|Idiot's Delight on stage, circa 1958|
His father was an actor too, who began in the Silent Era. Both Robards would begin their film careers as leading men but would quickly settle into the beloved and far more challenging role of character actor. It takes a lot more ability and stealthiness to be able to steal a scene (or an entire movie) out from under the leading man. Robards (the Junior) would soon learn to conquer this feat effortlessly.
Take for instance the way he wrestles the whole film away from Charles Bronson, Claudia Cardinale and Henry Fonda in Leone's standalone Western epic Once Upon a Time in the West. The brilliance of Leone's film, of course, is that it could have very well been a silent movie. The director moves his actors around the canvas like screen-filled Fellini faces, letting their eyes (or slits in Bronson's case) do most of the talking. Man, did Robard's eyes always have a story to tell.
|The Ballad of Cable Hogue (1970) opening titles|
Robards' true calling was the stage. Before he etched out a household name for himself in Hollywood, he was already considered one of the greatest translators and revivalists of playwright Eugene O'Neill's complex body of work. In 1960, Robards strutted into American homes playing Hickey in the famed television Play of the Week The Iceman Cometh. It would prove to be Robard's most lauded performance of all.
|as Cheyenne in Once Upon a Time in the West (1968)|
As a young Naval radioman stationed in the Pacific in 1941, Robards witnessed the aftermath of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor with his own eyes. He would later endure kamikaze aircraft attacks and Japanese torpedoes, one that sunk his heavy cruiser and left him treading water for many hours in the dark. It was on one of these battle ships during WWII that he first picked up a copy of O'Neill's play Strange Interlude. A fated harbinger of things to come.
|as Ben Bradlee|
Robards would also go on to star in a film version of O'Neill's Long Day's Journey Into Night (1962) directed by Sidney Lumet and starring the great Katharine Hepburn and Sir Ralph Richardson. As always, Robards held his own, and somehow managed to best all his heavyweight costars combined. There was just always something about that face, and those eyes. You just believed everything he had to sell.
|illus. by Al Hirschfeld|
He starred alongside a still up-and-coming Jane Fonda in the breezy Any Wednesday (1966) and made his own screen debut as an up-and-comer in The Journey (1959) going toe to toe with Yul Brynner and Deborah Kerr who were reunited on screen following their massive cultural and critical hit The King and I (1956). Robards was let down in the film by some strange direction (Anatole Litvak) but it's fair to say that everyone in the picture was set up to be over shadowed by the crafty star Brynner. It's still an interesting watch.
above left: cover of Theatre Arts magazine with Rosemary Harris, 1959
above right: Robards as Doc Holliday in Hour of the Gun (1967)
In addition to amassing two Academy Awards, a Tony and an Emmy, Robards was also an acknowledged Civil War buff who even supplied the voice of Ulysses S. Grant in Ken Burn's celebrated documentary series The Civil War (1990). Oh, and what a voice he had; sounding something like six cups of coffee and a pack of Chesterfields meets the lead in Don Giovanni. He also made a cameo as Governor Lew Wallace (who wrote Ben Hur: A Tale of the Christ in 1880) in Peckinpah's under-appreciated late masterpiece Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid (1973).
Toward the end, he made appearances in a couple more films directed by one-time pupils of Roger Corman: Jonathan Demme's Philadelphia (1993) and Ron Howard's The Paper (1994). Demme had already directed Robards to a well-deserved Oscar nom in Melvin and Howard, and Ron Howard was reunited with him following Parenthood. Corman also made a small cameo in Philadelphia, as he does in many of the ever grateful Demme's films (Corman famously appears in a photograph on a wall in Demme's Silence of the Lambs, 1991).
Of all Robards' great performances, there is still one that tops them all. His Murray Burns in A Thousand Clowns (1965) is Robard's true show-stopper. It may not be as iconic a work as his Hickey in Iceman, but his Murray Burns, an out of work children's show writer, is to me the most endearing and memorable performance he ever gave. Based on the 1962 play of the same name, Robards recreated his stage role for the film. It's a timeless ode to nonconformity. Playwright Herb Gardner based the role of Murray Burns on his eccentric pal Jean Shepherd, who wrote and narrated the beloved film A Christmas Story (1983).
|as Murray Burns on Broadway|
Gene Saks, another Broadway impresario (known for his Neil Simon stagings) turned film director (The Odd Couple, 1968), has a wonderful supporting role as Murray's former boss, an unfunny children's show entertainer who hates kids. Martin Balsam won a Supporting Actor Oscar for his role as Murray's agent and more responsible brother, Arnold. Balsam was also criticized for not having much screen time, but I defy anyone to criticize his "best possible Arnold Burns" monologue in the film. It's a scene that Robards respectfully lets Balsam carry. It's also one of the most critical moments in the film. Academy voters very wisely took note. The jaunty little film was also nominated for Best Picture but lost to The Sound of Music.
Robards, a Connecticut resident, passed away from lung cancer the day after Christmas '00 at the age of 78. Hollywood and the theatre world still mourn his loss. Whenever I'm down, I always seem to recall the sage advice of Murray Burns as acutely portrayed by Jason Robards:
"I want him to stay awake and know who the phonies are, I want him to know how to holler and put up an argument, I want a little guts to show before I can let him go. I want to be sure he sees all the wild possibilities. I want him to know it's worth all the trouble just to give the world a little goosing when you get the chance. And I want him to know the subtle, sneaky, important reason why he was born a human being and not a chair."
|as Al Capone|