Walter Matthau Makes House Calls With Glenda Jackson

Walter Matthau as a widower.

Relationship comedies were all the rage in the late 1970s. Jill Clayburgh played a woman who becomes suddenly single when her husband of 16 years leaves her in An Unmarried Woman (1978). Burt Reynolds was a divorced man struggling to get over his ex-wife in Starting Over (1979). And in the film we're discussing today, Walter Matthau starred as a recently-widowed surgeon in House Calls (1978).

He plays middle-aged Charley Nichols, who returns to work after three months to find that women suddenly find him irresistible. Initially, the newly-single Charley embraces his situation, even though the one-night stands seem to be based on physical attraction only (at least, from his side). That changes when he meets Ann Atkinson (Glenda Jackson), a bright, opinionated divorcee.

Glenda Jackson as Ann.

He first encounters her in the hospital when he suspects her condition has been misdiagnosed by Dr. Willoughby, the senile chief of staff. Charley takes over her case--though it proves costly. To avoid an ethics charge, Willoughby forces Charley to nominate him for another five-year term as chief of staff.

A few weeks later, Charley and Ann meet again on a public television panel show about healthcare. Sparks fly between them and they soon enter into a trial relationship--but Charley isn't sure he wants to make a long-term commitment.

There's nothing surprising about House Calls, a predictable romantic comedy from start to finish. Thus, it's up to the stars to make it entertaining and, in this case, the unlikely casting of Walter Matthau and Glenda Jackson is pure genius. Matthau made a career of playing slobs, con artists, and villains in the 1960s, but he was not a novice as a romantic lead. He proved in Cactus Flower (1969) and Pete 'n' Tillie (1972) that he could appeal to the opposite sex as a gruff, but likable and decent guy.

Matthau and Jackson have chemistry.

Glenda Jackson also dabbled in romantic comedy prior to House Calls (e.g., A Touch of Class with George Segal). Still, her career was noted for dramatic performances in challenging films like Mary, Queen of Scots (1971) and Women in Love (1969). A great actress defies genres, though, and Glenda Jackson could have made a career as a comedienne. One of the best scenes in House Calls is a delightful display of physical comedy as Ann and Charley try to prove--after watching an old movie--that a couple can make love on a bed with each partner keeping one foot on the floor.

Carney as Dr. Willoughby.

House Calls is basically a four-character picture, with Art Carney and Richard Benjamin in the other two roles. Carney has fun as the aforementioned Dr. Willoughby, whose fading memory causes him to get almost everyone's name wrong. Benjamin plays Matthau's chum, delivering an understated (for him), effective performance.

Of course, the reason to see House Calls is to watch Matthau and Jackson together. They paired up again two years later in Hopscotch, which I recall liking quite well (I plan to watch it again soon). Incidentally, the politically active Jackson quit acting in 1992 and was elected to Britain's Parliament. I once e-mailed her about a possible interview about her film career. One of her staffers sent a polite response, stating that she doesn't discuss her movies any more.

12 Days of Christmas: Art Carney Plays Santa in Rod Serling's "The Night of the Meek"

This is Mr. Henry Corwin, normally unemployed, who once a year takes the lead role in the uniquely popular American institution, that of the department-store Santa Claus in a road-company version of 'The Night Before Christmas'. But in just a moment Mr. Henry Corwin, ersatz Santa Claus, will enter a strange kind of North Pole which is one part the wondrous spirit of Christmas and one part the magic that can only be found... in the Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling’s introduction of one of his most beloved Twilight Zone episodes sets the stage for a touching Christmas tale starring Art Carney as Henry.

The opening scene finds a department store Santa missing—much to the dismay of waiting children and their parents. Alas, it turns out that Henry, still dressed as Santa, is downing drinks at a depressing bar. On his return to the store, the manager berates Henry, calling him “a wino who’d be more at home with Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer.” When a mother also realizes that Henry is drunk, she chides him: “You ought to be ashamed.”

“I am ashamed,” admits Henry, who realizes he is “an aging, purposeless relic.”

But Henry feels no sorrow for himself. Rather, he is saddened that he cannot bring joy to the “hopeless and dreamless” who live in poverty in the tenements (the “meek” of the title). Henry feels that Christmas should come with patience, charity, compassion, and love.

After being fired from his Santa job and booted out of the bar, Henry wanders the city’s snowy streets…then hears the sound of jingle bells in an alley. When he investigates, a cat jumps out of the shadows, and a large bag filled with gifts lands on the ground. Henry picks it up and subsequently makes this Christmas Eve an unforgettable experience for “the meek” and for himself.

In The Twilight Zone Companion, producer Buck Houghton says that Serling wrote this episode “because he wanted to see Art Carney as Santa.” In doing so, Serling provided Carney with one of his most memotable roles. Carney brings out the hopelessness of Henry as a drunk and then his joy as a gift-giving Santa. There are also a couple of quietly humorous scenes in which Carney gets to display his wonderful comedic talent.

"The Night of the Meek" ranks with Serling’s best Twilight Zone episodes. It could easily have been overly sentimental and “too cute.” But Serling, Carney, and director Jack Smight find just the right tone. The opening scenes border on bleak and the later ones contain just the right amount of whimsical magic. The ending isn’t a surprise, but that doesn’t diminish its effect.

Serling’s closing narration is one of my favorites (the last sentence was edited out of repeats of this episode): A word to the wise to all the children of the twentieth century, whether their concern be pediatrics or geriatrics, whether they crawl on hands and knees and wear diapers or walk with a cane and comb their beards. There's a wondrous magic to Christmas and there's a special power reserved for little people. In short, there's nothing mightier than the meek. And a Merry Christmas, to one and all.

If you’ve never seen "The Night of the Meek," click here to view the full episode online for free at CBS.com.