This Character Actor Got The Girl - Eli Wallach

"...the quintessential chameleon, effortlessly inhabiting a wide range of characters, while putting his inimitable stamp on every role."
-From The Academy of Motion Picture Arts when he won the Governors' Award in 2010

The first two times I spoke to Eli Wallach were on the phone.

In the 1980s, I had written a screenplay and wanted to attach him for one of the parts. Actors' Equity had a membership department that had contact numbers for its members. Usually, it was a manager or agent. I assumed that would be the case with film legend Eli Wallach.

"Hello?"

Hmm, I know that voice.

"Yes, I'm calling about Eli Wallach."

"That's me. What can I do for you?"

I hadn't prepared for this. After stumbling a little, I said. "I'm sorry. I got this number from Actors' Equity. I didn't mean to bother you at home. I thought....."

"Good. They got the right number. What did you want to know?"

"Well, actually, I was calling about a part in a movie."

"That's great. Tell me a little about it."

I proceeded, in bumbling fashion, to pitch the role to Eli Wallach over the phone. It had never occurred to me that I would actually be talking with him on this call, so I'm not sure how impressive the pitch was. At the end, he said it sounded interesting, and to call his agent about the details.

"Oh," I said. "Yes. Sure. I meant to call your agent to begin with."

That's all right," he said. "I like to always talk to people about the role first, see what it's about. You tell him I said it was okay."

We never did get the funding for that film, so the negotiations didn't get too far. However, years later, when I was line producer on Man of The Century, there was another call. Sorry, but this time re-telling a story I told before>

Anne Jackson, Eli's long-time wife and partner, was in our film, She was getting on in years, and we wanted her to be as comfortable as possible. Most (if not all) of her scenes were at a mansion out on Long Island, with a large spiral staircase. Anne had recently been ill, and, unfortunately, every time we had to do another take, it meant Anne going up and down that staircase in a long period dress from the Turn of the 20th (not 21st) Century.

Worse still was our luck in getting her there. Our regular cast vans had no problem getting there, but we wanted private transport for Anne. This was before everyone had a cell phone and there was no GPS in cars. Still, we carefully mapped out the route, faxed it to a private car service that came highly recommended, and arranged for them to pick her up.

The first day, they got lost with her. Got her to set very late and a little shaken.

After a similar bit of bad experience with another car service - they were late picking her up - we sent our 2nd AD - a very reliable guy - to pick her up personally in one of the 7-pass vans.

He got there on time. Knew the route. Got a flat.

It was somewhere around that time that my production coordinator got a call. She looked a little concerned as she handed me the phone without telling me who it was.

"Are you JB?"

"Yes."

"You're the guy who is in charge?"

That's always a debatable point, but since I had been handed the phone, assumed it was true in this case.

"Yes. Can I help you?"

"What are you trying to do? Kill my wife?"

In what was, admittedly, an odd reaction, I was at first impressed with talking to this acting legend (I wasn't thinking about the first call more than ten years earlier), and only a little later into the conversation did I delve into assuring him that we were doing everything we could to insure his wife's safety and that things would, definitely, get better."

Eli Wallach died yesterday at the age of 98.

I had not planned on a mid-week post, but I wanted to add personal notes here. I will refer you to the NY Times for a full and wonderful obituary that details this versatile actor's expansive career. 

It is a little ironic that only days ago I put up a post about Walter Brennan, another character actor, though I don't think of both of them the same way. Brennan was one of those wonderfully quirky character actors from the Studio days, who mostly developed their trade on their own or learning from fellow bit players.

Wallach, on the other hand, was from that generation of actors who came out of the Neighborhood Playhouse and later, Actors' Studio, where he was a founding member along with Lee Stasberg. Like Brando, they were that early generation of Method actors that Hollywood quickly realized could bring a level of risk and realism to the screen that it had not seen before.

In many studio films, they were used as to play different - see "ethnic" - characters, and in many cases, that meant a mustache. It may seem silly now, but they were still dealing with Hollywood conventions. 

The one that most people know, of course, is the Mexican bandit Calvera in The Magnificent Seven, and later Tuco in The Good, The Bad and the Ugly, mustached both. 

Then, there were the Italians, Guido in The Misfits and Silva in Baby Doll. Although he did not get the girl in either of those, he got to take his shot at bombshells Carroll Baker and Marilyn Monroe. Watch the subtle way he goes from sympathetic to cold as ice in one scene, and holds his own in a scene with one of the hottest actresses of her time.

Later, there would, of course, be other Italians and Mafioso, as well as Jewish characters. Given his age, many of the latter were Holocoust survivors, or later, little Jewish New Yorkers, which he was.

In between, there was, well, every imaginable role in between. Like many actors, he did movies and television to pay the bills, and theater because he loved it, often with his lovely wife Anne. In 2000, friend and comedienne Anne Meara wrote a play they did together about two retired comedians, "Down the Garden Path."

He did many episodes of a personal favorite of mine, the anthology series on early television like Playhouse 90. He plays an aide to Russian dictator Stalin here.

There is one similarity to Brennan. Because he lived up until 98, to many, especially younger viewers, he was always old. That's why I chose a picture at the top of the post that showed him when he was young.

The quote from Brennan, oft referred to by other character actors as well, was that they never get the girl. While that might have often been true on screen, he did get the girl he really wanted, his adoring wife Anne. Here, again, I offer this cool  and funny tribute she offered to him in 2010. (Yes, I have used before as well - but then to show Anne - good enough to share again)

My heart goes out to Anne now. I used to see them often at West Bank Cafe on Theater Row, and when Anne once called me over to their table, Eli had fun sharing with his dinner guests the adventures Anne went through on our film. I wanted to  dig a hole and hide, but that impish smile said that it was all in jest - maybe.

Johnny Twennies - Part 5 - Killing Eli's Wife

You Can't Get There From Here

I'm told that the phrase, "You can't get there from here," is attributed to people in Maine, pretty much as a way of mocking their road system and general demeanor.

Having only been to Maine once, I can't speak to the authenticity, but as a New Yorker who has lived in and worked in Boston, I can certainly appreciate that the cruel and inhumane system of "rotaries" common in New England are a maze designed by someone beyond evil, possibly the cruel NY Times Crossword designer, Will Shortz.

On Johnny Twennies, we found that good intentions are not good enough to necessarily get someone to set in an efficient, timely and comfortable manner.

One of our actresses was one of the Grand Ladies of the Theater (as well as film and television) Anne Jackson. A brief summay of her roles, including a Tony Nomination for Paddy Chayefsky's Middle of the Night and successful Broadway runs in plays from Tennessee Williams Summer and Smoke to Neil Simon's Lost in Yonkers does not do her career justice. Screen credits include Lovers and Other Strangers and The Shining. Younger audiences may best know her for a great recurring role as a feisty judge on TV's Law and Order.

Below are pictures of Anne with her husband, screen legend Eli Wallach, in their younger days, and when Eli received the Governors' Award at the Oscars in 2010.

With husband Eli Wallach then....

toasting Eli at the Oscars in 2010

When we worked with Anne, she was just about 70 years of age. A normally spry woman even at that age, she was not in great health at the time.

Regardless of her health, given her age and length of service, everyone from the producers to myself to Stan and our coordinator Dianne were determined to make her trip to set comfortable.

All of her scenes took place at the home of the lead character's "mother," the location in Long Island I previously referred to as The Money Pit.

This was one area we did not try to save money, and Stan and Dianne made arrangements with a reputable car service to pick her up at her door and take her to location, and with a Long Island car service to do the same the moment she was wrapped, so she did not have to wait for any other actors and/or crew.

I need to point out that this was not a requirement or request either from Anne or her agent; we did this because we felt it was the right thing to do. Anne could not have been nicer or more accommodating.

This was pre-GPS days, when we still printed maps and such. Once arrangements were made, Dianne plotted out detailed maps as well as printed directions from her home to set. These were faxed to the car service, which assured us their driver knew the way. We were taking no chances and insisted that the driver take our directions along.

I should also point out here these were our directions to set, and we got there with no issues regularly.

The first day of the car service, the driver shows up late. We scold, but we need to get her to set comfortably and there is no time to switch car services. The driver proceeds to get lost and, after many phone calls back and forth, gets her to the set late, upsetting both for us and for Ms. Jackson.

To make matters worse, on the way back, the LI car service arrives late.

We change car services for the second day. They take a "short cut" to save her time in the car; they get lost.

Unwilling to trust her transportation to chance, we send our reliable 2nd AD with a 7 passenger van to pick her up and take her to set. We know he won't get lost.

We do not anticipate that he will get a flat on the way to set.

It was somewhere around this time that I am in the office and a call comes in to Dianne. Listening to Dianne's side of the conversation without hearing the other became a habit over the years, and some of them were truly entertaining.

"Oh, my, I'm so sorry, sir."

"Surely, you can speak to Mr. Bruno."

Without saying anything else, she hands me the phone. I didn't have time to make the connection, until I heard that unmistakable voice.

"What are you trying to do, kill my wife?"

It was the voice I remembered from the evil bandit in The Magnificent Seven, Clark Gable's cowboy partner in The Misfits, the lecherous Sicilian Silvio in Baby Doll and Don Altobello in The Godfather Part II.

In an odd way, it was the fascination of talking to one of my screen favorites that struck me before the scolding. I had actually met Eli Wallach in passing at a local restaurant we both frequented on the West Side of Manhattan, and had spoken to him one time over the phone.

I was producing some play, and we were thinking of getting Eli Wallach. This was back in the 80s, and even though he was an established star, the contact info for him if you wanted to cast him was his home number with Actors' Equity. He would answer the phone, talk to you, and then, if interested, pass you on to his agent. I found this fascinating.

For the record, he turned it down.

If he was underwhelmed in our first conversation all those years ago, he was even less impressed now. I can't remember the conversation word-for-word, but the phrases, "I'm sorry," "we will fix this," and "I understand, Mr. Wallach." came up often.

To make matters worse, on set, where Anne was fighting a cold, many of her scenes took place coming down the long staircase that was so crucial to our final scene. We used stand-ins for any run-throughs, and even planned shots to minimize her time up-and-down the stairs, but it seemed no matter what we did, if something would go wrong, it would be when she was halfway down the stairs, having to climb them again for the next take.

This is humorous now, because Anne is not only still with us but, now in her late 80s, still a treasure. Her performance, in the end, was really very good.

What made it even more peculiar was that right after we wrapped, a Law and Order episode aired where Sam Waterson has all he can handle in chasing her (as a judge) up a long set of courthouse stairs before she upbraids him for some miscarriage of justice she perceived him to be perpetrating.

I swear, she practically bounced up those stairs, and this could not have been shot more than a few months previous.

A short time later, I ran into both of them at the restaurant I mentioned previously. They were having dinner with another couple, and Anne called me over to introduce me. When she mentioned the film, Eli turned, with that big grin that age has not changed, looked at me, and said, "Oh, so you're that guy." He then laughed and invited me to join them, which I did for only a brief moment before excusing myself, not wanting to interfere with their dinner.

Given all the good guys and bad guys Eli's characters had taken out or ordered taken out over the years, I wasn't going to over-stay my welcome.

Below, a video that tells you something about the love - and the humor - they both have.