Tag Archives: Tresa Hughes

The Hospital-1971

The Hospital-1971

Director Arthur Hiller

Starring George C. Scott, Diana Rigg

Scott’s Review #1,369

Reviewed June 11, 2023

Grade: A

An example of the freedom to craft one’s vision in cinematic works during the first half of the 1970s, The Hospital (1971) is a testament to creativity and exceptional writing, and to what can happen when studios and producers leave the creatives alone to make the film they want to make.

One can dismiss any preconceived notions of the classic medical dramas that flooded television networks during the 1970s and 1980s. The Hospital is not formulaic or contrived.

No, The Hospital is a dark work drooling with satirical examples of the politics and shenanigans within the medical community. Oftentimes, secondary activities come at the cost of reasonable care and quality medicines.

Before you imagine a doctor and nurse cavorting in a janitor’s closet, it’s a deeper film than it appears on the surface, despite the inclusion of witty comedy.

Lax patient care, staff deaths, and the dismissal of nearby residents because of a new drug rehabilitation project are explored in this fascinating film.

At a rundown Manhattan teaching hospital, chief of staff Herb Bock (George C. Scott) is riddled with multiple personal and professional problems after two doctors and one nurse are found dead almost simultaneously.

He assumes the rash of deaths is due to dimwitted staff who are overworked amid the chaos.

Suicidal, he meets the intelligent daughter of a patient who knocks him off his feet with her studious personality and reflections on the world. Diana Rigg plays Barbara Drummond.

The immediately noticeable, clever, well-paced screenplay is by Paddy Chayefsky, who won the Oscar for writing the film. Immediately, the chaos of a city hospital is exposed, but not in a cliched way like a series like ER or Grey’s Anatomy might show.

Nobody is going into cardiac arrest on the operating table or having convulsions in the waiting room amid lame dramatic music.

The Hospital is more cerebral than that.

Unknown patients and little-known hospital staff go about their everyday business like clockwork until confusion with daily tasks causes events to go awry.

Like real-life.

The brilliance is how director Arthur Hiller casts regular-looking actors in almost all the roles. They look and act like everyday hospital staff to set the proper tone. This is even before we meet and get to know Herb and Barbara. They answer phones, walk around with charts, and hustle after emergencies.

Chayefsky and Hiller mirror director Robert Altman in many ways, mostly in their dialogue and in how seemingly unimportant scenes can mean a whole lot.

In robust soliloquy-style scenes between Herb and Barbara, the audience ‘gets them’. They are both desperate, wounded, and unhappy yet possess the sophistication and awareness to realize how similar they are.

They immediately connect, fall in love, and nearly run off together. It’s that simple. They are willing to flee their lives after meeting for five minutes. But will they ultimately take that plunge?

A key character is revealed to be Barbara’s father, and a whodunit begins after it comes to light that the deaths are not accidents. Who is responsible and what their motivation is is the key to the story.

Scott does terrific work with his character, rivaling his excellent performance a year earlier in Patton (1970). Herb is more introspective with the world on his shoulders.

The Hospital has more than one daring scene. Herb, though impotent, basically throws Barbara down on the table and rapes her. The shocker is that she makes light of it the next day and almost seems to have enjoyed it.

Barbara and Herb are both complex characters that the audience needs to ruminate over.

My favorite part of The Hospital (1971) is the setting. That Hiller puts you inside what a real urban hospital was like in 1971 is brilliance. The satire comes into play with the writing, which questions decision-making and incompetence within the hospital walls.

The result is a scathing look at hospital practices that will resonate with anyone terrified of entering a hospital, only never to come out again.

Oscar Nominations: 1 win-Best Actor-George C. Scott, Best Original Screenplay (won)

Fame-1980

Fame-1980

Director Alan Parker

Starring Lee Curreri, Irene Cara

Scott’s Review #1,143

Reviewed May 18, 2021

Grade: A-

Fame (1980) is a high school musical drama centered on the trials and tribulations of gifted New York City kids. Anyone with musical, theatrical, or dance talent can relate to the film.

The rest of us can merely live vicariously through these kids and the potential careers that lie ahead of them, wishing we had half of their talent and drive.

This is not your standard musical from the 1950s or 1960s, and the pace is quite frenetic. Fasten your seatbelts because there is a lot packed in.

The film oozes with an upbeat musical score and the flavor of New York City, quite gritty and dangerous, circa 1980.

The now-legendary musical numbers, in which the cast dances together with faculty and strangers alike atop Manhattan taxi cabs, are silly beyond belief.

Still, the title song by star Irene Cara is a danceable and hummable classic.

These scenes offset the muscular, dramatic scenes with lightness and comedy, but they also diminish the credibility of the serious moments.

Events get off to a chaotic start as we witness a mass of teenagers frenetically scrambling to memorize audition lyrics and dance numbers as they vie for entry into the High School of Performing Arts, with free admission reserved only for the cream of the crop.

The film chronicles the lives of the lucky from their auditions through their first, second, junior, and senior years.

The main group features Montgomery MacNeil (Paul McCrane), a closeted gay male; Doris Finsecker (Maureen Teefy), a shy Jewish girl; Ralph Garci (Barry Miller), and Bruno Martelli (Lee Curreri), an aspiring keyboardist whose electronic equipment horrifies the conservative music teachers.

They align with Lisa Monroe (Laura Dean), Coco Hernandez (Irene Cara), and Leroy Johnson (Gene Anthony Ray), a gifted dancer who cannot read.

All have interesting backstories or problems to work through over the course of their four years in school, and this is the film’s main appeal. The dance numbers, of course, are fabulous too.

I immediately became enamored with sensitive Doris, whose mother’s (Tresa Hughes) emotions elicit viewer emotion simply with her own emotions. Her passion for her daughter and her talent are infectious.

Alan Parker, who directs Fame, offers extremely heavy topics that the students must face. It’s not all fun and dance. The youngsters grapple with issues such as homosexuality, abortion, interracial dating, class systems, attempted suicide, and illiteracy.

Their pain is readily offered to audiences who become entangled in their worlds.

A downside is that, as many issues are brought to the forefront, the sheer number of them leads to few resolutions.

On top of their unique struggles, the students must deal with the mundane pressures of adolescence, such as homework, heartbreak, and rejection. Their talent doesn’t make them any more special than anyone else in the growing-up department.

My favorite moments in Fame are the quiet ones. When Doris and Montgomery share a chat on the stairs that skirts around the talk of his absent mother, I thought what a delightful couple they would make.

Montgomery’s repressed sexuality slowly surfaces while Doris develops a crush on an older, popular boy.

As if the heavy topics eventually subside, they don’t. As the students’ age and start to plan careers, Coco is lured by a man claiming to be a director, only to realize he is a porn film “director”. He coaxes her into taking off her shirt and photographs her sobbing.

The scene is heartbreaking in its power.

The atmosphere of Fame also works well. There is a strong, suffocating heat and humidity. Anyone who has spent time in New York City during the summer months knows the stench and thickness of the stuffy weather.

I got the impression the school had no air conditioning, as evidenced by the music teacher’s running perspiration.

A coming-of-age film that delivers hard-hitting messages only offset by the climactic dance-celebration numbers, Fame (1980) is a winner and gives teen angst its due.

This film ages well and stands the test of time.

Oscar Nominations: 2 wins-Best Original Screenplay, Best Original Score (won), Best Original Song-“Fame” (won), Out Here on My Own”, Best Film Editing, Best Sound