by Stephen Vagg
In 1991, when Tonight Live with Steve Vizard ruled the ratings, Cliff Robertson was in Australia making Wind, that American Cup film where Australians are the baddies because the Yanks are just such a nation of underdogs. Anyway, Robertson made a guest appearance on Tonight Live, but not as himself – rather, as Cliff Robertson’s stand in, so the joke was Robertson was not playing Robertson. The actor pulled it off with a lot of finesse – indeed, from memory, it went down so well with the audience that Robertson was called back to appear on the show later. Robertson was clearly a man with a healthy sense of humour about himself and his odd place in the hierarchy of Hollywood – which he probably needed, since for around thirty years, Robertson was almost a star but not quite.
He was born in 1923, into fairly affluent circumstances, although his family situation wasn’t easy: Robertson’s parents divorced when he was one, his mother died when he was two and his father was rarely around. He served in the merchant marine during World War Two, then dallied with journalism before eventually going into acting.
Robertson was capital “S” Serious about the acting craft, which in the 1950s meant that he went to New York rather than Hollywood. He studied at the Actors’ Studio and appeared in a lot of television and theatre. One of those plays was a revival of The Wisteria Trees by Joshua Logan, who was directing a film version of William Inge’s stage play Picnic (1955) – this led to Robertson being cast in that movie as the best friend of William Holden, and losing his girlfriend Kim Novak to him. This role had been played on Broadway by Paul Newman who wasn’t available for the film, so Robertson stepped in – and the movie was a huge hit. So, Robertson didn’t make his first film until he was over thirty but he was launched with a bang.
Columbia Studios, which had financed Picnic, signed Robertson to a long-term contract. He had a splendid sophomore film in Autumn Leaves (1956), playing the unstable younger lover of Joan Crawford, directed by Robert Aldrich – one of those “I married an abusive husband but it wasn’t his fault he hit me” movies, which probably inspired countless women to stay in toxic relationships, but for all that quite an entertaining film.
On Broadway, Robertson did a Tennessee Williams play, Orpheus Descending (later filmed as The Fugitive Kind – Robertson had the part played on screen by Marlon Brando).
Robertson’s next two films were at RKO, and both would have sounded promising but neither turned out that well or found large audiences (something that would become a recurring theme of Robertson’s film career). These were The Naked and the Dead (1958), from Norman Mailer’s classic novel (Charles Laughton was going to direct, which would have been amazing, but The Night of the Hunter didn’t make enough money so Raoul Walsh stepped in), and The Girl Most Likely (1958) a Jane Powell musical (Mitchell Leisen’s last feature and the last film produced by RKO Radio Pictures).
TV was more rewarding for Robertson – in particular, he originated the part in The Days of Wine and Roses, alongside Piper Laurie and John Frankenheimer (who had a steamy affair during rehearsals, a fact we throw in here just to add some sex to this piece).
Robertson did have a big hit with Columbia’s Gidget (1959) as Kahuna, the king of the surf bums, used by Gidget (Sandra Dee) to make Moondoggie (James Darren) jealous; there’s a finale where Kahuna’s tempted to root Gidget, who is lying breathless in his lap, but he tears himself away – how noble! – then gets a grown up job (as a pilot, presumably an addition from Robertson, who was an enthusiastic aviator in his spare time). Robertson’s role in Gidget’s success was under-rated – he added an extra level of gravitas not present in the sequels or indeed in most beach movies. He did a war film, Battle of the Coral Sea (1959) from Paul Wendkos, who Quentin Tarantino champions, then made a little-known film in Europe, As the Sea Rages (1959).
By this stage, Robertson was known, recognised, and respected, but seemed unable to transition to the top level of stardom. He was in All in a Night’s Work (1961) with Dean Martin and Shirley MacLaine, had the lead in Sam Fuller’s Underworld USA (1961), and played Esther Williams’ leading man in the big top drama The Big Show (1962). None of these were particularly popular but Robertson then had a huge “sleeper” hit with The Interns (1962), playing one of several medical students – his character gets kicked out for trying to procure his girlfriend’s abortion (The Interns is actually a really good movie).
Playing Debbie Reynolds’ leading man in My Six Loves (1963) would have seemed a safe choice (Broadway legend Gower Champion making his first film as director), but it flopped. Throughout all this time, he kept busy on TV in shows like Twilight Zone, Playhouse 90, the US Steel Hour, and The Outer Limits.
Roberton’s career seemingly seemed received another boost when personally approved by President John F Kennedy to play a young Kennedy in PT109 (1963), the story of Kennedy’s boat sinking in World War Two, complete with a cameo from an Australian coastwatcher. This earned Robertson a lot of publicity (he was selected over Warren Beatty and Peter Fonda), but the resulting film was not only troubled – director Lewis Milestone was sacked during shooting – it wasn’t good; Robertson did as well as he could in an impossible role, staring off into the distance, as if wondering how he’ll redecorate the Oval office, but he had nothing to act.
Robertson also missed out on the 1963 film version of Days of Wine and Roses to Jack Lemmon – whose first wife Cynthia Stone was, oddly, once married to Cliff Robertson. Incidentally, Robertson’s second wife was actor Dina Merrill.
The public did like Robertson as a second lead – as proved by the popular Sunday in New York (1963), where he played Jane Fonda’s brother, cockblocking her attempts to root Rod Taylor. He then reminded everyone what a good actor he could be with a fantastic performance in The Best Man (1964) from Gore Vidal’s play, playing the slimy Richard Nixon-esque presidential candidate. Robertson made an outstanding villain – there was something sinister in his persona which could be used for excellent effect – and he might have become a bigger star had he played more heels in the 1960s. He was certainly more compelling as a baddie than as a stock leading man, as proved by his “fine but not much more” performance as an American flier in 633 Squadron (1964), a guys on a mission movie much beloved by aviation buffs, a big hit in Britain and an influence on Star Wars. He was Lana Turner’s leading man in the melodrama Love Has Many Faces (1965).
Frustrated at the progress of his career, Robertson decided to develop his own material and optioned the novel Flowers for Algernon from Daniel Keyes, which Robertson had done on television (as The Two Worlds of Charlie Gordon) – the story concerned a developmentally delayed man who finds his IQ tripled after an operation. Looking for a cheap screenwriter, he hired novelist William Goldman, who had never written a script before but whose recent novel No Way to Treat a Lady Robertson had admired. Before Goldman had even submitted his Flowers script, Robertson was then cast in the spy movie Masquerade (1965), replacing Rex Harrison; Robertson recommended Goldman be brought in to Americanise the dialogue for him (he’d gotten Howard Koch to perform this function on 633 Squadron), and thus earned Goldman his first screen credit. Robertson subsequently didn’t like Goldman’s Flowers for Algernon script, and hired Stirling Silliphant to do a new version, but Robertson was responsible for launching Goldman’s screenwriting career.
Masquerade isn’t very good, incidentally – there’s some clever twists and Marisa Mell is hugely fun, but it’s emotionally hollow at the core, there’s no stakes, and Robertson simply doesn’t have the personality to carry the movie on charm alone. To be interesting on screen, he had to play something meaty – he couldn’t act as “himself” the way, say Jack Lemmon could.
Robertson made two films for Fox, both disappointing: a war film, Up from the Beach (1965), and a Joseph Mankiewicz adaptation of Volpone, The Honeypot (1967), where Robertson was miscast. He was in another war film, The Devil’s Brigade (1968), playing a Canadian opposite William Holden – this again underperformed commercially, although a hit in Britain.
Robertson’s luck finally turned with the Algernon project, now called Charly (1968) – directed by Ralph Nelson, which was a critical and commercial hit, and Robertson won the Best Actor Oscar. So, he was a star, finally, it seemed. Or was he?
Robertson spent his post-Charly chits on an aviation film that he planned to star in and direct: I Shot Down the Red Baron, a comedy about the Red Baron only… he’s gay! It doesn’t sound exactly like the most promising idea in the world, but who knows, it might have been something watchable; Cinemara agreed to finance the shooting of aerial footage but didn’t want to proceed with the rest of the film, and it was never made. Robertson wound up firing his then agent, David Begelman, for siding with Cinerama in the subsequent dispute.
Charly had been financed by ABC Pictures which insisted Robert Aldrich used Robertson in the guys on a mission war movie, Too Late the Hero (1970). Aldrich disliked Robertson’s performance so much that he wound up giving more time in the film to Michael Caine and slagging off Robertson in interviews. Robertson does seem a little bored in Too Late the Hero, but the fact is, the movie is really, really nihilistic and it’s hard to see how a perkier actor would have changed that. While the film flopped in the US, it was a huge hit in Britain: Robertson’s third war movie where that was the case.
Robertson later said that he turned down parts in The Anderson Tapes, Straw Dogs and Dirty Harry (not sure what part in the latter… maybe the killer?). Instead, he did his own film, JW Coop (1971), a drama about a rodeo rider, which he starred in, co-wrote and directed. It came out the year a rash of rodeo movies were released (Junior Bonner, The Honkers) – this was in the wake of The Last Picture Show – and they all flopped too. (Our theory, for what it’s worth – audiences were moved/titillated by the sexual antics of young people in The Last Picture Show, but not by that of middle aged movie stars in those rodeo movies.)
Robertson played Cole Younger in The Great North Minnesota Raid (1972) from Phil Kaufman, a pilot in Ace Eli and Rodger of the Skies (1973) from a story by Steven Spielberg, Man on a Swing (1974) from director Frank Perry, a man unable to resist the lure of nubile Susan George in Out of Season (1975). He hadn’t been in a decent hit since Charly but Robertson then had two hits: Three Days of the Condor (1975), where he was a memorable baddy (a support part), and Brian de Palma’s Obsession (1976), a riff on Vertigo with Genevieve Bujold. The success of the latter was marred through clashes between De Palma and Robertson; the director disliked the actor, blaming him for being unable to get the anguish of the character.
Robertson played leads in some features that disappeared: Shoot (1976) and Dominique (1978). As was the case throughout his career, Roberston found better roles on television: Man Without a Country (1973), A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (1974), Return to Earth (1976) (as Buzz Aldrin), Washington Behind Closed Doors (1977). He starred in and co-wrote The Pilot (1980), playing an alcoholic pilot, taking over the directing during filming – but the film was plagued with problems and unpaid debts and not many people saw it. He sought finance to make Charly 2 for many years but had no luck.
Robertson felt his career was damaged by an incident that happened in 1977 when he discovered that his signature had been forged on a ten thousand dollar cheque by Columbia Pictures head David Begelman, Robertson’s former agent. This triggered a scandal captured in the book Indecent Exposure (1982), which resulted in Begelman’s firing and re-hiring and Columbia’s president Alan Hirschfield being fired. Robertson claimed that the incident led to him being blackballed in Hollywood; sometimes these claims are actor paranoia, but we are inclined to believe it, although it is likely that the situation was exacerbated by Robertson’s string of ‘70s flops and the dramas with The Pilot.
From the 1980s onwards, Robertson’s film career was almost entirely as a support actor. He played a lot of villains/authority figures, in movies like Brainstorm (1983), Class (1983), Malone (1987) and Escape from LA (1996); he was a memorable Hugh Hefner in Bob Fosse’s Star 80 (1983), played the lead in the Kiwi-sploitation Shaker Run (1985) and continued to have leads in TV movies like Ford the Man and Machine (1987). His career got a boost playing Uncle Ben in Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man. He was employed until his death in 2011; a daughter predeceased him.
Cliff Robertson had a sixty year career which in itself is an amazing achievement. Plenty of terrific performances, an Oscar, all that. But what to make of Robertson the movie star?
Well, the public did like Robertson in some roles – Charly most notably, but also efforts like Picnic, The Best Man, Gidget, The Interns, Three Days of a Condor, Obsession. These were either (a) character type roles (b) villains (c) support parts in which Robertson wasn’t a “charm star” like, say, Paul Newman or Steve McQueen – people weren’t willing to watch him just hang out – but that is the rarest kind of star there is. His television record is spectacular. Several of his war films were really popular in Britain (633 Squadron, Devil’s Brigade, Too Late the Hero).
His career was hurt a lot by bad luck. It sounds odd when you consider that he started with Picnic but he missed out on roles that he’d originated like Days of Wine and Roses and The Fugitive Kind; Charles Laughton dropped out of The Naked and the Dead; he was in a wide range of “commercial/safe” movies (popular co-stars, great directors, broad appeal genres, big genres) that flopped and/or underperformed: All in a Night’s Work, My Six Loves, PT109, Love Has Many Faces, Masquerade, Up from the Beach, The Honey Pot, The Devil’s Brigade, Too Late the Hero). His passion project follow ups to Charly were not popular: JW Cooper, The Pilot.
Still, even if Robertson was not quite a star, he had a hell of a career.
