for television. She had sawdust in her veins and preferred the stage, feeling TV was all about instant acting and close-ups. It was primarily a money-generating medium for her.

Clint Eastwood used her as the bartender of a place frequented by marines in Heartbreak Ridge in 1986. She even appeared on the daytime soap One Life to Live long enough to score another Emmy nod. When Mary Tyler Moore made one of her frequent (and always unsuccessful) tries for another series, Annie McGuire, she enlisted Heckart for a supporting part, but the show was done within ten episodes.

By now a lovably acidic addition to any TV show or movie, she was placed as the matriarch of another sitcom, The 5 Mrs. Buchanans, a show about four sisters-in-law who can never get out from under the thumb of their cranky, domineering mother-in-law. The show almost became a hit, lasting seventeen episodes, but ultimately failed to gather enough viewers. For my money, the cast was too disjointed in ages and types for it to really click.

From here, she played Diane Keaton’s mom in the very successful The First Wives Club and had limited runs on the series Murder One and Cybill (here portraying the mother of Christine Baranski’s character.)

Succumbing to lung cancer on the last day of 2001, Heckart left behind a staggering body of theatre work and a lot of interesting TV and film portrayals as well. Unfortunately for her, she lived to see and work in an era when theatre audiences began to chatter during performances and (for the love of God) bring cell phones inside and this disappointed her. She also noted the prohibitive ticket prices of professional theatre. However, she maintained that everything runs in cycles and that, perhaps, things wouldn’t be this way forever.

A lesser-known book (that I discovered only when researching this post!) about her life and career, written by one of her sons, is called Just Outside the Spotlight: Growing Up with Eileen Heckart. No less harsh an observer than Marlene Dietrich wrote about her in 1962, “If she were acting in Europe, she would be Queen of the Boards. In America, the typcasting barbarism deprives the world of her true talents.” I’m so glad I allowed myself to grow out of a petty snit about Eileen Heckart and let myself enjoy the many great things she did during her considerable career. Her particular brand of gravelly, gleaming, glinting grump is in short supply these days.