Vintage Cable Box: “Silkwood, 1983”

“It doesn’t matter whether you work in plutonium or dog food because they ain’t gonna give you a thing, there’s nowhere left to go! You close this plant down and then what? You’re gonna be up in Washington, but we’re gonna be down here outta work!”

Silkwood, 1983 (Meryl Streep), ABC Motion Pictures

Karen Silkwood is a trouble-maker. At Kerr-McGee, she handles the processing of plutonium and uranium dioxide as it is converted into fuel pellets for nuclear reactors. The interesting idea about Silkwood and her co-workers is that they are not scientists, but technicians working on an assembly line. Nuclear power is a job of work, not ideals and definitely not science. They know enough to do their work, and very little more. She and her co-workers are overworked and underpaid; they complain about having to work extra hours on short notice and the power plant runs efficiently with no-nonsense supervisors and bitchy subordinates.

Though depicted as lazy and irresponsible with self-destructive qualities, Karen (as portrayed beautifully by Meryl Streep) is fiercely independent and defiant (even at the cost of her own safety and well-being). She loves her estranged children, her co-dependent lesbian roommate, Dolly (Cher), and her on-again off-again boyfriend, Drew (Kurt Russell). She almost seems to work hard at making terrible mistakes, which I find oddly fascinating, especially with regard to the way strong female characters are written in films these days. Women written today, by contrast, appear to be perfect, beautiful, patient, and unrealistically saintly creatures. By humanizing a character like Karen Silkwood, we can more readily identify with her and her struggle.

One day, Karen’s co-worker, Thelma, is “cooked”, meaning she’s been exposed to radiation, and is forced to undergo a humiliating cleaning process involving vigorous use of steel wool.  Karen worries about cancer as she relentlessly chain-smokes.  Boyfriend Drew has a plan to one day quit the power plant and set up his own small bait-shop dealership, but Karen thinks he’s just dreaming.  You get the sense most people employed in this part of the Country have very few options.  One night, after cleaning up, Karen tests positive for radiation and is required to provide urine samples for the next few weeks.  She begins to notice her supervisors are falsifying reports and re-touching photographs of faulty welds in fuel rods.  She checks her union manuals, does her homework, and figures out she and her fellow employees are being deceived.

As Kerr-McGee management clamps down on union meetings, Karen decides to take her complaints to Washington and the Atomic Energy Commission.  When she tells her representatives (Ron Silver, Josef Sommer) about the re-touched photographs, they realize they have a case against the plant.  Oddly, the narrative is broken up with episodic moments, such as Dolly’s latest girlfriend, a snooty funeral home beautician (Diana Scarwid), and Karen’s brief dalliance with Ron Silver in Washington and resulting break-up with Drew.  She gathers up enough physical evidence to meet with a reporter from The New York Times, but she never arrives for her interview.   She was found to have died in a mysterious car crash.

Silkwood, the movie, is a strange case.  The movie was given a DVD release, but went out-of-print, and has never enjoyed a Blu-Ray run, though it had been transferred to 1080p for HD broadcast television.  This is a movie that received five Academy Award nominations, including Best Actress, Best Director (Mike Nichols), and Best Original Screenplay (credited to Nora Ephron and Alice Arlen).  Nichols does his usual best (for the time) at letting his actors direct his film.  He gives enormous creative license to Streep, Russell (in his first dramatic role), and Cher in bringing the patina of the surroundings to life.  Rising stars Fred Ward, Craig T. Nelson, Anthony Heald, and David Strathairn all make memorable appearances in the film.

Our first cable box was a non-descript metal contraption with a rotary dial and unlimited potential (with no brand name – weird). We flipped it on, and the first thing we noticed was that the reception was crystal-clear; no ghosting, no snow, no fuzzy images. We had the premium package: HBO, Cinemax, The Movie Channel, MTV, Nickelodeon, CNN, The Disney Channel, and the local network affiliates. About $25-$30 a month.  Each week (and sometimes twice a week!), “Vintage Cable Box” explores the wonderful world of premium Cable TV of the early eighties.

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Vintage Cable Box: “Still of the Night, 1982”

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“I’m a much better shrink than I would have been a second baseman.”

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Still of the Night, 1982 (Meryl Streep). United Artists

Robert Benton is a quiet man. He is not the loud voice in the chorus trying to steal all the attention. He doesn’t speak of style. He doesn’t conduct self-aggrandizing interviews on publicity junkets, hailing the New Cinema (even though he was partially responsible for it) and idolizing Orson Welles and John Ford. He may believe in those ideas to further the success of his movies, but he won’t tell you. He is, for lack of a better word, quiet. As such, I have been quietly impressed, even blown away by his work.

Still of the Night comes out of nowhere in Benton’s body of work, and appropriately, it is representative of a powerful voice that communicates in whispers, not shouts. Roy Scheider plays a New York psychiatrist, whose patient, George Bynum (a creepy Josef Sommer), is murdered. Scheider is visited by the cops, who tell him his life is in danger if he doesn’t break his confidentially about Bynum’s curious quirks. An eerily beautiful Meryl Streep (done up completely as a Hitchcockian ice-blonde, with a temperament to match) plays Brooke Reynolds, Bynum’s lover. Scheider is instantly smitten with her. He tries to provide therapy for her fragile mind because she believes her relief at Bynum’s death makes her emotionally, if not physically, culpable.

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Streep’s performance as the flighty, neurotic Brooke, is a wonderful reminder of her amazing talent. By the time Still of the Night was released, Streep had already appeared in The Deer Hunter, Manhattan, Kramer vs. Kramer, and The French Lieutenant’s Woman, and would appear in Sophie’s Choice and Silkwood. Watching her performance in this one small Robert Benton movie is so much fun. She is so alive as an actor, and demonstrates such strength and intelligence, beauty and vulnerability that she puts most other actors to shame. Other than this movie, my favorite performance of her’s has to be in Albert Brooks’ Defending Your Life.

Roy Scheider is dependable in a largely thankless role designed to provide exposition into the workings of George Bynum’s mind. He has wonderful chemistry with Streep (who wouldn’t?) as well as Jessica Tandy, in a quick bit as his psychiatrist mother (that must’ve been a happy house!). Somewhat unfairly typecast as authority figures after Jaws, Scheider, sometimes successfully, shook those roles, appearing in William Friedkin’s Sorceror and Bob Fosse’s All That Jazz.

Still of the Night is a movie I watch and then I snap my fingers wishing I had thought of it. Robert Benton started in the industry as a writer (with frequent partner David Newman). He authored Bonnie and Clyde, What’s Up, Doc?, and polished the script for the 1978 Superman. He directed Kramer vs. Kramer, and one of my favorite movies of all time, Places In The Heart (which contains the single most staggeringly brilliant final scene of any movie I have ever watched). In 1994, he would direct Nobody’s Fool starring Paul Newman.

Our first cable box was a non-descript metal contraption with a rotary dial and unlimited potential (with no brand name – weird). We flipped it on, and the first thing we noticed was that the reception was crystal-clear; no ghosting, no snow, no fuzzy images. We had the premium package: HBO, Cinemax, The Movie Channel, MTV, Nickelodeon, CNN, The Disney Channel, and the local network affiliates. About $25-$30 a month. Each week (and sometimes twice a week!), “Vintage Cable Box” explores the wonderful world of premium Cable TV of the early eighties.