By Erin Free
In this regular column, we drag forgotten made-for-TV movies out of the vault and into the light. This week: the Eric Roberts double feature of 1988s biographical drama To Heal A Nation and 1992’s thriller Fugitive Among Us.
With Eric Roberts’ new memoir Runaway Train Or, The Story Of My Life So Far having hit shelves recently, this incredibly intense, richly charismatic, highly individualistic, and often polarising American actor has been on our mind of late. Since he exploded onto screens with the coveted lead role in the exemplary 1978 drama King Of The Gypsies, Eric Roberts has given performances like no other actor, taking it right to the edge (and often going over it too) in modern classics like Star 80 (1980), The Pope Of Greenwich Village (1984), and Runaway Train (1985), along with other notable but lesser works like Raggedy Man (1981), The Coca-Cola Kid (1985), Best Of The Best (1989) and Final Analysis (1992). Though his acting career and success long preceded theirs, Eric Roberts is now also principally known as the older brother of superstar Julia Roberts and the father of popular young actress Emma Roberts, as well as for his minor role in Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight.
As well as many, many feature film credits – often in obscure indie films and straight-to-video B flicks – the prolific Eric Roberts has also appeared in a huge collection of telemovies. This actor works a lot, partly as a means of avoiding the temptation of drug use, which has plagued Roberts throughout his very long and chequered career. “I do have an addictive personality,” Roberts says in Runaway Train Or, The Story Of My Life So Far, “which means the best I can do is switch out harmful addictions for more benign ones, like work. I’ve become a workaholic, which has meant taking just about every acting job that came my way, no matter how slight, silly, undignified or harmful to my career it might have been. They tell me it won’t be long now before I’m in The Guiness Book Of World Records for having appeared in the most movies in America…I’m credited with 750 film and television appearances so far. I’m gaining on Kanneganti Brahmanandam, the Indian actor who’s credited with 857 screen appearances. I love acting!”
While there are several major telemovies (and plenty of non-notables too) on Eric Roberts’ almost ridiculously lengthy list of screen credits – including the 1986 thriller Slow Burn (with a very young Johnny Depp), the 1990 Nazi-themed drama Descending Angel with George C. Scott and Diane Lane, and 1996’s In Cold Blood, in which Roberts impressively essays notorious convicted killer Perry Smith – we opted to check out two very different made-for-TV movies that the actor himself chooses to highlight in Runaway Train Or, The Story Of My Life So Far: the 1988 biographical drama To Heal A Nation and the seamy 1992 thriller Fugitive Among Us.
Directed by Unsung Auteur and TV stalwart Michael Pressman (The Great Texas Dynamite Chase, Some Kind Of Hero) and based on the 1985 non-fiction book To Heal A Nation: The Vietnam Veterans Memorial by Jan C. Scruggs and Joel Swerdlow, this modest but important drama sees Eric Roberts taking on a rare, straight-up, decent-man type of role, with the actor’s snaking intensity far more frequently applied to lethal charmers of various shades and colours. That said, Roberts still attacks his role in To Heal A Nation with unmatched vigour, giving the figure of Jan C. Scruggs a sense of energy and non-stop determination that likely come more from Roberts’ own imagination than anything he actually gleaned from the man he’s playing. It’s a typically unusual and highly mannered performance from Roberts, who remains wholly likeable and engaging in the role despite his actorly excesses thanks to his voluble charm.
Jan C. Scruggs is a Vietnam veteran who works hard to fit back into late-1970s society, even while he’s greeted with sneers and jeers by those on the home-front averse to the war. Like many of his fellow veterans, Scruggs feels ignored, abandoned, and ill-treated by both the US Government and his fellow Americans. While most veterans rail vocally about more prosaic matters like getting enough money and support from the government, the flighty, big-thinking Scruggs has considerably more ambitious things on his mind. When he puts forth his idea about creating a memorial in Washington DC for those who served in Vietnam, Scruggs is met largely with hostility by embittered vets with no belief in such a high-tone proposal. Scruggs does find one ally, however, in Vietnam vet and lawyer Bob Doubek (Scott Paulin), who quickly drafts in his friend Jack Wheeler (Marshall Colt), with the trio eventually working together to make their lofty proposal a grounded reality.
From there, To Heal A Nation almost takes on a let’s-put-on-a-show type narrative, as the trio – with the energetic Scruggs (quietly supported by his wife Becky, played by 1970s starlet Glynnis O’Connor in a thankless role) leading the way at every turn – battle scepticism, hostility, and apathy in their mission to make a Vietnam Memorial happen. They sway two Washington politicos, Senator Bob Mathias (Laurence Luckinbill) and Senator John Warner (Linden Chiles), to their cause, and then the ball really gets rolling: Scruggs is hosting radio telethons to raise money, regaling vets at every turn to respond with their support, and even getting involved with billionaire businessman, politico and philanthropist Ross Perot (Conrad Bachmann), a powerful man with a deep interest in The Vietnam War who would, of course, eventually run for US President. Even as Scruggs’ dreams come closer to being a reality, the plans for The Vietnam War Memorial are met with fierce opposition, especially when a controversial design for the monument submitted by Maya Ying Lin (The Karate Kid Part II‘s Tamlyn Tomita) is released publicly.
Though To Heal A Nation certainly has its problems – the low budgets hurts; there is no genuine effort made to create any sense of 1970s period detail; there are moments of manipulative mawkishness that rate as high even by 1980s telemovie standards; and the film is a little under-cast, with a distinct lack of star-power despite featuring many flashy roles – Eric Roberts pushes it valiantly forward with his energy while anchoring it with the palpable sense of decency with which he furnishes Jan C. Scruggs. When the film reaches its finale and the unveiling of The Vietnam Veterans Memorial, it literally hits an emotional crescendo that almost startles with its quiet power. Getting there might be a little rocky at times, but the denouement makes it all worthwhile. “I’m very proud of having done To Heal A Nation, and having opposed the Vietnam War from the start,” Eric Roberts says in his memoir.
Unlike the Roberts-dominated To Heal A Nation, the 1992 thriller Fugitive Among Us is very much a co-lead, with the often-underrated Peter Strauss (who was so good in Michael Mann’s superior 1979 telemovie The Jericho Mile) more than holding his own against noted scene-stealer Roberts. Based on the chapter “Fugitives” from the true crime compendium And Deliver Us From Evil by Mike Cochrane and directed by TV movie regular Michael Toshiyuki Uno, Fugitive Among Us opens with Strauss’ Texas-based detective Max Cole in the middle of a marital crisis, and it only gets worse from there for the veteran cop. Cole has various other skeletons in his closet, and they all come to bear when he’s investigating the violent rape and shooting of a young woman. Hard-bitten Cole soon has gun totin’, lady-charming, wiseass petty criminal and mechanic Cal Harper (Eric Roberts, wholly off the leash) in his sights for the crime and soon affects an arrest. When Harper escapes custody after a court hearing with the help of his lawyer’s sassy, bad girl assistant (well-played by Lauren Holly, who enjoyed a very brief stab at stardom after breaking out on TV’s Picket Fences) and turns fugitive, Cole becomes obsessed with capturing him, to the detriment of his career and standing in the police force.
Fugitive Among Us is a wonderfully entertaining small screen thriller aided immeasurably by a typically imaginative musical score from former Police drummer and Unsung Auteur Stewart Copeland (whose score for Francis Coppola’s Rumble Fish is a true cinematic work of art), the synth washes and heavy bass beats of which both complement the on-screen action and stand on their own as musical suites. And while there is some strong supporting work done in the acting department (Guy Boyd is excellent as Cole’s folksy cop partner, and Elizabeth Pena is striking as a late-piece victim and eventual romantic interest for Strauss’ emotionally battered cop), this is very much about the two leads. Strauss perfectly portrays his character’s suppressed rage and frustration, making Max Cole a compelling figure, even when set against Roberts’ snarling, sleazy, taunting, wise-cracking bad boy, who remains cool despite his early-1990s semi-mullet and high-waisted jeans. It’s great watching these two somewhat (very unjustly) forgotten leading men go toe to toe, particularly with their divergent acting styles, and their scenes together have a real sense of electricity. A wholly forgotten early-1990s gem, Fugitive Among Us is a tight, well characterised drama-thriller that rises impressively above its modest station.
If you’ve exhausted the big screen canon and more noted works of the great Eric Roberts, you’ll find much to enjoy in To Heal A Nation and Fugitive Among Us.
Availability: Both To Heal A Nation and Fugitive Among Us are easy to find online…but they are in fair-at-best shape, particularly the latter.
If you enjoyed this review, check out our other vintage telemovies To Kill A Cop, Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, Police Story: A Chance To Live, Murder On Flight 502, Moon Of The Wolf, The Secret Night Caller, Cotton Candy, And The Band Played On, Gargoyles, Death Car On The Freeway, Short Walk To Daylight, Trapped, Hotline, Killdozer, The Jericho Mile, Mongo’s Back In Town, and Tribes.
