Goodbye to a gentleman director who genuinely cared

By PHILIP WUNTCH
Film Critic Emeritus
None of the recent show business deaths touched me as personally as that of Sydney Pollack, the Oscar-winning director who died of cancer Monday at the age of 73.

I interviewed him many times through the years, the final encounter being for his 2005 documentary "Sketches of Frank Gehry." He was, as always, gentlemanly and witty. But a spark was missing. I sensed he was not feeling well and suspected it was something more than the exhaustion that accompanies a media tour. His mood was mellow, and when he appraised his films, it was with the wistfulness of someone who wondered if he would ever make another.

Some might consider him a director of the old school. He genuinely cared about characterization, actors, dialogue and male-female relationships. If such concerns do indeed make him old-school, young directors should consider his films a textbook.

Pollack would readily admit that he never made a flawless film. He once analyzed his 1973 hit, "The Way We Were," with sharp acumen.

"Tell me that it introduces a whole new plot in its third act, and I agree," he said. "Tell me that the movie is lumpish in construction, and I agree. Tell me that it treats the McCarthy Era blacklisting in a simplistic manner, and I agree. But one thing I do know: The movie has magic moments."

Pauline Kael said virtually the same thing, albeit in a wordier, self-aggrandizing fashion. Among "The Way We Were"'s magic moments were the Barbra Streisand/Robert Redford beer garden scene, the Redford/Bradford Dillman "best list" on the sailboat and the final Streisand/Redford scene outside the Plaza Hotel. A friend once told me that every time he sees the movie, he feels a sentimental urge to get in touch with his ex-wife.

Pollack's most popular film was 1982's "Tootsie"; his most lauded, 1985's "Out of Africa," which won Oscars for Best Picture and Best Director. "Tootsie"'s magic moments include all scenes between Jessica Lange and Charles Durning in their delightful, credible daughter-father relationship as well as Dustin Hoffman's first shock of disdain for Dabney Coleman, in whom he recognizes his own male chauvinism.

In "Out of Africa," Meryl Streep, flying in Redford's plane, muses, "This must be the way God sees the world!" It's a magic moment, as is her farewell to the native who will care for her farm in her absence.

A love of characterization brightens all Pollack's films. His first major critical success was 1969's "They Shoot Horses, Don't They?," the Depression Era dance marathon drama that established Jane Fonda as a dramatic actress.

"I loved all the characters in the movie," he recalled. "They didn't have to go back to that dance floor. They were exhausted. They were sick. They were hungry. But still they got up and went back. I loved them for that."

But he knew when characters didn't work. The 1979 Redford/Fonda opus "The Electric Horseman" earned a profit without being the anticipated triumph. He asked if I loved the characters, and I told him that I "liked" them.

"That's not enough," he said. "It's the kind of movie where you have to love the characters, not just like them. Otherwise, it doesn't work, and I'm afraid that's the case."

He skillfully used big-name stars but knew that supporting characters gave a film substance. "The Firm" (1993) was his last blockbuster, but Holly Hunter and Gary Busey were more memorable in supporting parts than Tom Cruise was as the centerpiece. His last feature film, the moderate 2005 success "The Interpreter," had strong performances from Sean Penn and Nicole Kidman, but Catherine Keener, in a secondary role, stole the reviews.

Having started his career as an actor, Pollack clearly respected and even loved many thespians. Many, yes, but not all. His bust-ups with Hoffman while filming "Tootsie" became a part of movie folklore.

"He was a total schmuck," he said, asking me not to use that word in print. "I had just done "Absence of Malice," and Paul (Newman) and I argued all the way through it. But there was respect and affection in all our arguments. Not so with Hoffman."

He commented wryly on Cliff Robertson's behavior on the 1975 espionage drama, "Three Days of the Condor."

"He was so jealous of Redford, he would check with the wardrobe department to find out what Redford was wearing in their next scene. Then he'd show up wearing an extra-flashy tie."

But such comments were noteworthy for their rarity. He spoke fondly of Streisand, Burt Lancaster, Faye Dunaway and other actors with reputations for not suffering suggestions gladly.

Pollack himself never recovered from the acting bug and never wanted to. He can be seen currently as Patrick Dempsey's irascible father in the otherwise lame comedy "Made of Honor." He was a semi-regular in "The Sopranos" and "Will & Grace." On the big screen his imposing 6-foot-plus presence was useful in slyly ominous roles in last year's "Michael Clayton" as well as Stanley Kubrick's "Eyes Wide Shut" (1999) and Woody Allen's "Husbands and Wives" (1992). Arguably, his most famous on-screen stint was as Hoffman's beleaguered agent in "Tootsie," in which their Russian Tea Room scene sparkled.

He was scheduled to direct the applauded HBO drama "Recount," but illness forced him to relinquish the job. The project was close to his heart. "The Way We Were" may have treated politics in a simplistic fashion, but personally he was always outspoken about his own liberal beliefs.

Inevitably, Pollack had disappointments, most notably "Random Hearts" (1999), "Havana" (1990) and "Bobby Deerfield" (1977). Some cinephiles were indignant when he remade Billy Wilder's "Sabrina." But Pollack's 1995 version was not without merit. All his failures, in fact, were honorable ones.

According to wire reports, when word of his probable demise became known within the industry, most of the big names he directed visited him. At the time of his death, he reportedly was surrounded by family and friends. I hope so. He was that show-business rarity, a true gentleman and a down-to-earth fella.