Requiem for a Heavyweight

Rod Serling's work speaks for itself. Watch this masterpiece of live television and you will appreciate the artist that he was.

It is very interesting that when Rod Serling was given the opportunity to revisit this remarkable play as a theatrical movie after a gap of six years--he chose to make major changes to it in terms of message and tone. While the Playhouse 90 production was sometimes sad, it also was often sweet and optimistic---and finally offered hope that Mountain (Jack Palance) and the sympathetic employment counselor (Kim Hunter) would find a better and brighter future. The feature film took off in a very different direction when reaching its climax, and in doing so the direction of the story often ranged from depressing to despair. Why?

When the Anthony Quinn-Julie Harris version was made in 1962, Serling was deeply involved in crafting The Twilight Zone series--a very major undertaking. But that in itself does not seem to explain how this rather simple and often touching story about several troubled people morphed into a generally downbeat tale that ends with such a negative feeling of loss. It is not difficult to understand why the Playhouse 90 production--even with all its well known creative and technical problems---was such a huge popular and critical success, while the feature film, with its greater invested resources and production values, was unsuccessful at the box office. The latter is actually a difficult movie to watch, with so much unrelieved pain experienced by the characters and audience from beginning to end. What was the point of Serling's decision to tell a quite different story in making the feature film version, and in doing so abandoning the positive possibilities inherent in the television play?

We do know quite a bit about how the Playhouse 90 version came into being. In 1960--four years after it was first broadcast---many of its original creative principals came together once more for a remarkable video reunion that shared that behind the scene tale. The Westinghouse Desilu Playhouse production of The Man In The Funny Suit was an extraordinary television event. The viewer was given the privilege to feel somewhat like "being a fly on the wall" during the creative process that ultimately resulted in the original RFAH. With the participation of original director Ralph Nelson, writer Rod Serling and actors Ed and Keenan Wynn among others, the Desilu drama is probably as definitive an explanation of the story as we are likely to ever receive. It involves serendipity---a fortuitous combination of great talent and good luck during an opportune moment in time, and is well worth your effort to seek it out on YouTube.

When Rod Serling signed on in 1962 to deliver the screenplay for his Playhouse 90 creation RFAH, he could most likely have gone in one of three different ways: (1) essentially draft an expanded replication of the original source material; (2) take the basic dramatic story and invest it with additional "feel good" elements to soften the tale and make it more accessible; or (3) write it to emphasize the heavily dramatic aspects inherent in the play, and then underpin those tragic elements to reinforce the ultimate downbeat conclusion. Perhaps some day we will definitively learn why Serling chose to take the third option in making the feature film.

As for the Playhouse 90 version of RFAH, there is little to add to what has already been said. It was an astonishing achievement during the dawn of the Golden Age Of Television. Jack Palance's performance is probably the finest work of his career--a towering accomplishment. And the Wynns also delivered in roles that represented acting at the highest level. Kim Hunter was most believable in her supporting part, and Ralph Nelson's direction inspired all the creative talent to do their very best to match the quality of Serling's play. Those of us who were fortunate enough to have seen it as a live broadcast probably realized they were witnessing a major event in the history of television. And seeing it again recently in its restored kinescope format fully confirms just how great that moment really was. RFAH set a very high bar for everything that was yet to come from the TV medium. It all began with RFAH!

In this live production in the fantastic series Playhouse 90, Jack Palance shows his hidden acting talents in the drama Requiem for a Heavyweight. Anyone who only knows Jack from City Slickers or his parts in B-westerns needs to see this movie.

Jack is a boxer, and he's just lost a fight, much to the dismay of his manager Keenan Wynn. He's examined by a doctor and told he's taken too many blows and can't fight anymore. As Keenan tries to get more use out of his fighter, Kim Hunter tries to help Jack start a new direction in life. Jack's handler Ed Wynn tries to support both sides of the argument.

Rod Serling's script is very powerful; even when someone is clearly wrong in an argument he's given the opportunity to fully explain his motivations. Everyone gives incredible performances, and it's really sweet to see father and son act together, even though they share some pretty heavy scenes. Both Keenan and Ed show a great depth in their performances, so the audiences can really feel they've seen Jack fight in the ring for fifteen years. Jack Palance's damaged, simple-minded, and at times out of control, performance is heartbreaking. I teared up several times at his realism. He shares a story in which he met a woman for a blind date, and when she saw his face, she left. It's an absolutely tragic story, but even with the fake ears and scar makeup Jack had on his face, he's still very handsome! Besides that one tiny suspension of disbelief, and one woman's flub of her line in the very last scene of the film, it's a pretty flawless movie. If you liked Hemingway's Adventures of a Young Man, or its original The Battler, give this one a watch.

The 1950s was an amazing time for television. There was a proliferation of live teleplays--movies written for television. Some of these productions were actually better than the material coming out in theaters. And, in the case of "Requiem for a Heavyweight", the normal 50 minutes was stretched to 72--allowing for great depth and character development. Fortunately, Criterion has released a set of three DVDs packed with some of the most memorable teleplays.

"Requiem for a Heavyweight" is a pretty ugly teleplay to see today, as it was filmed using the primitive Kinescope method. So, when you watch it, be patient and look past the fuzziness of the print.

This story helped to make Rod Serling famous. If it hadn't been for the success of this story (and the Emmy he won for writing it), he probably never would have gone on to create "The Twilight Zone". The cast is very capable and is made up of Jack Palance as the aging boxer and the father-son teaming of Ed and Keenan Wynn as his cut man and trainer.

The teleplay begins with Palance being taken to the dressing room following a loss. It's rather shocking to see him, as unlike what you'd normally see on TV, Palance is a man bloody and badly beaten--and the makeup job was incredibly good. The fight doctor examines him and announces that the guy is through--14 years of beatings have taken their toll and his career is over. Sadly, after these miserable years, you've got a punch-drunk guy who has less than $100 to his name and no job prospects. In essence, he's been used and is now ready to be tossed out like an old newspaper--and the show is a strong indictment of this dirty 'sport'. In fact, like the best boxing films, it is strongly anti-boxing in its message--and does so unflinchingly. The film really packs an emotional wallop and it tears your guts out watching Palance--who did an incredible job in the lead. It's probably the best thing he ever did--it was that good.

In addition to Palance, the teleplay features some great supporting actors. Keenan Wynn is great as the manager who is practically heartlesss. Ed Wynn is wonderful as the cut man who has trouble living with the guilt for having produced this washed out boxer. Kim Hunter is very nice as a well-meaning employment counselor who is touched by Palance's predicament. And I loved how they also got some real ex-boxers for color--Max Baer and Slapsie Maxie Rosenbloom--both actual ex-champs. Rosenbloom in particular was great, as he really was very punchy in real life--yet despite serious head injuries he had an amazing career in films and as a restaurant owner loved by his patrons for his colorful stories. Here, he tells tales and shows clearly the effects of all the head blows he'd endured.

The overall effect of brilliant writing and acting is probably the best or among the best television had to offer in the 1950s. Despite a few rough aspects (mostly the crappy Kinescope look), it is still an amazing film today because of its unflinching realism. Aside from this, perhaps the only other teleplays that reach this same level of excellent are "Marty" and "Days of Wine and Roses". And, like "Requiem", all three went on to be super-successful movies.

By the way, some other exceptional anti-boxing films that are well worth seeing include: "Champion", "The Harder They Fall" and "The Set-Up". But, of these, I still think "Requiem" is the best...and that's saying a lot. And, I think it's MUCH better than the later movie version starring Anthony Quinn--mostly because the teleplay offers a ray of hope and the movie is just a real downer.

This was a watershed production for American Television. A live broadcast of an intense and moving script. If you love great film and can find a copy to rent, do so. Jack Palance gives the finest performance of his career and the supporting cast is flawless.

The movie version made several years later, and staring Anthony Quinn is quite good, but it doesn't measure up to the original.