Greetings over your interweb devices
“The big man arrives
Disco dancers greet him
Plainclothes cops greet him
Small town, big man, fresh lipstick glistening
Sophomore jive
From victims of typewriters
The band sounds like typewriters
The big man he’s not listening
His eyes hold Edith
His left hand holds his right
What does that hand desire
That he grips it so tight.”
I once had a “spirited discussion” with an actor/producer about Ned Beatty. I was being interviewed for a possible directing position on a new show starring the man who was conducting the interview. He asked me to talk about some of the people with whom I had worked. The more recognizable names were, of course, the ladies of “The Golden Girls,” with whom I had the most experience, and the several guest stars we had had on the show whom I had directed (ranging from Peter Graves to Ken Howard to Steve Landesberg). I could have gone on naming several accomplished actors with less household names, but I then thought of Ned Beatty, with whom I had not only worked, but for one week in Baltimore, I got to know him a little bit better. Dropping Ned’s name did not elicit the response I anticipated.
A little background — I got the chance to meet Ned thanks to Tom Fontana, the brilliant writer and producer who was going to be the show runner of “Homicide, A Life on the Street.” Through Tom, I got sort of a “backstage pass,” to come and observe the filming of the pilot to that series. Not only would I have almost unlimited access to the production, but it was being directed by Barry Levinson, of whom I was (and still am) a great fan. It is a common thing at the start of a pilot to hear a producer, writer or director say they intend to reinvent the wheel, change the way things are done, or do something that has not been attempted before — it is very rare to actually see it done. Without making too big a deal out of it though, Barry really did have a groundbreaking approach (at least for TV) he wanted to try.
When I arrived in Baltimore the night before filming was to begin, I checked in to the same hotel in Fell’s Point where Tom and most of the cast and out-of-town crew were staying. Tom invited me up to join a group of them in his suite where they were all having drinks and were going to watch a movie. I arrived, said my hellos, grabbed a beer and found an empty seat. I was informed that the choice of films was Jean Luc Godard’s French New Wave masterpiece, “Breathless.” It sounded like fun, I hadn’t really seen the flick since film class in college. Just before he pressed play on the VCR, however,Tom added that this was the style Barry wanted to use to shoot the series.
The room went dark but for the flicker of the TV as I went through a quick mental checklist on what I could remember about French New Wave. From all I could recall, it didn’t seem like something to which American TV audiences would easily respond. But Barry and Tom were seasoned professionals, so I must have been confusing it with another style. The film began and it wasn’t long before we got to the first jump cut and I knew I had remembered correctly. French New Wave was known for its rawness, for a total rejection of all types of continuity in response to what the new filmmakers felt were the over-polished styles of the old-guard French directors. Suddenly the necessity for picking up a prop with the same hand on the same line, hitting marks the same each time, these were all gone. Even lighting conditions didn’t matter, if there was a cloud overhead in one take, and bright sun in the next, no matter. In editing, the shadows would appear and disappear, the actors would shift positions in the room – no matter because there was also a new freedom for the actors. With all the technical considerations eliminated, the actors were free to find the truth of the scene, of the individual take. There weren’t even assignments for the camera operator. Whatever it was that the truth of the moment in that take drew the camera operator’s attention, that’s where the camera would point.
Which brings me back to Ned Beatty. His character in “Homicide,” Stanley “The Big Man” Bollander, was a grizzled veteran of the force who was newly paired with the quirky, conspiracy-obsessed John Munch, played by comedian Richard Belzer. While Ned’s acting career was a richly deep and celebrated one, Richard’s credits featured roles which were based more on his own persona. The network wanted a different actor for the part of Munch, and Richard would be the last actor cast. My guess is that they thought the two would not match well, but Barry had a feeling, a good one. I watched intently as they went through the takes of their first scene together in the hallway of a hospital. Each time, Ned began by repeating the name of Richard’s character, Detective Munch, over and over, different ways, different intonations, elongating the “ch” sound in his name, then truncating it — it was almost as if he was discovering new meanings in each manipulation fo the word. I later realized through his vocal meanderings, “The Big Man” was putting Munch at ease, while Ned was doing the same for Richard. The veteran cop with his new partner AND the veteran actor with his partner now stretching his abilities. Later in the week, I got to spend a few lunches with them both and watched them getting along as if they had been friends forever.
Meanwhile, back at the job interview a couple of years later. When I brought up Ned’s name, the star/producer winced a bit and recounted that while he had not seen it directly, he understood Ned to be anti-Semitic. I was a bit thrown by that remark – I really hadn’t seen him give any such indication — not during that week in Baltimore (especially not in any way with Richard Belzer or Barry Levinson, both of whom are Jewish) — nor during the time I got to direct him. I did observe that Ned seemed to take on some of the qualities of his roles while he was performing them, method acting, if you will. I suggested that perhaps at the time whoever told him the story was working with him, Ned might have been playing a bigoted character — such a role would be well within his wheelhouse, and Ned may have said something untoward while still in character. I did get a positive reaction from my interviewer, he said that everyone should have a defender like me in their life. I didn’t get that job, though, but from both Mr. Levinson and Mr. Beatty, I got an amazing education.
Ned has left us now, but the lesson lives on and for that I am eternally grateful, thanks “Big Man.”
To one and all, Be Safe-Stay Healthy