The Last Angry Man

Paul Muni is "The Last Angry Man" in this 1959 film directed by Daniel Mann and also starring Luther Adler, David Wayne, Betsy Palmer and Billy Dee Williams. This has the look and feel of a TV show, and evidently it may have been on Playhouse 90 before being done as a feature film.

The movie is interesting for a few reasons. First of all, it concerns reality television, which is very timely. A producer (David Wayne) takes an interest in an old doctor (Muni) working in a depressed neighborhood and wants to feature him on television. He's a little hard to pin down because he's always running off to take care of one of his patients. Of special concern is a black man (Williams) who has a brain tumor.

The other reason it was interesting to me is that the producer says that 30 million people would see the TV show. He's right - back then, 30 million people could tune in to a television show. A top TV show today can garner 8-10 million viewers.

Paul Muni was an interesting actor - in the 1930s, he basically hid himself in disguises, heavy makeup and costumes in order to create a role; as he proved in films like Scarface and I Was a Fugitive from a Chain Gang, he didn't need to resort to all of that. He was, however, like Luther Adler, a stage actor from another time, and also like Adler, a graduate of the Yiddish theatre, and some of the acting here by the two of them is bigger than what we're used to seeing today, so it comes off as hammy. In one of her classes, Stella Adler said, "You don't know any great actors." That was probably a quote from the 1970s. If we didn't know any great actors in the 1970s, we sure wouldn't know any today if they whacked us over the head. What is great changes; television was one of the big reasons that acting styles changed. Also, many of the characters are overtly Jewish in a way that today may seem stereotypical. It's also fascinating to see a very young Billy Dee Williams in an early role, along with Godfrey Cambridge and Cecily Tyson in smaller parts. Again, some of the depictions here of urban problems come off as overwrought. This is the kind of movie one needs to see in light of the time it was made and not by today's standards to be better appreciated.

PAUL MUNI could always be counted on to give an interesting performance, even if sometimes over-the-top (as he was in A SONG TO REMEMBER as Chopin's mentor). But here, in his last gasp as a screen actor, he does himself proud in an Oscar-nominated performance.

He's a Brooklyn doctor, a dedicated one with his own brand of honest values and not above making house calls when the need arises (a character trait that instantly dates the film). The story of how a clever TV man (DAVID WAYNE) tries to manipulate him in order to tell his life story on TV, is told in a very straightforward way with no unusual sub-plots or other distractions so that it ends up as a no frills entertainment and a time capsule of the late '50s-era Brooklyn, as well.

Interesting to note some top featured players had bit roles here. Television's BETSY PALMER has a more substantial part, but BILLY DEE WILLIAMS, CICELY TYSON, LUTHER ADLER, GODFREY McCAMBRIDGE and CLAUDIA McNEIL all make brief appearances.

Muni's performance was up against Charlton Heston's BEN-HUR--otherwise there's a strong possibility he might have won another Best Actor Oscar.

Directed with a sense of style by Daniel Mann and adopted by Gerald Green from his novel--and yet, oddly enough, it has the feel of a teleplay adapted for the screen.

The Last Angry Man explores the themes of living with integrity and not being corrupted or co-opted by the world's materialism. Paul Muni plays a Jewish doctor living in a Brooklyn neighborhood that has, to use a euphemism, changed. He continues to treat the neighborhood's residents for minimal fees, including a very young Billy Dee Williams, who plays a gang-banger, angry at the world, who Muni believes has a brain tumor.

Muni's nephew is an aspiring journalist who is caught up in glitz and glamor. When Muni saves the life of a young black woman who has been dumped on his doorstep after an assault, his nephew senses an opportunity and writes the story in the newspaper. A television producer picks up on it and sees profiling Muni on his new television program as his ticket to fame.

Muni's character is really too complex to portray completely in this film, but the interplay between the doctor and his patients portrays him as both compassionate and moral. He relates on a spiritual level to the character Billy Dee Williams plays, sensing that both of them are rebelling in their own ways against injustice and abuses of power. Dr. Abelman's last act is to visit Williams in jail rather than proceed with his greatly anticipated television appearance, reinforcing his determination to live a life of integrity and in the words of Thoreau (an author quoted frequently throughout the film), "march to the beat of a different drummer."

Paul Muni is excellent as a doctor in Brooklyn. I remember doctors like him, from when I was a child. They'd leave their dinners to get cold if a patient needed help. Now they mostly give three minutes of their time at most.

The family is allowed to be clearly Jewish. I wonder, though, what the word galoot is about. Muni keeps using it. I think of it as a sort of comic strip term, like calling a boxer a big galoot. Luther Adler, as his friend, another doctor, using some Yiddish.

David Wayne is thoroughly convincing as the crass TV man who decides doc's story would sell pills for his network's sponsor. Everyone is good, really,.

Though the patient we see Muni treating is black, it is not a forced racial drama. His played by Billy Dee Williams and the fine Claudia McNeil is his mother.

I feel this movie tugging on my sleeve and saying, "Hey! Hey! Look how significant I am!" It isn't a great movie but it does its job well and Muni is superb.

The Last Angry Man marks the farewell big screen appearance of Paul Muni who had been for about a dozen years concentrating on his stage career. Muni goes back to his roots in this one playing an elderly Jewish doctor in a mixed Brooklyn neighborhood of 1959. He upholds a lot of values that the present generation seems to have lost. He's a man content to be a general practitioner and even makes house calls. He lives with wife Nancy Pollock and nephew Joby Baker.

Baker is an aspiring journalist and writes a story about his uncle when he saves a young black woman played by an unknown Cicely Tyson at the time. A local paper picks it up and it comes to the attention of TV producer David Wayne who thinks the doctor might be a good subject for a television documentary.

Wayne gets a lot more than he bargained for, Muni is quite the opinionated crusty old soul and not willing to just go on the air like a Queen for a Day contestant. He likes his life the way it is, doing good work for it's own reward and enough to live on. This puts him in conflict with Baker and with Wayne who are a pair that could have been working models for Budd Schulberg's Sammy Glick. People like that who want a quick buck without the work, Muni calls galoots and they seem to be multiplying in his life.

Daniel Mann directs a finely tuned cast in support of Paul Muni's swan song. This film marks an early appearance of Billy Dee Williams as a brain tumor stricken teenager who his mother, Claudia McNeil brings to Dr. Muni for help. Muni of course takes him to his lifelong friend, a Park Avenue neurosurgeon played by Luther Adler.

Adler has one of his great screen roles also here. He and Muni both went way back over 40 years to the Yiddish Theater on New York's Lower East Side. That helps in both of their performances as lifelong friends and colleagues because they actually were.

Others of note in the cast are Dan Tobin as the sleazy network executive Betsy Palmer as Wayne's supportive wife and Robert F. Simon as the head of the drug company that would sponsor the show.

It's Paul Muni's show and a really grand farewell to one of the finest actors ever.