Showing posts with label Patricia Neal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Patricia Neal. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

The Day the Earth Stood Still



I'm not a devotee of science fiction, in either print or film.

There are certain offshoots of the genre that I do find appealing, but they are more mainstream, I suppose, combining elements of drama or comedy or whatever — and I've never been like one of those guys I knew in high school who had bookshelves filled with obscure science fiction titles and spoke to each other in Klingon.

I don't know why science fiction never really appealed to me. I've always liked good fiction. Maybe it was the science part that turned me off. (Science was never my strong subject in school.)

Science fiction, though, has often meant space exploration in my experience, and I was a child during the most intense years of the space race so you might think, therefore, that I would have more than a passing interest in it. And, to be honest, there are some films that are designated as science fiction movies that I appreciate and always enjoy watching.

One of those movies is "The Day the Earth Stood Still," which made its debut on this date 60 years ago.

In 1951, science fiction as a movie art form was still in its nascent phase. Prior to that time, the science fiction that most audiences saw in the theaters was in the form of the serials of the time or horror movies.

"The Day the Earth Stood Still" was one of the earliest movies to introduce space travel and alien beings — and special effects — to the big screen and helped to usher in what was arguably the golden age of science fiction movies. "Forbidden Planet," which came along a few years later, is often mentioned by film historians as the movie that launched the science fiction genre, but I believe, as I wrote in the spring, that it more accurately marks the maturation of it.

While "The Day the Earth Stood Still" is rightly remembered as a science fiction movie, it was really a drama in the finest tradition of that genre — and just happened to use space travel as its backdrop. It was intended, as I understand it, as something of a metaphor for the Cold War and how it was changing the way people thought about themselves and each other.

There were messianic themes evoked by the resurrection of the visitor from space (similar themes, I might add, were part of the "Star Wars" trilogies). There were the elements of fear, hatred and suspicion that became common during the four–decade Cold War, which was still a new development in 1951.

Academy Award–winning composer Bernard Herrmann wrote a haunting score for the film.

I won't dwell too much on the story because, if you have never seen it, you should. It is worth seeing, even after 60 years.

Patricia Neal is probably the best–known star in the cast — although Andy Griffith Show fans will recognize Aunt Bee (Frances Bavier) in a supporting role, and folks who are fond of movie trivia may be intrigued to know that Spencer Tracy and Claude Rains were each considered for the role of Klaatu, the visitor from space.

Eventually, Klaatu was payed by Michael Rennie, an English actor.

And, then, there was Gort, the tall robot, who was played by a fellow named Lock Martin. What's that, you say? You never heard of Lock Martin?

No reason why you should have, actually. The 7½–foot Martin worked as doorman at Grauman's Chinese Theatre when he was chosen to play the robot. That was when it was still said that movie stars could be "discovered" sitting on drug–store stools and in other unlikely places.

When you're 7½ feet tall, though, it's hard to imagine how you could be overlooked.

Anyway, Martin had something of a modest acting career in the years after he played Gort. He was known as "The Gentle Giant" because (1) he apparently did not possess the physical strength to match his imposing height, and (2) he liked reading stories to children (which, apparently, he did professionally for awhile on a TV show in Los Angeles).

Of course, there was the iconic phrase — "Klaatu barada nikto" — that Rennie's character told Neal to utter to the robot if anything happened to him, which she did — and, in the process, supposedly prevented him from destroying the earth in retaliation.

No one ever translated it from the fictitious space language from which it sprang so no one really knows what it meant.

What do you think it meant?

Monday, August 09, 2010

Patricia Neal Dies



Over at my Freedom Writing blog, I have been writing in recent days about the death last week of a good friend and ex–classmate, Phyllis.

She was a lover of movies — and, in the latter years of her life, she was afflicted by colon cancer so I guess she had a highly developed appreciation for people who overcome personal suffering. In both respects, Patricia Neal fit the bill.

Neal, who died yesterday of lung cancer at the age of 84, had a somewhat meteoric rise in films, exploding on to the Broadway scene at the age of 20 and then appearing in her first film at the age of 23. During the next 15 years, she appeared in nearly two dozen motion pictures, among them "The Day the Earth Stood Still," "Breakfast at Tiffany's" and "Hud." She also did some TV work, including a 1964 episode of "The Outer Limits."

For her work in "Hud," Neal was rewarded with an Oscar for Best Actress. She was also honored with awards from the British Academy of Film and Television Arts, the National Board of Review and the New York Film Critics Circle. She was in her late 30s and the sky seemed to be the limit for her.

But it seemed that no sooner had Neal received all this recognition than her life seemed to collapse around her. She suffered a series of strokes that left her in a coma for three weeks. Then, in spite of semi–paralysis, limited vision and a severe speech impairment, she learned to walk and speak again, resuming her career a few years later with an Academy Award–nominated performance in "The Subject Was Roses."

Whereas her earlier roles had involved something of a Garboesque sex symbol quality, Neal seemed to realize that she had entered an entirely different phase of her career, and she took on new kinds of roles in different kinds of projects. One such project, TV's "The Homecoming," which served as the basis for the popular 1970s TV series, The Waltons, earned her recognition that was similar to what she received for her big screen work.

I often wondered why Neal did not continue her role on The Waltons, then I learned that the creators of the series were concerned that her health wouldn't permit her to make a commitment to a weekly series. So actress Michael Learned, who was some 13 years younger than Neal (and had never, as far as I know, suffered a stroke), was chosen to play the role of Olivia Walton in a series that ran for nine years.

But Neal, who was in her 40s when she made "The Homecoming," might have been capable after all. I don't think she was ever nominated for anything she ever did on TV or the big screen after that, but she did many things in the next four decades, though, including appearing in a musical drama with Billy Ray Cyrus and Heather Locklear last year, and proved that people could overcome afflictions after her recovery from her strokes, inspiring many who might otherwise have given in to their limitations and their personal depression.

Phyllis and I often discussed movies and movie stars, but we never, as I recall, discussed Patricia Neal. I wish we had, but I think I knew her well enough to say that she would have spoken of Neal with a lot of admiration.