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Tag: Disability in Movies

Blind Witness: Victoria Principal’s Audrey Hepburn Retread

Victoria Principal in Blind Witness.

Just in case its plot—and gamine leading lady—weren’t tip-offs enough that Blind Witness (1989) was a made-for-TV retread of Audrey Hepburn’s Wait Until Dark, a quick glance at its credits reveals a common cowriter, Robert Carrington. Working here with Edmond Stevens from a story by Tom Sullivan, he crafts a familiar cat-and-mouse thriller about a blind woman targeted by a sadistic murderer. What distinguishes Witness from similar disabled-woman-in-peril fare, like Sorry, Wrong Number or The Spiral Staircase, is the resourcefulness of its heroine, Maggie Kemlich (Victoria Principal), and the intensity of her pursuer, Remy (Tim Choate), a hardened criminal.

Visually impaired since childhood, Maggie has built a successful business and enjoys an adventurous marriage with the sighted Gordon (Stephen Macht of Fear Stalk). When he is killed in a home invasion, investigating Lt. Schapper (Matt Clark, scowling as only he could) discounts a bruised and shaken Maggie’s reliability as a witness on the basis of her blindness. Asked how she can be certain only two suspects were present, she confidently rises from her chair, crosses the room and introduces herself to his silent partner, Det. Tuthill (a guarded Paul Le Mat, the useless father in The Night They Saved Christmas). “It’s not a parlor trick,” she admonishes a surprised Schapper, whose smug certitude persists.

Sorry, Wrong Number Gets the Loni Anderson Treatment

Loni Anderson could use some Anacin for her neuralgia and neuritis in Sorry, Wrong Number.

Was Barbara Stanwyck’s death in January of 1990 perhaps hastened by the premiere of Loni Anderson’s made-for-television remake of Sorry, Wrong Number in October of 1989? The coroner’s report contains nothing to support that irresponsible theory, but it’s difficult not to wonder how Stanwyck, arguably the greatest American film actress in the history of the medium, felt about this silly project, one of many ’80s TV remakes of classic films. What must she have made of Anderson’s performance in particular, beginning with the stilted delivery that’s reminiscent of Brenda Dickson welcoming you to her home? (The video will inevitably be scrubbed from YouTube, but the legend lives on in print.)

Dressed alternately as a stewardess and a Sea Org member, her strikingly unnatural wig brilliantly capturing the sunlight in flashbacks, Anderson—who we last enjoyed as a robotic and impeccably attired escort in My Mother’s Secret Life—plays Madeleine Coltrane, middle-aged heiress to the country’s fourth-largest pharmaceutical empire. Screenwriter Ann Louise Bardach and director Tony Wharmby don’t probe too deeply, but we understand that her tycoon father Jim (Hal Holbrook) has kept her in an overprotective bubble. However, her guilelessness is so pronounced that during the interminable scenes that Madeleine spends hanging on the telephone, my thoughts turned to how she’d react if Beverly Sutphin called.

Pam Dawber Squints Through Naked Eyes

Pam Dawber is an unlikely voyeur in Through Naked Eyes.

From the earliest Brian De Palma films of the decade through the release of Steven Soderbergh’s sex, lies, and videotape at its end, the ’80s were a time when viewers—many newly equipped with camcorders of their own—began to embrace voyeurism. It was hardly a new cinematic subject, but the kids who’d once giddily delighted in the perverse thrills of Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window (1954) and Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom (1960) were now grown and making their own movies—or at least subscribing to cable TV with the expectation of exposure to similarly titillating content.

For every serious film about voyeurism and surveillance—Blow-up, The Conformist, The Conversation, Blow Out and The Lives of Others, to name a few—there are five more prurient duds like Sliver, many indeed made for cable. Through Naked Eyes (1983), starring Pam Dawber of Mork & Mindy and David Soul of Starsky & Hutch, was produced for ABC, so you can temper your tawdrier expectations: it goes about as far as bare shoulders. A quasi-erotic thriller that’s notably short on eroticism, Eyes holds your attention mostly because of Soul’s intriguingly oddball performance. It also mixes things up a little by making Dawber the more dedicated peeper.

Just the Way You Are: A Different Kind of Comedy

Kristy McNichol disguises her handicap in Just the Way You Are.

“Don’t you sometimes wish you could just meet someone who’d carry you off and take care of you?” Susan Berlanger (Kristy McNichol) asks her friend Lisa (Kaki Hunter) in the opening moments of Just the Way You Are (1984). It’s a funny sentiment coming from a character so ambivalent about all the amorous attention she attracts wherever she goes.

Susan, a flautist about to embark on her first recital tour in Europe, is catnip to men. Her quick wit, adversarial posturing, dazzling smile and structurally complex hair even win admirers over the phone. Jack (Lance Guest of Please Mom, Don’t Hit Me), an answering service operator, is so smitten that he knocks on her door in a gorilla suit. He scampers away just as quickly after noticing her leg brace.

Judith Light’s Lover Befriends Her Ailing Husband in A Strange Affair

Judith Light and William Russ in A Strange Affair (1996).

Adjust your elegantly styled wigs, for we’re about to delve into a scandalous Judith Light romance that’s one of the better TV movies I’ve reviewed here so far, even though no one sleeps with danger or impregnates a nun played by Kristy McNichol. What we have instead is a good old-fashioned tale of a long-suffering wife, Lisa (Light), whose philandering husband, Eric (Jay Thomas), has a debilitating stroke just hours after she finally leaves him. Oh, and the new lover, Art (William Russ), who patiently helps her provide in-home care for her estranged husband even as they’re shunned by friends and family because of their unconventional arrangement.

In Her Defense: A Dreary Canadian Neo-Noir with a Joe Eszterhas Twist

“The hell? Who knew broads could scheme?!”

As Felix Unger taught us lo those many years ago, when you assume you make an ass out of you and me. Reader, here I confess that I made an ass out of us all with this one. After watching Susan Lucci in The Woman Who Sinned, I noticed In Her Defense, another title with a similar plot (adultery, murder, legal jeopardy). It starred Marlee Matlin and Michael Dudikoff, who played the schmuck with whom Lucci sinned, and I thought maybe the films would make a decent double feature.

How wrong I was! By the time I realized this was not a campy TV movie of the week but dreary Canadian direct-to-cable-or-video dreck, I’d invested enough time in watching it that I didn’t want to scrap the whole thing. Gird your loins if you plan to continue reading, because this was brutally bad. Its saving grace was a half-baked lesbian twist that, despite feeling somewhat random, was less than surprising to anyone who has seen Basic Instinct.

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