"There's No One Left to Fly the Plane!"

Karen Black's passing this week of cancer at the age of 74 has brought back a flood of memories of how following her career, and watching her movies, greatly expanded my knowledge of cinema and television.  I first discovered her while watching "Airport 1975" (1974) on the CBS Late Movie around 1986.  I was in junior high school at the time and I always loved movies and television since I was little, but I never had a true understanding of the medium up to that time.  While watching Karen Black in "Airport 1975," I became fascinated by her performance (I'll never forget the heartbreakingly sincere way she delivered the line "There's no one left to fly the plane!") and, as a result, began watching as many of her films as I could get my hands on.  Over the next few years, I discovered all of her 1970s classics like "Five Easy Pieces" (1970), "The Day of the Locust" (1975), and "Nashville" (1975) and she easily became one of my favorite actresses.  In so doing, I became familiar with the "New Hollywood" group of directors who rose to prominence in the 1970s as the traditional studio system was in decline.  If it weren't for Karen Black, it might have taken me awhile to get around to exploring that era of filmmaking.  By this point, however, Karen Black's career in the 1980s had degenerated into appearing in direct-to-video "B" movies.  Nevertheless, I marveled at how her name continued popping up in the "Variety" production listings of films currently, or about to start, filming.  It appeared as if she never stopped working, which turned out to be both a curse and a blessing for her career, depending on how you look at it.

As a big fan of her work, what makes her passing particularly poignant and bittersweet is reading all of the tributes being written about her in mainstream publications and websites, as well as seeing all of the fond and affectionate comments left by many of her fans at the end of these obituaries.  I kept thinking "Where was all of this acclaim and affection for her while she was still alive?  Why didn't this translate into continued employment in major-studio films and major awards and nominations?"  Even though many of her obituaries mentioned that she had made over 150 films, it should be made clear that many of those films were obscure, little-seen productions that usually played at film festivals or went straight to video or DVD.  The last time she made a film that could be considered a major studio release was Rob Zombie's horror movie "House of 1,000 Corpses" (2000), which was produced by Universal, and filmed on their backlot, but released by Lion's Gate when Universal chickened out of releasing it.  I happened to have seen many of her obscure movies because I consciously sought them out, but people who were more casual movie-goers were under the false--but understandable--impression that she had stopped working circa 1979.

Even though I was very complimentary of her career longevity in my previous post about her, unfortunately, Karen Black must ultimately take some responsibility for diminishing her own cache as an A-list actress by continuing to accept roles in one B-movie after another, especially during the 1980s and 1990s.  Similar to Stella Stevens, I believe that Black would have had a better career had she not spread herself thin with the sheer multitude of second-rate movies she appeared in.  (In her defense, Black acknowledges some of the bad career choices she made during a particularly candid moment in the 2000 documentary, "Karen Black Actress at Work.")  It's a shame that it took her death to make it apparent that Karen Black still had a significant following--a fervently loyal audience--who would have welcomed seeing her appear in higher-profile productions.  She deserved to be as revered on a wide-spread basis as her 1970s counterparts Ellen Burstyn or Diane Keaton.

Even though one would have liked to have seen her retain her A-list status, it's possible that Karen Black made herself too obscure for people to easily appreciate at times.  As much as I respected and enjoyed her work, the lady herself had a tendency to present herself in a rambling, oblique, roundabout manner that some people may have found off-putting.  In a very illuminating interview on YouTube from 1986, where she is interviewed by Charlie Rose in order to promote her new movie "Invaders from Mars" (1986), Black comes across as prickly, incoherent, self-aggrandizing and self-involved--although charmingly so.  At one point, she's caught on camera distractedly fiddling with her fingernails.  Despite her idiosyncracies, Karen Black ultimately proved to be as unique and engaging an individual off-screen as she was an actress on-screen.  She didn't have a flat personality off-screen the way the aforementioned Ellen Burstyn often comes across in interviews, and she didn't come across as whiny as Diane Keaton could in her interviews.  At one point, she brashly tells Charlie Rose "I'm terribly good with the English language...my verbal I.Q. is genius and when I went to college I didn't have to take English at all.  Anyway, so I've been writing.  And it's probably very silly that I hadn't been writing for so many years given that kind of potential--my mother's a writer--but anyhow I have a friend, Paul Williams, who's a Harvard summa person...summa, did I say that right?  Thank you.  And he noticed that I was very literate and he said 'Well you've got to write, you've got to write, you've got to write.'  And thanks to him I wrote a screenplay, finally, called 'Deep Purple' when I was terr--...it's very interesting when you have a good sense of the language and you know and all that.  Plus you're an actor and you get SO involved in writing that when something goes wrong with these characters you, I mean the secretary came in, thought someone in the family had died.  It's just consuming."

While watching the interview, you sense that, within minutes, Charlie Rose has gone from being a respectful fan to someone who is impatiently trying to take control of the discussion again.  When Rose announces that he has to go to a commercial break--in the middle of Black's anecdote that the screenplay she wrote was accepted at Sundance--she attempts to save face by defensively responding "Oops, you're going now?  What a time to leave me."  She pouts, sits back in her chair, leaning her head against her upraised hand and petulantly says "Bye."  In so doing, Karen Black makes it quite clear that she was an individual who always operated on her own unique wavelength.  Which, of course, added to our fascination of her as a person as well as an actress.

My current opinion about Karen Black is shaped by an anecdote that an actress friend of mine recently shared with me about being at a dinner party with her 10 years ago that was filled with other actors and industry people.  This actress friend has enjoyed a long and prolific career for the last 35 years in films, television and theater.  She had a hit TV series for several years in the 1980s and continues to work in independent movies.  My friend recalled how Karen Black looked across the table and said to her "You're very pretty.  What do you do for a living?"  My friend responded by saying "Well, I'm an actress," to which Black said, "Oh, it must be so difficult for new people like you to get started in the business" and then proceeded to lecture her on the importance of getting proper training as an actress in order to develop her craft and tried to "mentor" her throughout the dinner.  My friend, her husband, and many of the others at the table were surprised that Karen Black automatically presumed she was a neophyte--instead of regarding her as a peer even if she wasn't immediately familiar with her career--and no one at the table had the heart to correct her.  Ultimately, my friend said that Karen Black was very kind and well-meaning and she took it as a compliment that Black thought she was in her 20s or 30s when she was actually in her late 40s when this incident took place.

Nevertheless, this anecdote helped solidify my impression of Karen Black as someone who saw herself as the foremost expert on filmmaking and acting, as opposed to simply viewing herself as just one out of many accomplished and experienced actresses with a knowledgeable perspective about her craft.  In her defense, however, Karen Black would not be the first actor or actress who saw themselves as some sort of acting and filmmaking guru.  The industry is filled with admittedly accomplished individuals who have a subjective view of their stature.  However, in her defense, I believe that some of the latter-day attention she received at film tributes held at places like the Castro Theater, or other venues where she was exalted by adoring fans as a larger-than-life icon, may have gone to her head and contributed to her less-than-humble belief in her own importance, and may also explain why she was rarely held accountable to give coherent interviews when discussing her craft.  It stands to reason that, if an individual is told all of the time how wonderful they are, they are eventually going to believe it about themselves. 

As eccentric as Karen Black may have appeared to be at times, she still did not deserve to be ridiculed by the president of a marketing and communications firm in a presentation he made at a marketing convention held in Washington, DC on June 5th, 2013.  By this time, news of her battle with cancer had already been in the media since March after Black and her husband asked the public for help in funding experimental cancer treatments in Europe.  In this marketing presentation, which used to be available on YouTube but has since been taken down as of Friday morning after news of Karen Black's death was announced in the media, the president of the marketing firm compared the career accomplishments of Karen Black and Betty White in order to demonstrate how he felt organizations should learn how to "brand" themselves.  The title of this presentation was called "Association Branding--Are you Karen Black or Betty White?  (Exactly, who's Karen Black?)," and attempted to make the case that Betty White had created a stronger "brand" name for herself, compared to Karen Black, and that this was supposed to explain the differences in the levels of success between both actresses.  In the presentation, White was depicted respectfully, while Black was portrayed in a derisive manner by the president of the marketing firm (who seemed to be trying to emulate the smug, snarky, and self-satisfied tone of David Letterman in his comedy skits).

While I acknowledge that Karen Black made some mistakes that caused her to slip from being in the A-list, she still had a long and prolific career that most actresses would envy.  The subtitle of the presentation, "(Exactly, who's Karen Black?)" further underscored its mean-spirited and myopic nature.  The sheer number of fans from all across the world who left comments on all of her obituaries regarding how much they cared about her--not to mention the fans who helped her raise over $60,000 on the internet for her cancer treatment--demonstrates the fallacy of the logic behind the subtitle.  It was just bizarre to see Betty White and Karen Black--two actresses who have little, if anything, in common--being compared with one another so extensively.  Now that we know that Karen Black had only two months left to live at the time this presentation was made, it was thoughtless and cruel to be casting aspersions on her career accomplishments.  When this presentation was still on YouTube, it was distasteful to see these people making a mockery of Karen Black while she was sick in the hospital battling a cancer that, according to her husband, had "eaten away part of a vertebra and nerves in her lower back...Her left leg stopped functioning."  It was particularly careless for the president of this marketing firm--and for the marketing and communications organization hosting this convention--to allow this presentation to be made when simply Googling her name would have allowed them to realize that Karen Black was in the midst of battling cancer.  If they are reading this, I sincerely hope that all of the people involved with making this shameful presentation--the president of the marketing company, the personnel who helped prepare it, the marketing organization who permitted it, and the audience who snickered derisively at Karen Black's expense--are all deeply ashamed of themselves, but that's probably expecting too much of them.

One continuing theme throughout Karen Black's career was her perseverance and determination despite all of the challenges and hardships that came her way.  She never seemed to let the occasional direction her career was headed affect her view of herself--which may explain her headstrong belief in her own stature and importance--and this self-confidence is what makes the prolificacy of her career ultimately an impressive and inspiring achievement.  Like Bette Davis--another idiosyncratic actress who defied all the odds in Hollywood--Karen Black continued giving A-list performances even in less than impressive circumstances, which is why her iconic performance as flight attendant Nancy Pryor in "Airport 1975" is such a perfect metaphor for Black's career.  Even under treacherous circumstances, Black always managed to take control of a damaged career and find the strength and resolve to fly it to safety and ensure long-term survival.  In an industry that values image and frivolity over genuine accomplishment, Black is a classic example of an old-fashioned professional with a solid work ethic.  With fewer and fewer of her type left, we are eventually getting to the point where there truly is "no one left to fly the plane" in show business. 

I Don't Worry About Barbara Harris' Albuquerque in "Nashville"

 
Whenever critics and film buffs get into discussions of the top actors and actresses working in films throughout the 1960s and 1970s, one person who doesn't get mentioned enough is Barbara Harris.  An attractive, pixie-ish blonde who started out on Broadway (she won a Tony for the musical "The Apple Tree" in 1967), Harris had an impressive run of movies from the mid-1960s, starting with her debut in "A Thousand Clowns" (1965), and extending into the late-1970s.  She was unique in that she can't quite be regarded a "Broadway" actress because she stopped working in that venue by the late-1960s, and didn't exactly become known as an actress who worked exclusively in films from that point on because her appearances on-screen were occasional and sporadic.  She didn't even utilize television as her "bread and butter" medium with numerous episodic TV guest appearances to her name the way other stage-oriented actors from New York have been known to do in order to make a quick buck.  However, when she did work in the movies, Barbara Harris' performances were usually effervescent and impressive.

Barbara Harris was a marvelously detailed and expressive actress who understood just how far to take her characters on-screen without overacting as if she was projecting to the last seat in the theater.  She was a warm and endearing presence on-screen who always made her quirky characters human, decent, and understandable.  She brought out unconventional nuances in her characters that were never self-indulgent or inappropriate, but that always seemed perfectly integrated with her roles.  Her pickiness in choosing her movies meant that we would have a limited number of films to savor her in, but it also ensured that we would never get tired of watching her from overexposure like we do with other actresses who don't know how to select their roles carefully.  I think the high point in her career came in 1975 when she starred in one of the films that she is most closely associated with in her career, Robert Altman's "Nashville" (1975).

In "Nashville," Harris played probably the most hopeful and optimistic of all the 24 characters in that film, the wayward Winifred, wife of irascible farmer Star (Bert Remsen) who abandons her husband in the middle of a freeway pile-up driving into the city of Nashville and pursues her dreams of becoming a country music star.  When she ditches her husband, she rechristens herself "Albuquerque" and begins to insinuate her way into any opportunity where she can try to make contacts and make an indelible impression upon the people she meets who she hopes will help further her goal.  Unlike practically all the other characters in the movie--who are portrayed as unhappy, pathetic, devious, manipulative, miserable, or delusional--Albuquerque is probably the most optimistic and happiest character in the movie.  She's willing to stick her neck out in any situation so long as it helps her become a country music star.

One of Albuquerque's most endearing moments is when she's caught backstage at the Grand Ole Opry by a security guard asking her to produce her backstage pass.  Even though the security guard has taken her by the arm and won't let go, Albuquerque never loses her cool as she tries to bluff her way out of the situation.  When country music sensation Connie White (Karen Black) suddenly appears, on her way to the stage, Albuquerque attempts to make conversation with the disinterested Connie White in an effort to keep from getting thrown out.  Even as Connie White gives a silent directive to the security guard that indicates "I don't know this person, keep them away from me," Albuquerque continues chattering away, anything to keep the discussion going long enough to ensure her continued presence at the Opry.

The reason I don't consider Harris' Albuquerque to be delusional has to do with the scene early in the movie where she is walking alongside the highway with Kenny Frasier (David Hayward), who asks Albuquerque about her life and what she's doing in Nashville.  Albuquerque explains, "Well, I know it sounds arrogant, but I'm on my way to town, if I ever make it, to become a country-western singer or star."  When Kenny asks what she plans to do if she doesn't make it, Albuquerque responds, "Oh, I could always go into sales...Well, I know all about trucks, so I'd go into trucking, I guess...No, I'm not kiddin' you.  I'm in a truck enough.  And I know how to fix motors and all that."  When Kenny condescendingly remarks that no one would ever buy a truck from a girl, Albuquerque becomes frustrated and annoyed and says, "I been fixin' motors a long time.  They'd buy 'em from me 'cause I know all about motors.  Why do you say that?  See, what's happenin' is, if I can't sell trucks and I can't go..."

In this scene, we get a sense of who Albuquerque is and what she has done with her life prior to running away from her husband.  We learn that she's a mechanically inclined individual who already has a contingency plan in place in case her pursuit of a singing career proves fruitless.  She knows the extent to which the odds are against her and hasn't put all her eggs in one basket.  Her acknowledgement at the start of the scene that her aspirations of fame as a singer "sounds arrogant" demonstrates the extent to which she is a realist, unlike the equally hopeful waitress Sueleen Gay (Gwen Welles) who has no clue how untalented she is and how she is a long shot for ever becoming a successful singer.  Albuquerque simply wants an opportunity to see if she can fulfill her dreams, rather than passively suffering in silence back at the farm she shares with her husband. 

Albuquerque might get frustrated with the condescension of doubters like Kenny and her husband, who chases her throughout Nashville in an effort to try and bring her back home, but she never gives up even when her singing debut at the Nashville speedway is drowned out by the engines of the race cars competing on the track.  In a cast made up of defeatist, downbeat and narcissistic characters, Albuquerque shines bright because of her endearing scrappiness.  We admire her gumption when she sneaks into the political smoker that John Triplette (Michael Murphy) and Delbert Reese (Ned Beatty) are hosting to raise money for Presidential candidate Hal Philip Walker and has stolen a piece of steak, probably from the kitchen, that she eats while holding it in her hand with a napkin, picking pieces from it with a fork.

 
While there, she overhears John Triplette and Delbert promise the gullible Sueleen that she'll have a chance to sing at the political rally that Walker is hosting the next day if she agrees to strip for the audience.  Albuquerque makes sure to attend the rally in order to see if there might also be an opportunity for her to sing as well.  For Albuquerque, nothing is too difficult or intimidating if it helps her achieve her dreams.  She has no sense of entitlement and is willing to sleep in unlocked cars, hitch rides with well-meaning strangers like Tricycle Man (Jeff Goldblum) and Wade Cooley (Robert DoQui) in order to get around Nashville's large metropolitan area, and work hard in order to survive, but she's smart enough not to be manipulated like Sueleen is by unscrupulous predators like Triplette and Delbert, who don't have her best interests at heart.

That's why it's so satisfying at the end when, after Kenny has assassinated country star Barbara Jean (Ronee Blakely) at the political rally for Hal Philip Walker at the Parthenon in Nashville's Centennial Park, Albuquerque takes the microphone from a wounded and dazed Haven Hamilton (Henry Gibson) and begins singing Keith Carradine's pessimistic, yet ironically uplifting, anthem "It Don't Worry Me."  With its lyrics describing unending optimism in the face of fiscal, social, and political strife, "It Don't Worry Me" perfectly reflects Albuquerque's proactive can-do attitude.  Many people have interpreted the ending of "Nashville" as being a cynical, modern-day variation on "42nd Street" (1932) and "A Star is Born" (1937) because of its depiction of a talented unknown being given a chance to shine in the spotlight, but this big break didn't merely happen to Albuquerque by chance.  Unlike the other characters, especially the pathetic Barbara Jean, Albuquerque has no time to wallow in self-pity and has created this opportunity for herself at the end of the movie through a combination of ambition, shrewdness and initiative.  Albuquerque knew how to position herself to be at the right place at the right time.  She's one of the few characters in "Nashville" who doesn't feel sorry for herself, which is why she's also the only one who truly understands what the lyrics of "It Don't Worry Me" really mean.

What I like about the ending is that, even though we realize how Albuquerque actually has genuine musical talent, she isn't portrayed as someone who has a pitch-perfect, crystal-clear voice.  That would have been too unrealistic and undermined the dramatic and emotional credibility of the moment.  As Harris sings "It Don't Worry Me" in a raw, heartfelt manner we realize the extent of Albuquerque's innate ability to get to the essence of a song and inspire an audience to share the experience of it with her.  We sense that Albuquerque's hard work may start to pay off and that she may be on the brink of a promising career as a recording artist.  Keith Carradine's Tom Frank, whose character is the one who originally wrote and recorded "It Don't Worry Me," may have intended the song to be a cynical, defeatist anthem about nihilism, but Albuquerque does the seemingly impossible and turns it into a song about hope and perseverance.  In so doing, she inspires the shocked and traumatized audience, who have just witnessed Barbara Jean's assassination, to calm down and join her in a rousing celebration of optimism and survival.  That's why I consider Barbara Harris' Albuquerque the only person in "Nashville" with their act together, and also the only that no one needs to worry about after the credits have rolled.

The Pros & Cons of Robert Redford's version of "The Great Gatsby" (1974)

With the imminent release of Baz Luhrmann's 3-D version of F. Scott Fitzgerald's prohibition-era drama "The Great Gatsby," it seems appropriate to take another look at what was, up until now, the most famous movie version of the book, 1974's "The Great Gatsby" starring Robert Redford and Mia Farrow.  I saw the movie in my high school English class when we read the novel and distinctly remember how the class laughed throughout the film.  Because the movie slavishly recreated the novel without any appropriate sense of perspective or interpretation, the scenes Fitzgerald had created in his book came across to everyone in my class as campy and mannered.  The odd thing was, the movie seemed campy, but it lacked any heart or passion to it.  Director Jack Clayton created a visually beautiful film, but its beauty is undermined by a cold detachment that never allows you to become fully engaged with its potentially rich characters and situations.  I think that's the reason why the movie seemed campy and laughable to our class--we never grew to care about the characters the way we are supposed to and, as a result, we are left with little else but to chuckle at the seemingly strange actions and declarations by the characters because the movie never quite captures the subtle nuances that enriched the novel.  (For instance, the movie excludes the character of "Owl Eyes," the bespectacled party-goer at Gatsby's house impressed by the books in the library who, touchingly, proves his friendship to Gatsby by attending his funeral.  The character is nowhere to be found during the movie and his absence is particularly felt during the funeral scene.)  It's the perfect example of a Cliff's Notes movie version of a classic novel--hitting all the key plot points of a novel without ever fully capturing its essence.

I think the casting of the film is at the heart of the problems with this version of "The Great Gatsby."  Robert Redford is dashing and handsome as Gatsby, demonstrating his charm and charisma, but he seems too refined to convince us that he came from the poor, working class background that he was supposed to have come from.  Gatsby is supposed to be a self-made man who puts on a good act of being a sophisticated host, but whose rough, modest edges can still be discerned by perceptive eyes.  Redford comes across as someone who was to the manner born, from the same aristocratic world as Tom and Daisy, and never fully convinces us that there was a level of struggle and desperation to get where he is.  Moreover, there is never that air of mystery attached to Redford's performance that people continually attribute to Gatsby's character.  You never sense what it is about Gatsby that makes Nick Carraway (Sam Waterston) so intrigued with his neighbor as to tail him throughout the novel.  Redford looks good, as ever, but plays Gatsby with an air of detachment that never truly brings the character to life.  Even though Redford's acting is perfectly competent in "The Great Gatsby," I think James Caan, Steve McQueen, Warren Beatty, or Jack Nicholson would have been more interesting in the role.

Similarly, Mia Farrow is also miscast as Gatsby's object of unrequited love, Daisy.  I like Mia Farrow and respect her work as an actress with an offbeat, otherworldly quality exemplified by her fine work in Roman Polanski's "Rosemary's Baby" (1968).  But Daisy should have been a character filled with charm, good-humor, and thoughtless narcissism for Gatsby to have pined away for her all these years.  Farrow instills Daisy with a nervous, neurotic hysteria that makes us wonder what Gatsby ever saw in her.  The scene when Farrow hysterically cries out in panic when she sees George Wilson (Scott Wilson) arrive at her house to question her husband about who drove the car that hit his wife epitomizes why she was all wrong for this role.  It gives Daisy a sense of uncertainty that is at odds with the rest of her character.  I always felt that Daisy was so blithe to causing Myrtle's death, and secure in Gatsby's promise that he would take the blame for it, that she would never lose her cool like that.  Tuesday Weld, who I understand it was on the short list of candidates to play the role, would have been the perfect Daisy for Gatsby to have been obsessed about through the years.  Weld was always perfect at playing charmingly malevolent characters, too wrapped up in self-absorption to care about anyone but themselves.  She had already perfected this type of character years earlier playing Thalia Menninger on "The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis" (1959-60) TV series during its first season.  In that series, Dobie (Dwayne Hickman) spends every waking hour thinking of ways to become rich and successful to win Thalia's heart, only to have Thalia continually set the goal higher and higher for him to reach.  And, yet, we always understood why Dobie would break his back to please Thalia.  Her charm continually outweighed whatever drawbacks that straining to please her would entail.  We needed somebody like that playing Daisy to make us understand the nature of Gatsby's obsession for her.

1970s icons Bruce Dern and Karen Black are also awkwardly cast as Tom Buchanan and Myrtle Wilson.  In contrast to Redford, who seems too refined to play Gatsby, Bruce Dern never seems refined and aristocratic enough to play Tom.  You wonder why the status-conscious Daisy would think that marrying Dern's Tom was more socially acceptable than marrying Redford's handsome and charismatic, if poor, Gatsby.  Tom is supposed to be an arrogant, racist who graduated from Yale, yet Dern makes him look like an alum from the local junior college.  The casting of Tom also suffers from virtue of the fact that Dern can't help but come off creepy and psychotic in almost every role he plays.  When George Wilson shows up at Tom's house at the end of the film to find out who owned the car that ran down his wife, Myrtle, Dern has such a brutal quality about himself that you wonder why Tom didn't just beat George up and kick him out of his house without having to implicate Gatsby in his wife's death.

The less said about Karen Black's Myrtle Wilson, the better.  Myrtle is supposed to be a character desperate to escape her stifling existence with her husband George at his modest service station.  When I read the book, I found her sympathetic and tragic and felt sorry for her and her husband.  In Karen Black's hands, Myrtle comes across as simply vulgar and pathetic.  The scene early in the film at the small party Tom and Myrtle throw in their apartment in which they rendezvous where Myrtle shares with Nick her memories of how she met Tom should have been poignant, because it expresses Myrtle's hopes and dreams, but Black comes across so swarthy and sweaty in the scene that Myrtle seems self-indulgent and delusional.  Later in the film, when George has Myrtle locked upstairs at the service station, while Tom is filling up his car with gasoline, Myrtle smashes her hand through the window to try and alert Tom to her confinement.  This is a scene that was not in the book and was clearly created for the movie.  What does Black do, with Myrtle's hands and finger bleeding from putting them through the window?  She shoves it in her mouth and sucks on it.  Whoever thought that was a good idea for a scene should have had their heads examined.

Which leaves us with the two actors in "The Great Gatsby" who I think were well-cast in their roles.  As I have blogged about before, Lois Chiles has the right air of cool detachment and self-possession in the role of pro-golfer Jordan Baker.  Chiles brings an assured, low-key quality to Jordan that makes her the most interesting and appealing woman in the story.  Unlike Farrow or Black's misinterpretation of their respective roles, which are so shrill and overt that you never wonder what's going on inside of them because it's all spelled out for you, Chiles makes Jordan charming, mysterious, and even sympathetic.  By design, she's a shallow character, but Chiles plays Jordan as if she's aware of these shortcomings and has simply chosen not to do anything to improve herself.  Even though she associates with Tom and Daisy, she's not as cruel or thoughtless as either of them and I always sensed that the attraction of Chiles' Jordan to Waterston's Nick was genuine.  In this interpretation of the story, I always got the feeling that Jordan was drawn to Nick's inherent decency because it contrasted with her own selfish shortcomings as well as the shortcomings of the people she typically associated with.  Chiles and Waterston have a natural chemistry in the movie that makes it a shame they have not worked together again.  Chiles' Jordan is such a good sport that she isn't even offended when Nick breaks up with her at the end of the movie because of her continued association with Tom and Daisy, and the fact that she's too much like them for him to ever fully be in love with her.  I always felt that, in that scene, Jordan accepts Nick's judgement of her without any resentment or disappointment because she ultimately knows he's right.

Similarly, Waterston does a fine job with Nick Carraway, bringing depth to what could have been a difficult role.  Nick is the narrator of the story and the characters that the audience identifies most with in the novel.  Waterston brings the right quality of naivete, sense of awe, and compassion to Nick that the character never becomes a mere storytelling device.  He brings a clean-cut quality to Nick that demonstrates the purity of his soul.  Waterston's Nick has an essential decency about him that allows the audience to continue to be engaged in the story even as we realize that almost everyone around him are awful people.  More importantly, Waterston effectively projects the quietly mounting air of disgust that Nick feels for his cousin Daisy and her husband Tom.  We see how Nick has gone from being impressed by the opulence and splendor of the people around him to being disillusioned and disgusted by their moral corruption looming underneath the pristine surface.  I also like the subtle ways that Waterston plays Nick as someone who was subconsciously attracted to Gatsby and, as such, bestows upon Gatsby the kind of caring, reverence and respect that his cousin Daisy did not.  When Nick and Gatsby's father, Mr. Gatz (Roberts Blossom), are riding out at the end of the film to attend Gatsby's funeral and Gatsby's father asks Nick if he was friends with his son, Waterston projects a telling air of sadness when he tells the father "We were close friends" that suggests his feelings for Gatsby ran deeper than he is willing to admit to himself.  I'm not suggesting that Nick, or Waterston's interpretation of him, was meant to suggest, as some reviewers have indicated, that he was gay, because I think Nick was genuinely attracted to, and enamored of, Jordan.  But I think a conservative reading of the character suggests that the character was probably, at the very least, bisexual and that he was drawn to both Jordan and Gatsby--Jordan for her self-confidence and independence, and Gatsby for his romantic sense of longing.  I think Nick admired Jordan and wanted to be as confident as she was, and I also believe he was touched by how deeply Gatsby remained in love with Daisy all these years that he eventually grew to care about him as a result.  Waterston's performance provides subtle hints that lend support, but doesn't conclusively prove, such interpretations of the character so that Nick remains intriguingly enigmatic as ever.  In fact, in Waterston's skillful hands, Nick becomes a much more interesting character than Redford ever is as Gatsby.

Even though the 1974 version of "The Great Gatsby" remains flawed and uneven, I still like it and find much to appreciate about it.  Like its titular character, it tries hard to please and impress with its lavishness and visual opulence even though, like Gatsby, it is sometimes lacking in substance and purpose.  Despite its flaws in terms of Jack Clayton's direction and the miscasting of many key roles, it still has good performances by Sam Waterston and Lois Chiles, as well as beautiful photography, handsome production design, and stunning locations in Newport, Rhode Island.  The potential was there to make a great film, if only the filmmakers had not compromised by emphasizing style over substance in some essential choices they made.  Nevertheless, its story of unrequited love, empty emotions and thoughtless materialism still has relevance and impact today.  It's a flawed film, but one that is tough to dislike in spite of its missed potential because it has its heart in the right place.  Even though some of the actors and performances are wrong, when I watch it now, I still care about the characters and feel sadness for Gatsby that his dream of happiness with Daisy remains an unfulfilled illusion, and disgusted with Daisy at how her narcissism has thoughtlessly destroyed the lives of the people around her.  F. Scott Fitzgerald's original characters still have power and impact in the 1974 version of "The Great Gatsby" even when they're interpreted incorrectly.  It will be interesting to see how Baz Luhrmann's new 3-D version stacks up against the 1974 version in the long run. 

The Voluptuous Beauty of Karen Black

Karen Black's 1986 ad that appeared in "Variety" touting the four films she had made that year

I found this interview on YouTube where Karen Black appears to be at some sort of motion picture-oriented trade show in Las Vegas, c. 1990, and is being interviewed by a local TV station.  The guy interviewing her has a sincere, likeable quality and gets a warm, relaxed interview out of Black.  She discusses a movie she just finished called "Tuesday Never Comes," which you can find here on YouTube.  I've seen it and, unfortunately, despite Ms. Black's professionalism and complete commitment to the part, it's terrible.  But when Black discusses it, compliments the film and the director, and gives indication that she's pleased with her role (as a drug addicted singer connected to the mob who gets raped and ultimately killed) she comes across as so genuine and sincere, you ultimately believe that she believes in the movie.  It reminds me of a wonderful documentary about Karen Black made in the late 1990s called "Karen Black: Actress at Work."

In the documentary, Black is depicted in the course of about a year working continuously in one low-budget movie after another.  She approaches each production, which are all far cries from the quality of films she was working on in her 1970s heyday, with the same level of enthusiasm as if she were still working with Robert Altman, Alfred Hitchcock, and Jack Nicholson.  There is never a "This is not good enough for me" attitude that you sometimes get with other actresses.  At the same time, in the documentary, you never get the feeling that Black has deluded herself into believing that these films are of a higher quality than what they are.  The beauty of the documentary and, ultimately, of Karen Black, is that she proves herself to be the consummate professional.  It's clear that she enjoys acting and doesn't denigrate the material she has been given, even if it is obvious that she deserves much better than what she is getting.

Karen Black as country singer Connie White in Robert Altman's "Nashville" (1975)

In the 1980s, Black's career went in an unexpected direction.  After making some of the finest American films in the 1970s, Black found herself in a position where she was cast in many low-budget films that frequently went straight-to-video.  There were dozens and dozens of these movies.  I saw as many of them as I could because I was fascinated at her unwavering professionalism under challenging circumstances.  She appeared in action films such as 1987's "Hostage"; a period comedy drama set after WWII co-starring Hoyt Axton and Tina Louise called "Dixie Lanes" (1988); a TV miniseries for Italian television about the life of Ernest Hemingway; a couple of silly comedies such as "Club Fed" (1990) with Judy Landers and the self-explanatory "The Invisible Kid" (1988), and several horror films (too numerous to list here).  As someone who greatly admired Black's career, I liked how she never stopped working in films.  Nevertheless, I still hoped that she would be able to bounce back and return to the quality of work she once enjoyed.

Black sings her own composition "I Don't Know if I Found it in You" in "Nashville" (1975)

In the mid-1990s, Black's career took a significant turn for the better.  She started working with young, ambitious filmmakers who admired her 1970s filmwork and wanted to have her contribute in a substantial manner to their debut features.  Even though the films were still low-budget, the roles she was offered improved because she was again working with directors who had vision and ambition.  Many of these movies mainly played at film festivals or on cable and art-house venues, but at least she no longer had to do films with titles like "Auntie Lee's Meat Pies" (1993) to make a living.  She was ultimately rewarded with a wonderful dual role in "Firecracker" (2005), a noir-ish drama about the troubled denizens of a small Kansas town, which was probably her best role since working with Robert Altman in "Come Back to the 5 and Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean."  It was heartening to see her play a great role in a great film again.

Despite its ups and downs, I think Karen Black has had one of the most rewarding film careers in the history of cinema.  Even during that period in the 1980s when she was being cast in exploitation fare, the variety and kinds of roles she was being offered were still the sorts of parts that would only be offered to a talented actress.  In the South African action film, "Hostage," Black played a soft-core porn actress who is on an airline flight hijacked by terrorists.  She befriends the ill little boy on the flight and even agrees to sleep with one of the terrorists in exchange for the boy's freedom.  Black later has a nicely-written and beautifully acted monologue where she explains to the little boy's mother that she once acted as a surrogate mother for her childless sister and her husband so that they could have a baby of their own.  She was grieving over the fact that her sister, brother-in-law, and the boy that she gave birth to had recently died, and this motivated her decision to help the sick child on the flight as a way to make amends for the son she never got to know.  It's a scene that could have been maudlin, but Black evoked real feeling and depth in order to make you believe in this character.  Black's talent and professionalism in this instance confirms that there are no small parts, just small actors.