I watched Sybil last night. I’ve seen it many times. I’ve got a lot to say about it – about the acting, in particular – but I just wanted to write a small post of praise for Charles Lane, who plays the small-town doctor from Sybil’s home town. He has one scene, and I’ve gotta say: he knocks that shit OUT OF THE PARK.
THIS is the kind of acting I love. I mean, I love my stars, too, you know I love my big ol’ movie stars … but the acting that really turns me on are these random people, these character actors, who show up – do their job SO WELL – and never get the glory. Mitchell and Alex and I talk a lot about people who we think win “10 minute Oscars”. By that we mean – the people who do not star in the films, but without whom the entire film would not work. People who just kick some serious ASS in their parts. My favorite “10 minute Oscar” is Brooke Smith’s acting in Silence of the Lambs. She’s the girl in the bottom of the well. Man, oh man. That is some good acting there. I mean – think about it. Jodie Foster and Anthony Hopkins star – and they both give unforgettable performances. (Interesting that Hopkins is only on screen in that film for 15 minutes himself. Isn’t that wild??? It seems like he is in it for MUCH longer – but he is not. Phenomenal. So I guess he DID win an Oscar for a performance not much longer than 10 minutes!) But back to these more unknown actors who show up and do their jobs like nobody’s business: without the scenes of Brooke Smith in the well – the film would not have the same impact. And she just GOES THERE. What I love about her performance is that, obviously, she is a victim of circumstance. I mean, good Lord. She’s AT THE BOTTOM OF A WELL. That sucks. But she is not a docile creature – she doesn’t JUST weep and wail – We also see her strategizing. We see her kidnap the dog. Smart!!! I love when she’s coaxing the dog down – she’s using the normal voice you use when you’re talking to a dog – but she’s so pissed, so DETERMINED that she will survive this ordeal – that she also says stuff like, “Come on, you little fucker … get in the fucking basket …” I love that. It’s so real. And yet so unexpected. A lesser actor would just play the victim. She would play to the hilt the “oh my God, I am so TRAPPED” – Brooke Smith plays that as well, but she also expresses the rage one would feel when one is so trapped. It’s a fantastic choice. She seems like a real girl. I also love when Jodie Foster bursts into the room – and then says down into the well, “Okay … I’ll be right back.” And we hear Brooke Smith start shouting, “Don’t leave me – you fucking bitch!!!” hahahahaha I just love that. She’s not just falling over herself in gratitude … she has HAD it … she wants OUT. Do not leave me down here!! Anyway – for me, that’s a perfect example of a 10-minute Oscar. She knocks it out of the park. The movie wouldn’t be the same without her performance. Even though the two big stars show up and do THEIR jobs really really well too. I’ve met Brooke Smith a couple of times – at stage readings, and stuff like that, and I have no idea how to say, “Uhm … you won a 10 minute Oscar in my mind!!!”
So back to Charles Lane. Here he is – this is about the age he was when he played this part.
Joanne Woodward plays the psychiatrist Dr. Wilbur. I have so much more to say about Joanne Woodward … I need to do a big Woodward post – she’s one of my favorite actresses – but I will keep my focus. I will try, anyway. So anyway, Dr. Wilbur ends up taking a trip to Sybil’s old hometown to see if she can kind of piece together Sybil’s childhood for her – since Sybil can’t remember any of it. She goes and looks up the old doctor who used to treat Sybil for the “normal childhood aches and pains” – to see if he could maybe illuminate anything for her. Charles Lane plays that doctor, Dr. Quinoness. He doesn’t have any huge emotional outbursts, he doesn’t have any showy explosion of rage … His part is simple. He is a country doctor. He works out of his house. He has been a doctor for seventy years. He has wonderful manners, he is welcoming and kind. The kind of man you would love to have as your doctor. You just GET that from the second he appears on screen. He ushers Dr. Wilbur into his office, and he’s carrying a tea tray with a teapot, and a couple of mugs on it, a little creamer. Just the way he offers her the tea tells you everything you need to know about his character. He’s old-fashioned, he’s kind, and he is welcoming to this outsider – she may be an outsider, and she may be a woman wearing a white pant suit with a big Peter Pan collar (I love Woodward’s clothes in this movie – they’re SO mid-1970s!!) – but she is also a doctor, and he treats her with respect. As a colleague. I don’t know – it’s really subtle – but without that colleague-to-colleague honesty and respect, the scene wouldn’t work.
Joanne Woodward’s acting in this entire film is literally masterful. But I’ll write about her later. Argh. Getting sidetracked!! Even though Dr. Wilbur is angry at what has happened to Sybil, even though she is in a rage at what happened to this little girl, she doesn’t bring that anger to this scene. She is on a fact-finding mission … and this man was not one of the evil-doers. She’s appropriate with him. He is a fellow doctor. She starts asking questions about Sybil’s health when she was a child. He is kindly, and tells about when Sybil had her tonsils out, and how frightened she was. Dr. Wilbur says, “Did you ever treat her for anything else?” This is when he says, “Oh, the normal childhood aches and pains.” Woodward then asks if he still has the file – “I would consider it a great professional courtesy if I could have a look at it.” There’s no animosity here. Charles Lane gets up from his desk, “Let me see if I still have her file …” He goes to a file cabinet and shuffles through the folders. He is forthcoming, direct … he’s not CONSCIOUSLY hiding anything. But at the end of the scene, we realize that … he knew. He knew what was happening to Sybil. I just got goosebumps all over again remembering the last moment of the scene … But I’m getting ahead of myself.
He finds the file. He sits back down and starts reading out loud: “Fractured elbow. Hand burned from the stove. Fractured larynx. Broken ankle.” Etc. The list goes on. As he reads, you can feel his energy change. It’s like – seeing it all in one place, hearing the litany of horrible injuries … makes him realize the reality – makes him SEE, yet again, after so many years, what was so obvious at the time.
Charles Lane trails his voice away … there’s a long silence between the two of them. Nobody speaks.
Woodward says, “Normal childhood aches and pains, huh?” But she doesn’t say it with hostility, or as an attack on him. She’s just pointing out what she sees. I love how she says that line. Then she says, curiously, “Did you ever speculate?”
This is where Lane’s beautiful acting really comes to the fore. And I have to say this: he does the rest of the scene, except for the final moment, looking out of the window. We do not see his face. He stands with his back to her, talking … An actor needs his face. The actor’s face is one of the most important ways he can tell his story. BUT – oh how powerful it is to have an actor turn his back to us … How much it can tell you about the emotions he is experiencing, it can be extremely powerful – if used effectively. This is what Charles Lane does here.
He gets up. Goes to the window. His BACK is eloquent. Do you get that? His very BACK is eloquent. You just FEEL for this man, this WITNESS. This kindly gentle man … who had had evidence of horrible child abuse in his town … and had done nothing.
After a while, he starts speaking. He leads off with: “I’ve never told anyone this before …”
It’s a moment that makes me catch my breath every time I see it. Again, he doesn’t do it in an overdramatic way, he’s not being an ACTOR in this moment. He’s being a PERSON. A man, an old man, who has kept a secret for thirty years. He knew. He knew.
But he doesn’t show his hand too early, as an actor – and this is why the moment is so powerful. He doesn’t greet Dr. Wilbur with a guilty conscience. He doesn’t SHOW us the things that the character himself doesn’t even know yet. He’s not being protective of himself. But once he reads all of her injuries out loud … he knows that his moment of reckoning has come. He remembers. And it’s a painful moment for him. This is why he stands and looks out the window. He is filled with grief at his inaction back then. Again, though: none of this is overplayed. You don’t think: “Oooh, look at this actor having a great moment.” You think: “This man is tormented. This poor man.”
Now this next will be a paraphrase – I wish I had the script in front of me, but this is the general idea:
He says, staring out the window … all we get of him is his back – his slightly stooped over back, “I treated her for a bladder infection when she was five years old … very unusual for a child of her age … I would imagine if you did a gynecological exam on her now, you would see what I did. Scarring of the inner walls, hardened destroyed tissue. Now – we know that the Lord sometimes creates mistakes in nature – but the Almighty had nothing to do with what I saw inside that little girl.”
It is an absolutely devastating moment.
Woodward just sits there, listening. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to.
Then – Chrales Lane – the beautiful character actor Charles Lane – turns around and looks at Woodward.
He says, “I imagine in your line of work, you hear a lot of confessions.”
Again: it is a devastating moment. Beautifully and simply played. He doesn’t say “will you hear my confession?” It is implied. He wants forgiveness. It is out in the open now. Not just what happened to Sybil – but his complicity in it. He does not START the scene with this self-knowledge. Dr. Quinoness has not been walking around with a load of guilt for 30 years. He has suppressed what he saw way back then. But now he remembers. And it is a terrible terrible moment for him. This kindly old man, wearing glasses, and a black suit. A terrible moment for him.
Dr. Wilbur says to him, kindly, “Dr. Quinoness, it was a long long time ago.”
Cut back to Charles Lane, looking at her. His face is simple, open, and pained. He says, and he is truly asking, “How do I find absolution?”
Cut back to Woodward, looking up at him. She has no answer for him.
The scene ends there.
There are many other amazing scenes in the film with some of the best acting I honestly have ever seen … but that small scene between Charles Lane and Joanne Woodward is my favorite in the entire film.
It’s because of what he brings to it.
In less than 5 minutes, he creates a completely three-dimensional character. It’s a very important scene – because of the information it imparts. Charles Lane’s part is simple: he is there to provide some exposition. That’s it. That’s the point of the scene. Dr. Wilbur gets confirmation of Sybil’s abuse. Now she knows. It’s confirmed. But – and this is partly because of the writing – which is quite good – in this scene in particular: Charles Lane takes it to another level in those last two moments – looking out the window, not being able to face her as he confesses that he knew … and then turning back to look at her – asking for absolution.
It’s just a perfectly played scene, on every level it needs to be. Not EVERY actor who has a small part in a big film shows up and makes such an impression. Not EVERY actor knocks a 5 minute scene out of the park. It’s very difficult. It’s almost easier to STAR in something – because you can develop your character over time, you have many scenes to do it in, you can show THIS side of the person you’re playing in THIS scene, you can show THAT side of the person you’re playing in ANOTHER scene – You have TIME. I mean, you have more pressure on you, of course … but at least you have a lot of screen time to do your job. Not so with our 10-minute Oscar crowd. They have ONE scene, sometimes … and they MUST nail it – in less than 10 minutes. It’s tough, man.
So I just want to take a moment to sing the praise of Charles Lane’s unsung work in Sybil. It’s perfection.
I looked him up last night, just to see his story. He was already an old man when he filmed Sybil – and whaddya know – he is still alive. He just celebrated his 100th birthday. He was actually honored at last year’s Emmys – he was one of the founders of the television academy – and he is now its oldest surviving member. I loved this bit of trivia:
Was honored on March 16, 2005 at the TVLand Awards for his long career and his 100th birthday. When he received his award, he said in his still-booming voice, “In case anyone’s interested, I’m still available!”
God bless him!!
But his career … I mean, LOOK at this career.
THAT is the career of a character actor. Stars’ resumes are always much shorter. Character actors, successful ones, do 10 movies to a star’s one. They show up, do their job for 3 days, and move on to the next one. Charles Lane worked constantly in television – appearing multiple times on I Love Lucy and many other classics.
He has been working since the early 30s. He was in Twentieth Century, he was in It’s a Wonderful Life – he was in Arsenic and Old Lace – he was in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington – Also, as I scrolled down his resume, I noticed how many times he was “uncredited”. He was a workman. Showed up, said his 5 lines, moved on to his next job. Bless those people.
Charles Lane said, “Having had so many small parts, there was a character I played that showed up all the time and people did get to know him, like an old friend.”
Old friend indeed. He brings his history with him to every part. You may think of him as “that guy”. Oh, wait – that’s that guy!!
His work in Sybil is what I, personally, love about acting. It’s the kind of thing where I look at it and think: “That. That is what I admire. That is what I want to do.” There’s no vanity in it. There’s an understanding of script analysis – there’s an understanding of how your part fits in to the whole – there’s also a fearlessness in just doing what the part demands.
Watch how he turns back to her from looking out the window. Watch how he says, “How do I find absolution?”
It don’t get any better than that.
Sheila,
Have you ever read this interview with Stewart Stern, who wrote the script? He doesn’t talk about Charles Lane, but he does say a lot about the production process and how it basically would have never happened if Joanne Woodward hadn’t stepped up. I think you’ll really like the stuff about James Dean as well.
sheil…maybe one of the best posts u’ve ever written…i LOVE him! I LOVE that scene and i LOVE that movie..television acting has never equaled it!!! I cried just reading ur description…it reminds me of telling Jordan and John all about Richard Loomis and Sybil being one of the great romances in movie history and sobbing into my coffee at the Melrose diner! Charles Lane is my hero!
Oh Emily, I cannot thank you enough for sending me that link. I’ve never read it … what an amazing thing. Thank you SO MUCH.
I love the anecdote about Sally Fields’ audition – wow!!
What a journey that guy went on, huh??
mitchell – you are always crying in public throughout Chicago’s random eateries. I LOVE IT.
“Member that night when I cried at the Devil Dogs?”
hahahahaha
Thanks for the kind words … I just HAD to write something about that scene!! So kick ass! I need to do a whole Brad Davis post as well – how wonderful is he?? When he is suddenly forced to deal with her as Marsha on the roof – He’s a marvelous actor. Sad that he was so messed up, personally – because he’s truly something special.
Joanne Woodward as Dr. Wilbur – finally losing her cool: “What did that monster do to you?”
I mean, come ON.
Sheila,
I know! So many years after, it’s so hard to imagine anyone but Sally Field playing the part. Susan Sarrandon and Audrey Hepburn are great, but I can’t imagine either one of them doing what Sally Field did.
“I didn’t want the Flying Nun.” Hahahaha. And that he admits that he practically *slept* through her audition. Think of the missed opportunity had he not woken up.
That flying nun moment made me laugh, too … hahahahaha Uhm, I don’t blame him for thinking: Do we actually want the chick who played the FLYING FECKIN’ NUN to play Sybil??
It was such a plum part – doesn’t surprise me that every actress in Hollywood wanted it. How much would I love to see those audition tapes??
What about that gem of a picture of his handwritten script for Rebel Without A Cause? It kind of reminded me of how spoiled we are today, with programs like Final Draft that do all the formatting that can create a perfectly professional script right from your desk. I scribble lots of notes by hand – on a big poster board in crayon I have taped to my front door, of all places. I’m a stupid geek.
I’d love to hear the audition tapes. It feels inappropriately intrusive, but I’d love to hear the original tapes of Sybil herself. God, what that woman suffered.
Emily – His description of listening to the Sybil tapes kinda blew me away – you know, it’s interesting: I knew it was “based” on a real story – but assumed it had been very fictionalized – From what he described – they really stuck pretty closely to what really happened in that psychiatrists office. Her hiding under the piano, for instance – when she got panicked. Somehow, I like that. Like – it honors the real woman.
I wonder what ever happened to her. The voiceover at the end says she was a “professor of art” and I just would love to know that she was able to live a productive life.
Oops – just to add: I didn’t assume it was fictionalized because it seemed unbelievable. Not at all. I just hadn’t read the book – and didn’t know how much they took from the real woman’s story.
Clickety-click
Woah. You are Link Goddess today, Emily.
It sounds like she did make a nice life for herself. I am strangely very glad about that. I also like that she and Wilbur stayed in touch.
I know, Sheila. How wonderful that she managed to find peace in her lifetime and enjoy her pets and garden and all of these little pleasures she’d been stripped of for so many years. It IS strange, in a way, that you can feel happiness for someone for reading something like “she enjoyed playing Scrabble with her friends.” It’s just Scrabble, but for a woman with demons like hers, it becomes something beautiful.
It’s a triumph, it really is.
Plus, I’m EXTRMELY happy that she lived her life out anonymously. I can imagine things might have been different if she would have had to deal with being poked at for the sake of the macabre curiosity of the public. I’m glad she was left alone to LIVE.
Yeah, that is an excellent point.
I would like to say that you have just won the annual Goddess of the Odd Blogging Awards, Sheila. Congratulations. I’ll give you your plaque when I get to NY. There’s a small parade, but don’t worry about it, I have a video camera and we’ll be able to give your family a copy of the tape.
Emily is officially Second Runner Up. She gets a fabulous boa and an autographed picture of Tom Cruise dressed as Xenu. And Dorothy Gale from Kansas.
Charles Lane is bar none, the best character actor in Hollywood.
I haven’t seen Sybil in years, but his performance is etched in my mind. I love that you mentioned this particular scene. I remember when he goes to the window, this wonderful gesture he has where he calmly puts his hands around his back. We see nothing but his back, his wonderful, recognizable profile, and then his confession.
The other thing that’s clear as a bell, is his voice. As he reads what was done to Sybil, and what he “found inside that little girl…” his voice drops. Literally drops about an octave. This is not only the work of a great film star, but a great ACTOR. He KNOWS how to use his voice. There’s the calm demeanor and professionalism of the counrty Doc that he decides to play, and then there’s this mortified aging man, riddled with guilt about what he did NOT do. He can’t keep up the facade. His voice paralells his inner torment.
It’s stunning.
Fabulous post.
Yup, in Charles Lane’s brief scene you get the idea that in those days, doctors just didn’t interfere that much in family life – the affects of abuse were treated but rarely acknowledged, and an old-fashioned GP would’ve seen lots of things that were disturbing. The doctor is professional and competent, and actually is glad to discuss one of his old cases with a fellow doctor. There’s a sense of comradesship at first with Dr. Wilbur that’s very nice (after all, how many woman doctors had he known or worked with?). He reads the file, and the light dawns. Lordy. It’s breathtaking.
I’m so glad you mentioned this performance, Sheila. It reminds me of some of the other small but startling performances in Sybil: the dad and stepmother in the scene at the Met; the sweet grandma playing peekaboo (“Is that my Sybil?”), the intense performance of Sybil as a little girl, one moment drawing a green duck, the next cringing under the piano with an enema-filled bladder; and of course Sybil’s mom, the cabbage-chopping loon, her chin quivvering as she looks out the kitchen window and sings, “Oh, for the wings, for the wings of a dove, far away, far away, far – away – would – I – roam.”
This movie kills me.
The book is outstanding, by the way, for any of you Sybil fans who haven’t read it yet. There’s even an example of one of Sybil’s paintings, called “Blue is the Color of Love.”
Alex – right ON with your observation of the change in his voice. That’s part of the power of the moment – you’re so right. He goes to another place – not just vocally – but emotionally. His social self dissolves – and now he is face to face with the horror. It’s just beautiful. What was that – probably 1 day of work?? Damn fine.
And thanks for the plaque and the parade. I will dance in the streets. I am an odd blogger who writes long-ass posts about Charles Lane!! And I am happy with it!
Stevie- Good point about the country doc thing … Yes – that entire WORLD of medicine (which is now pretty much obsolete) is encapsulated in his simple and eloquent performance.
And shivers … that moment when loony Mommy chops the cabbage in half is terrifying, isn’t it?? Nutcase.
I love when Sybil is still sort of protecting her mother – and saying to Dr. Wilbur: “She’s still my mama!”
Dr. Wilbur retorts, “That was an accident of nature.”
Just for the heck of it: Charles Lane was one of Lucille Ball’s best freinds. He made more appearances on all her television shows than any other character actor. Including The Lucy Show, and Here’s Lucy.
Ball called him “One of the greats.” They lived down the street from each other until the day she died.
He was also one of the four poker buddies on that street:
Lane, Milton Berle, Jack Benny, and (ready?) Charles Coburn.
Alex – oh my God, I just love that. Can you imagine???
Must be so difficult to be 100 years old. He has out-lived everyone he once knew. Must be hard. Apparently his long-time wife just died in 2002 … so they had a nice long marriage.
Since I’m link goddess today, I guess I should also drop this one.
I love both of them. I’m a bit skeptical. I mean, they could do a remake starring Meryl Streep and Reese Witherspoon and I’d still be skeptical.
There’s no way in the world I’m going to be able to get the original out of my head.
And who the HECK are they going to get to play Mom?
Yeah, really – that mother is emblazoned in my mind forever.
I’m skeptical too. I like Jessica Lange, but I would say one of her primary assets as an actress is her self-centeredness. She is best when she plays someone completely and totally self-involved. Like Frances Farmer. Or her character in Crimes of the Heart. I never buy her when she’s being extroverted – I just don’t. She’s too self-centered. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing – at least not when she’s cast well – So this doesn’t seem like a good fit at all – because Dr. Wilbur is so not self-centered.
I probably won’t see it. Why bother? The original is a high-water mark, in every way!!
Yeah, as much as I like everyone attached to the project, it’s a bit like Steve Martin remaking The Pink Panther. Why tamper with perfection?
Sheila – I can’t blame you for thinking that Hollywood tinkered with the woman’s story. Most of the “Based on Actual Events” stuff is so far from the actual events it’s not funny. We’re not talking about poetic license, such as in “I, Claudius,” or even omissions due to time and plot, but outright fabrications. It’s especially weird when, as in “Glory Road,” most of the participants are actually alive and walk out of the theater going, “Coach Haskins never did that. Hell, I never did that!”
I’m working through the interview right now. I just want to drop in this line. The reporter says, of director Nick Ray, “You didn’t think much of Ray.” Stern’s reply: I never found cause to respect him as a man, though I did respect him as an artist.
What a great answer. “I never found cause to respect him as a man…” The layers and the implications are just fascinating; you could go back and forth for an hour trying to decide if he was really being kind or if he only wanted to seem kind while crushing the guy.
OK, back to it…
Oh, and another one:
CINEMATICAL: If you were starting your career today as a young man, do you think you would have become an independent director, so you could have more control over your own work?
STERN: Well, I could have been a director back then, if I’d wanted to. But I was afraid of screwing up and people laughing at me. I was a good writer, a good dialogue director, I gave good feedback; but to be the one in charge, the one who did it? I just didn’t feel enough confidence.
CINEMATICAL: Do you have that confidence today? If you wrote the perfect script today, a script you just had to see made into a film, could you helm it?
STERN: (long, thoughtful pause) My…my heart goes very fast when you ask me that question.
What a marvelous interview!
It’s totally a wonderful interview! I really like that guy – sounds like a true artist.
No one liked Nick Ray as a person. But they sure as shit loved his movies. He made many many enemies and he didn’t care. He saw himself as an auteur before that was fashionable. He was far more European in his approach than American directors at that time – it would become the fashion to behave like Nick Ray a mere 15 years later – but he was before his time. I love Nick Ray. Doesn’t mean he wasn’t a bastard. He was. But I love his movies. He also directed one of my favorite movies of all time: In a Lonely Place – starring Humphrey Bogart. It’s one of the best insider look at Hollywood EVER FILMED. Cynical, straight-talking, bitter … and true, true, true. Humphrey Bogart’s best acting as well. A lot of people think so.
And frankly, nightfly – the whole issue with fictionalizing work for the movies never bothered me as much as it does a lot of people. Do people honestly think that Braveheart actually happened that way?? I have different priorities. My priorites are: is it cinematic? Is it dramatic? What is necessary? What is not? If it’s not necessary – then leave it out. Or – combine a couple of different episodes to make the story more real, move the plot along … It doesn’t bother me. I’m not watching a movie for ACCURACY. I’m watching it to be entertained and moved.
Sybil is, hands down, the best television movie ever made, with some of the best acting ever seen ANYWHERE. Sorry – it’s a real pet peeve of mine, especially when this is a post celebrating the ART of those involved. I got into some big argument with some jagoff who took me to task for liking me the movie JFK. As if I was a moron and didn’t know the truth from fiction. It’s a good FILM. One of Oliver Stone’s best, in my opinion.
Again, sorry for the bitchy tone – but I’m an artist, and my concern is always, first and foremost: is it good art?
In regards to Sybil, the answer is a resounding YES.
Sheila – that’s cool, I get where you’re coming from. I was responding there specifically to your expression of surprise about how much of it was true to the actual details.
I’m not expecting a movie to be perfect historically, of course – that’s what documentaries are for. I don’t need every preposition and inflection to be spot-on any more than I need Picasso to be photo-realistic like Rockwell. But, like both Rockwell and Picasso, you need to get the big picture right. If someone made a movie about me, for example, and smooshed together two of my childhood friends, well, ok – but if they decided to make my parents traveling tuba salesmen to spice it up, I’d be nonplussed – and if they were made into bitter, raging alcoholics, I’d be ticked.
So – does it make me a hypocrite that I can say all that but still love DePalma’s “Untouchables”? =D
Nightfly – hahahahahaha No, of course not!!
I love JFK. I know it’s bull malarkey. Love it anyway, as an accomplishment of film-making.