The Last Angry Man

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.

Paul Muni came out of retirement from films to make this movie--the first in about a dozen years. According to Robert Osborne (from Turner Classic Movies) this was because Muni was so incredibly difficult to work with that he was virtually blackballed from films. However, you'd never suspect this when you see the film as his performance is flawless. Perhaps it was because Muni might have been playing a part close to heart--a cranky old doctor who was devoted to his patients but also who wasn't afraid to say exactly what was on his mind! The story begins with cranky old Paul having a patient literally dumped on his front steps in the poor part of Brooklyn. You learn that despite working as a doctor for many years, he wasn't concerned with wealth or success as many people would see it. This devotion to duty resulted in a small article in the newspaper and a TV producer (David Wayne) decided an interview show about the doc would be great television. The problem, however, is that cranky old Paul has no interest in fame and getting him to agree to be on TV was a major problem. Just when you think that perhaps he'll finally do the show, other events intercede--leading to a touching but perhaps a bit too melodramatic an ending. I liked the way the film ended but my wife thought it was a bit too much to believe. Regardless, you can't ignore the rest of this lovely film--the acting and writing were exceptional. With minimal stunts and action, the film managed to entertain and make you think.

Overall, a powerful and interesting film that is perhaps marred a tad by a bit too much sentimentality and melodrama--but not so much that you should avoid the movie.

PS--Didn't David Wayne's boss remind you of Larry Tate from "Bewitched"? See the film and you'll understand what I mean.

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.

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.

Paul Muni had long been out of pictures when in the fifties his success on the Broadway stage in 'Inherit the Wind' reawakened Hollywood's interest in him.

Two decades after his thirties heyday when he usually played older than his years, now in the era of television he was actually playing a genuinely old man with the result that his 68 year-old Brooklyn slum doctor Sam Abelman looks hardly distinguishable from his Louis Pasteur.

Some of the attacks the trenchant old codger makes on the drugs company that sponsors his show are still relevant today. Muni wears the makeup which leaves the field clear for David Wayne to play a surprisingly 'straight' role.