Remembering a Great Actress
I’ve been thinking about Anne Bancroft.
It’s not often that an actor finds the perfect role and then inhabits the role so utterly that we can scarcely imagine another person doing it.
Lerner & Lowe wrote the songs especially for Rex Harrison.
Could anyone other than Brando have been Terry Malloy or Don Corleone?
The list of people who were offered and turned down the lead in Lawrence of Arabia is astonishing. But finally, there is O’Toole up there. Singular and unforgettable.
So, just think of the impact that Anna Maria Italiano had in her five decades on stage and in the movies and television…as Anne Bancroft.
And look at these two – that’s right, not one, but TWO – characters that she completely owned: Annie Sullivan and Mrs. Robinson, above.
The other day, I caught the last act of The Miracle Worker. Bancroft won both the Tony and the Oscar for playing the role of Helen Keller’s teacher on stage and in the film. Patty Duke was young Helen, blind and deaf and wild and unteachable.
The climactic moment happens at the well. Annie Sullivan is making an out-of-control hysterical animal-like Helen pump the water. She repeats over and over the finger signs for the letters, w-a-t-e-r, when suddenly the world stops. Where there has been nothing until now, no hint of cognition or recognition, no connection between substance, sound, touch, idea and language, suddenly The Dawn appears. Helen gets it. Then she gets ground and face and Mother and Father and teacher.
I confess. Every time I see this moment, including but a few days ago, I behave crazily. I yell and scream and sob and cry. It seems to touch something so elemental and primal in me that I just completely lose it. It seems to me one of the great moments ever put on film.
It’s not often that an actor finds the perfect role and then inhabits the role so utterly that we can scarcely imagine another person doing it.
Lerner & Lowe wrote the songs especially for Rex Harrison.
Could anyone other than Brando have been Terry Malloy or Don Corleone?
The list of people who were offered and turned down the lead in Lawrence of Arabia is astonishing. But finally, there is O’Toole up there. Singular and unforgettable.
So, just think of the impact that Anna Maria Italiano had in her five decades on stage and in the movies and television…as Anne Bancroft.
And look at these two – that’s right, not one, but TWO – characters that she completely owned: Annie Sullivan and Mrs. Robinson, above.
The other day, I caught the last act of The Miracle Worker. Bancroft won both the Tony and the Oscar for playing the role of Helen Keller’s teacher on stage and in the film. Patty Duke was young Helen, blind and deaf and wild and unteachable.
The climactic moment happens at the well. Annie Sullivan is making an out-of-control hysterical animal-like Helen pump the water. She repeats over and over the finger signs for the letters, w-a-t-e-r, when suddenly the world stops. Where there has been nothing until now, no hint of cognition or recognition, no connection between substance, sound, touch, idea and language, suddenly The Dawn appears. Helen gets it. Then she gets ground and face and Mother and Father and teacher.
I confess. Every time I see this moment, including but a few days ago, I behave crazily. I yell and scream and sob and cry. It seems to touch something so elemental and primal in me that I just completely lose it. It seems to me one of the great moments ever put on film.
If you’ve never seen this classic, I encourage you to rent it now. But be warned. Its power is irresistible.
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