Richard Widmark: A Princeton legend

Richard Widmark made the movie “Road House” (1948), filmed in 1947, with Ida Lupino, Cornel Wild, and Celest Holm; it was just his third movie, and it was another trademark role for him. Widmark plays Jefty Robbins, the unwanted third of a love triangle straight from hell. He loves the girl, and the girl loves the other guy. Jefty has just hired sultry torch singer Lily Stevens (Lupino) from Chicago to sing at his roadhouse near the Canadian border. Jefty’s friend is Pete Morgan (Wilde), the other guy in the triangle, who manages the place for Jefty. When you add a smoky piano lounge, some booze, and feelings of desire with betrayal, you have the plot.

When you watch Widmark in the role of Jefty Robbins he seems pretty normal in the first part of the movie. The scene in the movie where you really get that feeling that there could be someone else just simmering below the surface of his character is called “Breakfast in Bed.” Every time I watch it, I expect it to go in another direction, even though I know it doesn’t. Jefty is going on a hunting trip with friends, but wants to see Lily before he leaves. It is a great scene, and there are many of them in the film. He goes up to Lily’s room at the inn, where she is staying, carrying a tray with breakfast and flowers. Jefty wants to be romantic. He is kind of “warm” for Lily.

It’s 7 a.m. on a Sunday morning. He knocks, enters her room, sets down the tray and wakes her up. She stirs, kind of can’t believe it all, and Jefty has a cup of coffee for her. She lights a cigarette. Lily is somewhat baffled by Jefty being in her room at this hour of the day for her. I think any normal woman would be. Lily has just started working for Jefty, and here he is in her room early on Sunday morning and she is still in bed.

This is still in the late 1940s. The sexual revolution on the silver screen was still just a glimmer on the far horizon. The movie censors of the mid-1930s had already tightened up the ship, so to speak. Lupino and Widmark are having short lines of conversation, and she tells him, “... You’ve got a screw loose somewhere.” I was waiting for that to set him off. The moment came and went so subtly that you almost miss it, but it was there. The conversation goes on. Jefty tells Lily, “I wanted to tell you something ... you’re not like any other girl ...” The same moment comes and goes again. He pours her more coffee, and Lily is quietly rebuking him and still somewhat bewildered at his being in her room with the flowers and coffee. Jefty finally gets up to leave. “Well so long, sorry I busted in on you.” Lily tries to make him feel better and thanks him for the flowers. The whole scene could have went another direction just like that, but it was too early in the movie. The scene was just letting you know that fireworks were coming down the road, as they do.

You knew that Jefty had a dark side just waiting to emerge in a rush. This was Richard Widmark. This was Tommy Udo, the guy who pushed an old lady down the stairs after tying her in her wheelchair in "Kiss of Death" (1947). This was the killer, Alec Stiles, from "Street with No Name" (1948). The audiences of back then knew what was coming. They could feel it. They expected it. They didn't even have to catch the subtle hints that were a part of his acting method. Richard Widmark would continue to make more movies, and the characters that the movie audiences came to expect from him were slowly pushed below the surface. This is why his star was rising. This is why people came to see him on the screen.

He always had that something just below the surface, and one never knew for sure when it would emerge. It was kind of like going to the auto races, with the thought buried somewhere in the back of your mind, that a horrifying, metal ripping screaming pile up just might happen. People don’t watch drivers fly around the race track at breakneck speeds just to count the laps. There is that wicked thought that the danger of a fiery grave is waiting at every hairpin curve. That’s why people go to the auto races, so don’t kid yourself. That is exactly what audiences went to see happen when Widmark was on the screen. They wanted and waited for the wreck to happen. They wanted to see Tommy Udo crawl up from beneath the basement stairs. They knew he was there. The best that they would get sometimes though was “The Widmark Look” — that torn between two intentions look, as he continued making more films and getting better roles. He would get to be the hero or leading man as his career progressed, but he would always have a bit of  sadistic Tommy Udo, neurotic Alec Stiles, or the jealously twisted Jefty Robbins just below the surface of his performance that he could summon, or seem to give the moment to, just like that. He was the master at it and never failed to hold the viewers interest.

The range of characters that he could play was broad. He could be twisted or heroic, crazed or gentle as a lamb, and yet he was always believable, even in roles that didn’t seem like a good fit for him. His acting technique was so seamless that it was almost invisible. You had to watch for the “double thing going on.” His no nonsense realism was what made him so watchable on the movie screen.

This no nonsense realism is what may have first held my interest in Widmark’s character, Clint Hollister in “Law and Jake Wade” (1958), that I first saw him in at the age of 10 at the Gran Theater, in Granville, Ill. Robert Taylor was the hero in the movie, but Widmark had that extra thing going on that made him stand out in the movie. There is just something that kind of grabs me when a character has a sense of submerged menace. I never saw the film noir movies that Widmark cut his teeth on and made a name for himself with, at that point in my life. I was just like anyone else in the audience though; I knew there was a wreck coming. I loved watching the bad guy Hollister, didn’t want the movie to end, but knew there was a bullet waiting for him.

The silent movies that he saw as a child with his grandmother, Mary Barr, filled him with unspoken images created by the characters on the screen. All pantomimed to music. He was torn with inner frustration, with the tug of war battle in his home, as a young boy, over how and where he would get his religious education. His first movie roles were of dark complex characters that Widmark could play with almost just his face and leave you wondering if his straight dialogue could change at any moment and turn in another direction. These were just possibly a few of the influences that brought about that “subconscious double thing going on,” as Widmark said and wondered about himself. It is these sometimes subtle moments where you see “The Widmark Look’” and know you are watching an actor in full command of his craft.

I’ll try to have one more Richard Widmark tale yet this year, in a couple of weeks. Maybe for a birthday present. I think there’s two comin’ up — real close together, so I’ll try to give it one more shot.