Some actors are deemed to be "great" due to their public stature and popularity. But some unsung actors can be considered truly great by the simple, honest, natural, consistent excellence of their craft-- and Mr. Stone was certainly in this latter group.
"Apprentice Doc" is Milburn Stone's finest hour and, arguably the highpoint in Gunsmoke's 20-year run. Kathleen Hite's script is absolutely flawless. No need to go into detail, but the pacing and progression of each scene are perfectly gauged to carry the viewer along in preparation for the emotional crush of the final scenes. And once again, Harry Harris responds to the superb script, as his direction reveals unexpected depth and insight into the characters and their relationships; within a few minutes, you feel totally engrossed in the drama.
The dialog scenes between Ben Cooper and Milburn Stone unfold in a totally natural, unaffected and compelling way. Stone positively radiates emotion, but in the simplest, most understated way imaginable. A brilliant, Emmy-quality performance.
PITT: "Doctor Adams, I don't know what to say." DOC: "Well, that's good--then you don't have to say it"
A wise but humorous reply from Doc, which will take on an entirely new meaning in the show's final minutes. And the operating scene in Doc's office, with Pitt observing his very first surgery, is marvelous to behold. With the camera positioned in front of and slightly below the two actors, Stone and Cooper pull off this intense scene in a SINGLE shot, with absolutely no musical underscore. It is a stunning--- but, once again, totally natural and understated--- textbook lesson in the art of acting for the camera. You'd SWEAR Milburn was actually cutting bullets out of the guy lying on the table.
One more observation: Milburn Stone seems to physically age 20 years in his final on-screen moments, beginning with his pulling himself up from the kneeling position alongside Ben Cooper. And he barely says a word.
"APPRENTICE DOC" has to be rated as one of the all-time most powerful 50 minutes in TV history. Brilliant in every respect, and near-miraculous considering the grind of turning out a weekly hour-long show every week.
A note about Van Cleave's original score for this episode, composed in the rather gray, dense, "modernist" mode that I usually associate with CBS's Rene Garriguenc. Listen for the one truly outstanding moment in the music; as Doc walks to his office at night and finds Pitt sleeping under the stairs, we hear an ominous, slow moving pattern in the cellos and basses, over which drifts the distant sound of a saloon piano, echoing in the darkness from afar, but subtly coordinated with the bass figure. It's almost surreal.
ALSO-- watch for Miss Kitty's "spit take"--almost. She and Chester are chatting, and as she starts to take a swig of beer, Chester says that he's "the LAST person to be meddling" in anybody else's affairs, at which point Amanda Blake chokes and coughs her beer back into her glass, then continues to sputter until the scene ends.
I tell ya, this episode's got something for everybody-- especially lovers of great, emotional drama.
FIRST-RATE.
LR
