Showing posts with label Sally Field. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sally Field. Show all posts

Sunday, July 06, 2014

Through the Eyes of Forrest Gump



"I don't know if Momma was right or if it's Lieutenant Dan. I don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all just floating around accidental–like on a breeze, but I think maybe it's both. Maybe both is happening at the same time."

Forrest Gump (Tom Hanks)

I didn't go to see Robert Zemeckis' "Forrest Gump" when it was showing at the theaters. In fact, I don't think its debut, 20 years ago today, made much of a ripple in my personal radar.

That isn't surprising, I guess. I only vaguely remembered the book upon which it was based.

I still remember the tagline of the movie: "The world will never be the same once you've seen it through the eyes of Forrest Gump." When I finally got around to seeing it, I had to admit that was true.

But, although I really enjoyed the movie, when I think of "Forrest Gump," I am reminded of grim periods in my life.

I was teaching journalism at the University of Oklahoma, which included teaching a writing lab, and one day in the fall of 1994, I got into a discussion with my writing lab students about "Forrest Gump," which had turned into a box–office blockbuster.

I remarked that I thought I was the only person left who had not seen it, and one of my students, Jason, said that he had not seen it, either. Jason wasn't the best writer I ever had in one of my classes, but he was a hard worker, and that means something to me. I have known several people who succeeded at what they did — not because they were the best at it but because they gave the most effort. I thought Jason was one of those people.

I don't know if Jason ever saw "Forrest Gump." Jason lived in one of the frathouses on the OU campus, and, near the end of that semester, he and his frathouse brothers participated in an end–of–the–semester ritual that involved shaking a flagpole outside the house. They had been doing this for years, perhaps decades, without incident, but, on this particular occasion, the flagpole snapped and fell on Jason, crushing his skull.

He was rushed to the hospital, where he was kept alive for a few hours, but he died the next day.

About five months later, my mother and father were having dinner with friends on a Friday night when what is known as a supercell storm came through the Dallas–Fort Worth area, dumping a lot of water in an area that was already saturated from unusually heavy spring rains. There was no place for the water to go, creating a flash flood situation.

On their way home from dinner, my parents' car stalled in the rapidly rising water, and they got out to look for higher ground. Mom was swept away in the flood waters and drowned. Dad was pinned between the guardrail and the car, which probably saved his life but left him with a pinched nerve in his left arm. Dad is left–handed, and his injury left him without the use of his dominant arm — until his physical therapist was able to restore much of it.

That summer, I stayed with Dad and helped him do the things he really wasn't capable of doing for himself — like cooking his meals, doing his laundry, even helping him dress. We watched a lot of movies on video tape that summer, one of which was "Forrest Gump." Turned out Dad had not seen it, either, which made me wonder if Mom ever did. They almost always went to movies together.

I really enjoyed the movie. I'm a history buff — as regular readers of my blogs no doubt know — so I enjoyed the way that Forrest wound up being in the vicinity of — if not directly involved in — most of the significant events in American history in the latter 20th century.

I particularly enjoyed the scene in which he was a guest at the Watergate Hotel and called security to complain about the flashlights shining in a suite of offices across from his room. The lights were keeping him awake. Of course, the flashlights belonged to the burglars in the offices of the Democratic National Committee, and the very next thing that was shown was the familiar tape of Richard Nixon announcing his resignation two years later.

(As a history buff, I appreciated one of the little touches in that scene. When Forrest called security, the person on the other end identified himself as Frank Wills. That was the real name of the security guard who discovered the Watergate break–in.)

According to Forrest Gump's account, he had been a pretty influential fellow, sometimes deliberately, usually unintentionally. He met presidents, he was on hand for major historic events, like George Wallace's famed stand in the schoolhouse door (while Gump was a student at the University of Alabama), and he delivered what came to be known as Gumpisms, pearls of wisdom expressed as only Gump could.

Every time I watch it, I ask myself, Could anyone other than Tom Hanks have played Forrest nearly as well? It's hard to imagine, but the role might have been played by John Travolta or Bill Murray. Would either have been better? I don't know, but I do know it would have been much different.

Gump, of course, was regarded as slow. Early in the movie, his mother (Sally Field) was told that her son was "different" and would need special schooling, but she didn't accept that. "You have to do the best with what God gave you," she told him.

Of course, you can't mention "Forrest Gump" without mentioning "My momma always said life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." The American Film Institute rated it the #40 movie quote of all time.

Forrest always sought to please his mother so he didn't focus on the negative. Most of the time, he focused on the positive, even when he was in pain. Even when it made no sense.

"Mama always said dying was a part of life," he said. "I sure wish it wasn't."

Initially, I guess that was my favorite Gumpism, which isn't surprising, given what I had been through in the weeks and months before I finally saw "Forrest Gump."

But, after repeated viewings of the movie, I decided that my favorite Gumpism came when Forrest and Jenny (Robin Wright) were walking together and came upon the house where she had been abused as a child. She started throwing rock after rock at the house, some bouncing off the wall, others shattering the glass in the windows, before she collapsed in a heap on the ground.

"Sometimes," Gump the narrator said, "there aren't enough rocks."

"Forrest Gump" introduced me to two actors I didn't recall seeing before.

One was Gary Sinise (Lieutenant Dan), who had been in movies for nearly 10 years when "Forest Gump" made its debut. I had seen some of his movies, but I had no memory of seeing him in them. He made quite an impression on me in "Forrest Gump," though, and I followed his career closely in the years that followed.

Lieutenant Dan was one of those guys who came from a long line of soldiers who gave their lives in service to the nation. Forrest saved his life during a battle, and Dan resented it, believing that Forrest deprived him of the glorious combat death his ancestors had.

Back stateside, Dan, who lost both of his legs, encountered Gump and demanded to know what people were always asking him. "Have you found Jesus yet?" he asked.

"I didn't know I was supposed to be looking for him," Gump replied.

As Forrest later observed, Lieutenant Dan "made his peace with God" — and he made his peace with Forrest, too. By the end of the movie, they were close friends.

The other actor was Haley Joel Osment.

"Forrest Gump" was only his second movie, but he did a good job as Forrest Jr. The next few years saw him appearing mostly on TV shows, but, in 1999, he was in one of the best supernatural flicks ever made — "The Sixth Sense."

Few careers have begun so well.

"Forrest Gump" won six of 13 Oscars for which it was nominated, including Best Picture, Best Director (Zemeckis) and Best Actor (Hanks).

Sunday, March 02, 2014

It Goes Like It Goes



"Bless the child of the workin' man
She knows too soon who she is
And bless the hands of a workin' man
He knows his soul is his."


David Shire and Norman Gimbel
"It Goes Like It Goes"

Everyone knows that iconic scene when Sally Field (as Norma Rae) holds up the sign that says "UNION" for everyone in the plant to see — and, one by one, the machines are shut off.

The movie was inspired by a real person, Crystal Lee Sutton, in North Carolina. That scene with the sign really happened, too.

Apparently, the filmmakers felt no need to alter the facts. Well, Sutton's name was different, and so was the name of the union organizer who recruited her.

No question about it. "Norma Rae" was an inspiring story. The American Film Institute ranked it 16th among the inspirational movies and Norma Rae 15th among movies' heroic characters.

It was a career changer for Field. She originally made her name on TV programs, then made mostly lightweight movies during her transition to the big screen (the exception was probably her performance in a made–for–TV production about a woman with multiple personalities).

She might have gone on making endless "Smokey and the Bandit" movies and struggling to shake the yoke of typecasting if not for being cast as Norma Rae. The role established Field as a legitimate dramatic actress — she won the Oscar for Best Actress. She went on to win another Best Actress Oscar five years later, then was nominated for Best Supporting Actress for her role as Mary Lincoln in "Lincoln."

Her work in "Norma Rae" was powerful, made even more powerful, perhaps, because it seemed so unexpected coming from the girl who had been TV's Gidget and the Flying Nun.

But it has often been pointed out to me that truth really is stranger than fiction.

"Forget it! I'm stayin' right where I am. It's gonna take you and the police department and the fire department and the National Guard to get me outta here!"

Norma Rae (Sally Field)

The movie also won an Oscar for Best Song — "It Goes Like It Goes" — which I have long thought was one of the best movie songs to be honored with an Oscar.

It was a fine tribute to those who have fought to improve conditions for America's workers. By and large, I felt good about the casting, too. Ron Leibman, as union organizer Reuben, was the kind of guy I would want on my side in any conflict.

It was hard not to like Reuben. He was nothing if not sincere, especially when it came time to say goodbye to Norma Rae.

"Under the circumstances, best wishes hardly seem enough," he told her. "Thanks are in order. Thank you for your companionship, for your stamina, your horse sense and 101 laughs. I also enjoyed looking at your shining hair and your shining face."

They made a great on–screen team, but I don't think they've been in any other movies together. That's a pity.

Leibman didn't get an Oscar nomination, which was a shame, but perhaps there simply was no other way. It's hard to imagine which nominee he might have replaced in either the very crowded Best Actor field or the nearly as packed Best Supporting Actor field.

I was less impressed with Beau Bridges as Norma Rae's husband, whose most significant on–screen time came when he complained about Norma Rae's absence from the home. While I was less than blown away by Bridges' performance, I have to say that his character showed the all–too–human (albeit frequently less than admirable) trait of jealousy when he assumed that his wife's involvement in the unionizing of her shop was because she was attracted to Reuben.

Perhaps that said everything that really needed to be said about him. It was, after all, during the time that the events that were re–created in the movie actually happened that the real Norma Rae and her husband divorced. Bridges came off as being rather selfish, although that might have been inevitable, given that the movie portrayed Norma Rae as being on a mission. Maybe she was, but it was easy to see where her work on behalf of the union created issues in her home life.

Of course, the story was told mostly from Norma Rae's point of view — hence the title.

And, typically, the story of activism is self–sacrifice.

Even when she died, Sutton's story was one of taking a back seat to others. Because of the deaths of more prominent folks — actor Patrick Swayze and former Carter press secretary Jody Powell — around the same time in September 2009, word of Sutton's death was withheld for a few days.

But her story lives on in "Norma Rae."

Sunday, November 24, 2013

A Secret Identity



Mrs. Doubtfire (Robin Williams): [reading a letter] "Dear Mrs. Doubtfire, two months ago, my mom and dad decided to separate. Now they live in different houses. My brother Andrew says that we aren't to be a family anymore. Is this true? Did I lose my family? Is there anything I can do to get my parents back together? Sincerely, Katie McCormick." Oh, my dear Katie. You know, some parents, when they're angry, they get along much better when they don't live together. They don't fight all the time, and they can become better people, and much better mummies and daddies for you. And sometimes they get back together. And sometimes they don't, dear. And if they don't, don't blame yourself. Just because they don't love each other anymore doesn't mean that they don't love you. There are all sorts of different families, Katie. Some families have one mommy, some families have one daddy, or two families. And some children live with their uncle or aunt. Some live with their grandparents, and some children live with foster parents. And some live in separate homes, in separate neighborhoods, in different areas of the country — and they may not see each other for days, or weeks, months ... even years at a time. But if there's love, dear ... those are the ties that bind, and you'll have a family in your heart forever.

Robin Williams has been a wild man ever since I first became aware of him. He was almost certainly a wild man before that.

The first time I remember seeing him was in the role of Mork — originally as a guest on Happy Days, then in a recurring role on the Mork and Mindy TV show, a Happy Days spinoff. Maybe he did some things before that. I don't know.

But I've seen most of his movies since then, and there's always that kind of frenzy about him. Well, almost always.

The exception, perhaps, was "Mrs. Doubtfire," the movie that was released 20 years ago today. There was still a lot of that hyper dialogue in his performance — some of it must have been the result of a good director (Chris Columbus) simply letting Williams go on one of his improvisational rants. That was, after all, what the moviegoing public paid money to see.

But "Mrs. Doubtfire" was different. Mrs. Doubtfire was a strict but sweet and caring Scottish nanny. In every life there should be a Mrs. Doubtfire.

Thing is, Mrs. Doubtfire was already in the lives of Sally Field and her three children — because Mrs. Doubtfire was really Williams, Field's ex–husband. Williams' character was an affectionate father, but he was not much for discipline nor did he set a particularly good example for his children so he was limited in the time he could spend with them.
Daniel (Robin Willilams): Did you ever wish you could sometimes freeze frame a moment in your day, look at it and say, "This is not my life?"

The only way he could spend more time with them was to assume another identity so he could get the job of housekeeper — and he had to stay in character.

He couldn't be discovered or he would lose the job for sure — and possibly the time he was allowed with his children in his true identity.

That could be pretty challenging, especially when he was with his ex–wife and her new beau (Pierce Brosnan) not as Daniel the ex but as Mrs. Doubtfire.

Of course, there were several narrow escapes before his cover was finally blown, but that was a big part of the movie's charm. Anyway, by then, some really unexpected changes had occurred.

I felt the conclusion of the movie didn't compromise. Williams and Field did not get back together — in a happily–ever–after movie, they would, but not in "Mrs. Doubtfire." Field put a little of her pride on the shelf and allowed Williams to spend more time with his children. It was a good lesson, reinforced by Mrs. Doubtfire's closing monologue (with which I began this post) on love and family and distance, for children from divided families.

When I was growing up, I knew several children whose parents were divorced, and some spent their childhoods hoping their parents would get back together. None ever did. Sometimes they do, as Mrs. Doubtfire said, but quite often, they don't. "Mrs. Doubtfire" always kind of reminded me of "Tootsie."

The stories weren't the same, of course. The lead character in "Tootsie" was not motivated by the desire to spend more time with a family. He cross–dressed because he was an abrasive person who couldn't find work as an actor.

In the process, he learned things that made him a better person.

Something similar happened, I think, to Robin Williams' character in "Mrs. Doubtfire." He learned things that made him a better parent — and led to a different kind of love story.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Truth and Accuracy



"Don't expect the truth unless you're willing to tell it."

Sally Field
Absence of Malice (1981)

I was a journalism student in college when "Absence of Malice," starring Paul Newman and Sally Field, premiered 30 years ago today.

And I felt, when I saw it, that it had some lessons for me that would be useful when I graduated and found myself working in the field.

The problem was that I found the reality was different from the Hollywood story. That should come as no surprise to anyone.

Oh, sure, there are overzealous, overeager reporters like Sally Field's character who will report gossip and hearsay, even when innocent people are likely to be hurt. In an era of instant news and intense pressure to be first with a story, whether it is true or not, there seems to be more of them than ever.

There are unethical prosecutors, like the one who leaked the contents of a file to a reporter, hoping to put pressure on a suspect with no regard for the consequences. I don't think there has ever been a shortage of them, regardless of the era.

And there are people like Newman's character, who was the focus of the prosecutor's investigation and Field's newspaper article.

The case looked good. The story seemed solid. The motivations were, for the most part, noble. The only problem was, he was the wrong guy.

In my experience, that's like the fabled perfect storm. All the elements are not in place at once in every situation. Most prosecutors are ethical, and so are most journalists. Never mind the public images of lawyers and reporters. They're mostly — but not entirely — the products of Hollywood's fantasy world.

But the truth wouldn't make much of a movie so the writers of the story (which included a former newspaper editor) told a tale that, in the words of Field's character, was not true but it was accurate.

If they thought they could get away with it, I'm sure there are some prosecutors who would be tempted (perhaps more than that) to leave files from investigations on their desks where a reporter was sure to find it.

And I'm sure there are reporters who would be tempted (again, perhaps more than that) to look in those files and spill their contents into the next day's papers without regard to whether any of it was true or was affirmed by more than one person.

I don't know what they were teaching students about ethics in law school in those days, nor do I know what was being taught in every journalism class across the country, but I can testify that my journalism classes emphasized double– and triple–checking facts.

One source's word for it simply was not good enough.

We were not so far removed from Watergate in those days, and my professors sang the praises of Woodward and Bernstein, repeatedly urging us to follow their lead (so to speak) and have at least two sources for anything.

And we were encouraged to remember — always — the human side of any story. Comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable was an article (again, so to speak) of faith. Human beings were not collateral damage.

They still aren't, no matter what you may have heard or thought.

In a way, I suppose, that was the lesson Newman's character tried to teach the rest of them in the second half of the movie.

In the article that revealed that Newman was innocent because he had been in another state at the time of the alleged murder, it was also revealed that his alibi and lifelong friend (Melinda Dillon) had been having an abortion. He had been with her, giving her the support she needed, but her character was Catholic, employed by a Catholic school.

Field's character's lack of sensitivity to that fact had tragic consequences. When Field's character identified Dillon's character by name in print, the public exposure was too shameful for her. She killed herself.

Field's character clearly had no malicious intent. She was merely doing her job, but that did not change the reality.

To get even with those he felt were responsible for his friend's suicide, Newman's character hatched a plan to ensnare the newspaper reporter (part of which included a false social relationship with her) and the prosecutor.

When everyone had been exposed, Field's paper began working on its coverage of the story. Another reporter was assigned to write about Field and her relationship with Newman. Field was told that she would be quoted directly and to describe the relationship in any way that she wished.

"Just say we were involved," Field said haltingly.

"That's true, isn't it?" her colleague asked.

"No," Field replied, "but it's accurate."

That, as I say, is how I feel — at least, in hindsight — about "Absence of Malice." The story wasn't true. It wasn't even, as far as I know, a fictionalized account of an actual event.

But it was accurate, and it provided — as it still does — a valuable lesson in ethics — for journalists and everyone else.