Jackie Earle Haley: Grease Is the Word
By Jamie Painter Young
Pimply, freckle-specked, greasy, long-haired, wiry, short, raspy--how I loved Jackie Earle Haley in Breaking Away, the 1979 film that won the Oscar for best original screenplay for Steve Tesich's portrayal of a group of teenage friends coming of age in a Middle American college town. As the character Moocher, one of a foursome of loyal pals struggling to keep the gang together after high school, Haley's contributions to this memorable ensemble--that included Dennis Quaid, Daniel Stern, Dennis Christopher, Paul Dooley, and Barbara Barrie--are significant.
I particularly love the scene in which Haley and his bride-to-be (Amy Wright) are outside the courthouse about to get hitched. "You look nice," says a beaming Wright when her groom arrives in a clean T-shirt. Later in the same scene, when his fiancee tells him she only has four of the five bucks required for the marriage license, Moocher replies, "That's OK. We'll go Dutch." And who can forget the climactic finale in which the ill-suited Moocher agrees to help his cycling-fanatic friend, played by Christopher, win the "Little 500" bicycle race on the college campus? I will forever love the term "cutters," the term the snobby coeds in the movie call these working-class townies. It's the ultimate underdog story and Haley made for a great, unlikely hero to root for.
While I wouldn't call it typecasting, Haley had already solidified his status as the ultra-hip underdog in The Bad News Bears movies. As Kelly Leak, Haley is a tough, Harley-riding, cigarette-smoking, girl-chasing, juvenile delinquent who gets roped into leading the "Chico's Bail Bonds"-sponsored Little League team, the beleaguered Bears, to the championship series.
While I'm sure that Henry Winkler's "The Fonz" character on Happy Days was the inspiration for Kelly Leak, Haley was, at least for me, the coolest kid I'd ever seen when I was a wee 7 years old. And watching this film nearly three decades later, it's amazing how fresh his performance still is. Of course he had the late Walter Matthau to work opposite, which couldn't have hurt.
Haley got into show business initially in commercials and voiceover. Prior to Bad News Bears he proved his acting chops in John Schlesinger's adaptation of Nathanael West's classic The Day of the Locust, in which played a monstrous child star. After Breaking Away, Haley reprised his role as Moocher in a short-lived TV series and then played a similar role in Losin' It, opposite Tom Cruise.
The 1980s and '90s were not fruitful acting years for Haley, and besides a few forgettable horror and sci-fi flicks such as Dollman and Nemesis, Haley slipped into oblivion. While Back Stage West was unable to track him down, his most recent job stints appear to be behind the camera as a screenwriter and producer, though there are no notable titles to share.
Louis Gossett Jr.: Big on Talent
By Lori Talley
We might have come to know Louis Gossett Jr. as a skillful performer on the basketball court--possibly playing against our city's beloved Lakers--rather than as a respected acting talent in Hollywood if he had decided not to attend an open Broadway audition while still in high school. Lucky for us, he headed for the stage. He beat the odds, competing against hundreds of young hopefuls and getting hired as a lead in Take a Giant Step, for which he won the Donaldson Award as best newcomer to theatre. While his basketball skills earned Gossett a scholarship to NYU and an invitation to try out for the New York Knicks, he decided to continue acting, taking a role in the Broadway production of A Raisin in the Sun. Not a bad decision.
Gossett starred opposite icon Sidney Poitier in Lorraine Hansberry's play and reprised the role of young George Murchison in the 1961 movie with Poitier and Ruby Dee. Gossett has worked successfully in television and film but was largely unnoticed by the public until his Emmy-winning role as Fiddler, who takes fellow slave Kunta Kinte under his wing in the monumental ABC miniseries Roots, a role which brought to our attention his quiet authority and understated dignity.
Throughout the 1970s, Gossett played many roles that addressed race relations, including Hal Ashby's satire The Landlord. A performance as a callous drug-dealer stalking Nick Nolte and Jacqueline Bisset in The Deep catapulted Gossett to wider popularity, but his portrayal of tough drill instructor Gunnery Sgt. Emil Foley in An Officer and a Gentleman won him a Best Supporting Oscar. He became the third black actor in history to be recognized by the Academy and thus secured his position in the Hollywood hierarchy.
At his best, Gossett offers presence more than performance. His work is never showy but clean, relaxed, and simple. Gossett brings a dramatic heft to his roles, not only because of his size. He certainly delivered the goods in roles such as professor Sam Adekunle, the corrupt African dignitary in A Good Man in Africa. His distinct and nuanced performances even manage to give credibility to a number of lackluster theatrical vehicles, many of which were released directly to home video.
One may wonder where Gossett has been for so long. He may have been working fairly steadily, but he surely hasn't been as visible as he was during his early successes. And that's a shame. Because, in his most recent screen appearance--as R.C. Horn in Showtime's original fact-based film Jasper, Texas, about the treatment of James Byrd Jr.'s brutal dragging death five years ago in a small Texas town--Gossett reminds us of his greatness.
Gossett has been performing for more than 40 years in an ever-evolving industry, and it seems he still pursues acting with the idealism and enthusiasm of someone just getting started. Now it's time for Hollywood to catch up with him once again.
William Hurt: Cool Heat
By Jenelle Riley
Has there ever been a more heartbreaking fall from grace than that of the phenomenally talented William Hurt? After a remarkable big screen debut in a no-holds-barred performance that literally brought out the Neanderthal in him in 1980's Altered States, Hurt built an amazing resume of critical and audience hits. The 1980s virtually belonged to him; he was nominated for an Oscar three years in a row, winning with his first nod for 1985's Kiss of the Spider Woman. Yet fast-forward to the 1990s, and there he was, consistently wasting his talents in mindless junk such as Mr. Wonderful, Lost in Space, and Trial By Jury.
This wouldn't have been so heartbreaking if the world hadn't already seen what he was capable of. Tall and almost ridiculously handsome, Hurt could have easily relied on his classic good looks and snagged any amount of himbo roles. Instead he turned our expectations upside-down with a string of risky choices. From an impotent Vietnam vet in The Big Chill, to a homosexual political prisoner in Spider Woman, to the aforementioned man-beast in Altered States, Hurt's choices were always unpredictable. Any other actor might have made these performances laughable, but in Hurt's skilled hands they were sublime. And when he did take on the "leading man" role, it was often to poke fun at the image, such as his shallow anchorman in Broadcast News or the clueless sucker in the modern-day noir Body Heat. No one made unavailability as sexy as Hurt; you could understand why Geena Davis' dog walker in The Accidental Tourist was so eager to unlock the secrets behind his seemingly bland expression.
Hurt also proved himself an unlikely comedian, perfecting an inimitable deadpan style. When Mary Kay Place's character in The Big Chill says how awful she feels for fighting with a friend shortly before he committed suicide, Hurt dryly responds, "Yeah, that's probably why he killed himself." And his befuddled expression at a bat loose in the attic is worth the price of admission alone. Of course who can forget his priceless reaction in Body Heat to Kathleen Turner's classic come-on, "You're not too smart, are you? I like that in a man."
In recent years, Hurt seems to be returning to material more deserving of his talents. His arrogant professor in One True Thing was genuinely touching, even if his character took a backseat to the relationship between Meryl Streep and Renee Zellweger. After turning down Steven Spielberg's offer to star in Jurassic Park (what was he thinking?) he delivered a quietly nuanced performance in the director's Artificial Intelligence: A.I. And this year he will star in M. Night Shyamalan's latest creepfest, The Village.
Perhaps Hurt simply doesn't want or crave the Hollywood limelight; he currently lives in Oregon with his sons and continues to appear frequently onstage. He endured tough times with the tabloids years ago--a tough experience for anyone, but especially for an actor who seemed to so cherish his privacy. It might simply be that he continues to follow his own path, choosing projects that speak to him regardless of what Hollywood thinks he should do. And it's that originality and risk-taking that makes his work so remarkable.
Ray Wise: At His Peaks
By Terry Morgan
Ray Wise has two qualities that get him into this issue of Actors We Love: He's always great, and you know who he is, even if you don't recall his name. A recent issue of TV Guide enumerated the Top Cult TV Shows. One was Twin Peaks. To describe Peaks as simply a "cult phenomenon," however, isn't entirely accurate. While the series currently has a devoted following, it was a huge success in its time and is a seminal influence on TV. What the question "Who Killed J.R?" was to the 1980s, "Who Killed Laura Palmer" was to '90s television. The answer of course was her demon-possessed father, Leland Palmer. Portraying him was Ray Wise. Remember him now?
Wise has worked in film and television for more than 30 years, but he's not unfamiliar with theatre; he won an Obie for his performance as "Hoss" in The Tooth of Crime. He's been a staple in myriad soap operas, and he works in TV to this day, with appearances on shows as varied as Sports Night, Dawson's Creek, and Judging Amy. He began his film career in Swamp Thing, then went on to play a Depression-era father in The Journey of Natty Gann and a thug in Robocop. In recent years he's been featured in the Project Greenlight film The Battle of Shaker Heights and as a vengeful farmer in Jeepers Creepers 2. Wise was terrific in all these roles. But it's his performance as Leland Palmer that sticks with me years later, that haunts me.
Peaks begins with the discovery of teenager Laura Palmer's body floating in a river. Her lawyer father, Leland, go-to guy for nefarious local business interests, is shattered. Wise is a study in grief here, and a scene in which he has a breakdown at a hotel dance is acting at its most uncomfortably real. During the whole first season, Leland is a hollow, staggering shell of a man, but in Season Two he's a changed fellow. His hair turned entirely white overnight, Leland has regained his composure. Wise inverts his previous performance with an eerie conviviality, a song-and-dance man with something dark behind the eyes. But all of this is simply a setup for shocking revelations to come. The scene in which Leland murders his niece is perhaps the most brutal in TV history, the man's mock Father Knows Best rectitude replaced by sheer savagery. Leland's subsequent confession and suicide are a tour de force for Wise, who alternates from moment to moment between seeming to channel evil and experiencing heartbreaking loss.
Wise's reprisal of the character in the underrated film Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me deepens his achievement, the whole of it a harrowing pas de deux between him and Sheryl Lee. Watching Peaks again recently, I was amazed that when the series first ran, no one guessed that Leland was the killer; watching it now, it seems extravagantly obvious. It occurs to me that Wise was so good at playing Leland--so tortured, creepily funny, horrifying--that viewers forgot they were playing detective and were simply dazzled by a bravura performance. That's a notable achievement, and the luster of it shines in Wise's acting to this day.
Nancy McKeon: Queen of Tomboys
By Laura Weinert
To have a sitcom such as The Facts of Life available during our formative years as young women was a godsend--not only because it was a tightly scripted, girl-focused show snapping with one-liners but also because we got to know Jo Polniaczek, played by Nancy McKeon. As Jo, McKeon introduced a new kind of tough-girl cool into the sitcom vernacular. Sure we were seduced for a while into envying her fellow coed Blair Warner, with her golden tresses and good breeding, her preppiness, pumps, and pearls. But then there was Jo. What other young female sitcom character knew how to fix a motorcycle? Jo was like a girl Fonzie but with more wit and better lines.
McKeon brought to the show more than just great timing, combined with her defensiveness. A fish-out-of-water, she bristled at the privileged world of Eastland private girls school. In the best episodes, we see that underneath her streetwise Bronx persona, Jo is a woman with a soft heart, as confused as we were at that age. On the rare occasion that tears come from McKeon, she seems so shockingly vulnerable it takes your breath away.
Indeed it was McKeon's presence that may have saved the original show. When the NBC series debuted in 1979, it was without McKeon, and ratings were so-so. After the first season, Molly Ringwald was cut from the cast and McKeon brought onboard when producers saw her in the pilot Dusty. Ratings rose and the series enjoyed a nine-year run.
McKeon had an early start as a performer, modeling for Sears at age 2 and appearing in commercials. Her family came out from New York when her brother Philip was cast as Linda Lavin's son on Alice. Then came the Facts of Life break.
Where has McKeon been since then? Fans were disappointed when she failed to show for the 2001 Facts of Life reunion movie. McKeon claimed, "I'm just not a fan of that kind of thing. I would not watch it, so why would I be in it? It's just never the same." Like other female TV stars--Melissa Gilbert, Valerie Harper--McKeon went on to work in the made-for-TV movie genre, producing movies through her company Forest Hills Entertainment, including Strange Voices and Firefighter (playing L.A.'s first woman firefighter).
While she didn't get cast as Monica on Friends--despite being considered--she has done a number of series, including the short-lived single-woman CBS sitcom Can't Hurry Love and Style & Substance, starring Jean Smart. Eventually, McKeon landed on Lifetime's The Division, playing one of five female San Francisco cops.
Although she still displays the gifts she had as a young actor, women may thank her most for what she achieved as Jo: giving hope and a sense of triumph to all the tomboys of the '80s. At that age, few of us were like her smug counterpart Blair Warner, but we knew people who were, and there was nothing so satisfying as seeing those people get knocked down a peg. When Blair boasts, "A Warner is like a delicate souffle," she gets what's coming to her: "Yeah. Light and empty." Joe got the chance to say all the things we wanted to say, and thanks to McKeon, with the timing and attitude we never had.