“We place our faith in their skill. We lay our lives
in their hands. But sooner or later we realize they are only human…and we hope
that they notice we are too.”
I recall so
well this tagline to Randa Haines’ The
Doctor (1991), quietly believing the truth in its sentiment. I didn’t have
a particularly good doctor myself back then, you see. But I was relatively
grateful in the complacent way we all are when good health persists that
prevented me from seeing him as often as I cared to. In more recent times, as
someone who has desperately needed compassionate care, only to discover it in
very short supply from practicing physicians in my own home town, I find
Haines’ movie and its precepts frankly illuminating.
Personally, I
think The Doctor ought to be required
viewing for every medical student currently studying to become the next Albert
Schweitzer. And if I may, before segueing into my review of the film, I should
like to offer a bit of my own advice to the doctors of the world who have
misappropriated their training with a feeling of smug superiority that has
completely obscured the purpose for their practice.
Dear doctors:
your degrees should do something more for humanity than simply afford you a comfortable
lifestyle. The craft of medicine is undoubtedly scientific. But the art of
practicing it should never supersede the understanding that those who come to you
do so out of necessity and quite often anxious desperation, for which you are
required to do more than simply nod and scribble down something that no one
other than a pharmacist can read on a prescription pad.
Ever since I
first saw it I have admired The Doctor
for the valuable lessons learned the hard way by its protagonist, Dr. Jack
MacKee; a self-appointed mandarin of the medical profession who dismisses, and
even more unconscionably frowns upon the legitimate concerns his patients have until
he too is forced to face a life-threatening illness from the inside of his lab
coat. It wasn’t until I lost a beloved
aunt to cancer that the film’s more meaningful message; reassessing the
importance of one’s own time and being sincere and kind toward others in spite
of our more critical nature to be judgmental, suddenly became the truly
invaluably and enriching message I gleaned from the movie.
Based on Dr.
Edward Rosenbaum’s 1988 novel, ‘A Taste
of My Own Medicine’, The Doctor is
the story of Jack MacKee (played to perfection by William Hurt). A successful
surgeon whose thriving L.A. practice affords him a comfortable lifestyle with
wife, Anne (Christine Lahti) and young son, Nicky (Charlie Korsmo), Jack lacks
an essential ingredient to be truly great in his profession: an understanding
heart. When a patient recovering from open heart surgery confides to him that
her husband is not intimate with her since the operation, Jack cruelly quips
that she is just like a Playboy centerfold – and has the staples right down her
middle to prove it.
Jack’s
partner, Dr. Murray Kaplan (Mandy Patinkin) is an equally devil-may-care sort.
But his comeuppance arrives early on when former patient, Mr. Richards (Richard
McKenzie) files a lawsuit, having suffered a debilitating stroke as a result of
his operation. Kaplan is understandably unnerved. After all, his livelihood and
privileges at the hospital are at stake. But Jack confidently assures Murray
that he will testify at the formal inquest on his behalf, despite not knowing
any of the particulars of Mr. Richard’s case.
On the home
front Jack and Anne seem happy – or perhaps ‘happily distracted’ is a better
word for it. Each is busy with their career, viewing home and family as
something merely fitted between the hours committed to work. While returning from a dinner party that has
gone off particularly well, Jack develops a coughing fit. Anne is alarmed when
Jack expels more than a few specks of blood onto his clothes, as well as her
own and in her hair. The next day Jack makes an appointment with oncologist,
Dr. Leslie Abbott (Wendy Crewson); a rather clinically disinterested sort who
treats her patients more as specimens than people with legitimate concerns.
After a cursorily examination, Dr. Abbott asserts that Jack has a growth in his
throat requiring a biopsy. The news is hardly calming, more so when the results
come back positive. Jack has throat cancer.
Forced to
endure the same round of evasive tests and endless barrage of paperwork, Jack
is scheduled for radiation therapy to shrink his tumor. But he still sees
himself as apart from the other patients, his intolerance toward waiting his
turn, delays and missteps made by the medical support personnel grating on his
nerves, but also incurring the displeasure of fellow patient, June Ellis
(Elizabeth Perkins) who is being treated with aggressive chemotherapy for an
inoperable brain tumor.
The initial
meeting between Jack and June is anything but cordial. She lays it on the line
for him and he, believing she just needs to get over herself, condescendingly
tells June that she will fully recover from her condition, just as a former
patient of his father’s did. This news, wholly fabricated, gives June the
necessary hope to continue her treatments. Ironically, her grace and empathy
towards the other patients slowly begins to rub off on Jack. He befriends June
and the two share stories about their lives – with Jack omitting the fact that
he is a doctor.
Inevitably,
June learns the truth – that he is – and furthermore that the patient Jack
described to her was made up to make her feel better. Jack begins to understand
cancer from a patient’s perspective – something he never before considered. A
bond develops between June and Jack that is mutually rewarding. In the
meantime, Jack’s relationship with Anne has begun to deteriorate. Believing
that she has no concept of what he is going through, Jack gravitates to June
platonically for moral support. After a mix up of hospital records results in
Jack being given a barium enema after his second biopsy – which yields the disastrous
result that not only has Jack’s tumor not shrunk with radiation, but has
actually grown since the treatments, Jack slowly comes to believe that perhaps
Leslie Abbott is not the right doctor to perform his operation.
Confronting
Abbott in her office with his concerns, Jack is treated to a litany of excuses
and even more frigid disdain for his questioning. In response, Abbott flings
Jack’s file at him and storms off. Jack decides to have Dr. Eli Blumfield (Adam
Arkin) perform his surgery instead. In the past, Jack has been critical, to
downright condescending toward Eli – whom he has nicknamed ‘the rabbi’ to
remain popular with his own fair-weather friends – but whose ethics, integrity
and bedside manner he has long admired from afar.
Jack applies
his own newfound compassion to his latest patient, Mr. Maris (William Marquez)
who is fearful of his own pending heart replacement surgery. Mrs. Maris
(Lillian Hurst) tells her husband that she believes true compassion is a
quality of the heart, and after seeing the way Jack is in calming her husband’s
anxieties she believes that he is the surgeon for the job. As Murray’s inquest
nears Jack decides to investigate Mr. Richard’s case with an unbiased eye,
particularly after he witnesses Mr. Richard lock his keys in his car. Unable to
articulate his distress because of the aftereffects of his stroke, Mr. Richard
is grateful when Jack steps in. Promising to have Mr. Richard’s keys left for
him at the front desk by the time his deposition is over, Jack investigates Mr.
Richards’ file privately, learning that a simple test would have alerted Dr.
Kaplan to the dangers of proceeding with the operation. In response to this
discovery Jack informs Murray that he cannot stand behind his decision at the
deposition – a move that effectively severs their lifelong friendship.
Determined to
do something nice for June, Jack learns that she has long desired to see a
concert given by an American Indian performing arts ensemble. The group is
currently performing in Arizona. On a whim and a spree Jack rents a car and
calls his secretary to order tickets ahead. Whisking June off with all speed,
an ecstatic June suddenly becomes unnerved. She tells Jack that the concert is
not as important to her now. At her request, Jack parks the car off to the side
of the road and the two share intimate stories as they watch the sun set
against the mesa.
As the date
for Jack’s operation approaches he confides in June that he is terrified about
what the future will bring; a fear she tries to, but cannot entirely quell for
him. Afterward Jack goes home and June begins to write him a letter. Several
days pass and Jack receives a page informing him that June has slipped into a
coma. He rushes to her bedside, tenderly holds her hand and talks to her until
she quietly dies. The next day Jack submits to his own surgery – and although
entirely successful, Eli informs Anne that there may be some irreversible
damage to Jack’s vocal chords. For a few days after his surgery Jack uses a
whistle and an erasable clap board to communicate with Anne. Having been
wounded by his lack of faith in her these many weeks, Anne is skeptical. But
Jack rallies to her side and in a spontaneous moment utters that he loves her,
proving that his vocal chords will eventually recover from the surgery.
Jack has been
transformed for the better by these experiences. In response to his becoming a
better doctor he institutes a plan of action to convince his interns that they
must be more engaged human beings in order to become better doctors. Assigning
each intern a particular illness, Jack prescribes the necessary round of tests
that each intern will one day prescribe for their patients. Only by going
through the process themselves will they truly share in the experience. Returning
to his office, Jack is astonished to find that someone has forwarded June’s
letter to him.
He rushes to
the rooftop where June first bared her soul to him and reads the letter to
himself; a parable about a farmer who successfully managed to scare off all the
animals from his crops, then realized that he desperately missed their company.
So he went into the fields and stretched out his arms to welcome them back. But
the animals never returned, fearful of the farmer’s ‘new scarecrow’. The letter
concludes with June’s own commentary. “Dear
Jack,” she reasons, “Let down your
arms and we’ll all come home.” Realizing the wisdom in this parable, Jack
smiles and tilts his head toward the sky with the understanding that the
friendship he shared with June will always be a part of him.
The Doctor is likely to be an emotional viewing experience for
just about anyone who has suffered through the regimented dictates of a profession
that frequently treats its clientele as mere billing numbers on a page. William
Hurt and Elizabeth Perkins strike just the right chord; genuine, heartfelt and thoroughly
nurturing throughout. Perkins in particular delivers an extraordinary performance.
Not knowing her as an actress back in 1991 I recall thoroughly buying into her
understated portrait of a woman facing down her own mortality alone, with
grace, dignity and consideration towards others. Hurt’s turn as the callous professional
transformed into compassionate caregiver is quite simply poetic. For obvious
and very personal reasons I cannot recommend this film enough. It should – and must
– be seen.
Inexplicably,
Mill Creek Media has decided to release The
Doctor with another Touchstone catalogue title, John Erman’s Stella (1990); the painfully bad remake
of 1939’s Stella Dallas costarring Bette Midler and Trini Alvarado. I won’t
go into Stella’s plot in quite so
much detail – for the simple fact that Mill Creek has rather unceremoniously
dumped the film on the market as a toss away with a thoroughly substandard 720p
transfer bumped to a 1080p signal.
But in this
remake, Stella Claire (Bette Midler) is an unfashionable, often crude and
thoroughly determined Boston gal whose heavy partying leads her into the arms
of medical student, Stephen Dallas (Stephen Collins). The two become lovers and
Stephen makes plans to marry Stella and begin their life together. One problem:
Stella quickly realizes that she is outclassed by her lover’s ambitions and his
family.
She can never
belong to his world – not really – and after getting pregnant with his child
elects to break up with Stephen in favor of raising their daughter, Jenny
(effectively played by Ashley Peldon age 3, Alisan Porter age 8 and Trini
Alvarado as a teen/early twenty-something) by herself. Of course, Stephen helps
out when he can. He also moves on with his own life and marries Janise Morrison
(Marsha Mason) – a cultured jetsetter who proceeds to embrace Jenny as her own
and help shape her future in promising ways.
Stella becomes
resentful of this maternal intervention. Meanwhile Jenny is emotionally hurt
after a romantic weekend with Boston blue blood, Pat Robbins (William
Macnamara) goes nowhere, and briefly rebels by hooking up with reprobate, Jim
Uptegrove (Ben Stiller) instead. Stella breaks them apart, thereafter moving
heaven and earth to see that Jenny and Pat are reunited. But she abstains from
her daughter’s penultimate moment of happiness, Jenny’s marriage to Pat –
realizing that in order to preserve Jenny’s joy she must set aside her own.
The
self-sacrificing Barbara Stanwyck did in the 1939 original was both heartwarming
and heartbreaking at the same time. Stanwyck’s Stella was a low class dame with
high ideals, but with the guts and good sense to carry it off. Midler’s Stella
is merely a bumpkin outclassed by virtually anyone who circulates outside her
own limited circle of friends. Contemporizing the story also robs it of its
quaint melodramatic appeal. Midler and Alvarado have some good onscreen
chemistry, but the story as reconstituted for the contemporary audience is
undernourished by a pedestrian screenplay from Robert Getchell.
The narrative
waffles away from its central theme of maternal martyrdom to include some silly
vignettes that are meant to lighten the overall mood of the piece, which
frankly, is quite abysmal and heavy-handed. Midler’s performance is problematic
at best – struggling to find her character between bipolar moods of motherly
charm and excruciating crass behavior. It doesn’t work and neither does the
truncated way Getchell quickly rushes through the finale, with Midler unable to
resurrect anything but the memory of Stanwyck’s tear-stained matron
affectionately staring through a rain soaked window at her daughter’s ultimate
moment.
Now, for some
good news. The Doctor is a tru-HD 1080p
upgrade. This becomes quite evident from the moment the movie begins to play.
The image is crisp without being artificially enhanced. Grain is evident and
accurately represented. Colors exhibit a characteristically dated quality – not
faded – with flesh tones slightly pinkish at times. Age related damage has been
cleaned up for a very clean visual presentation. As such The Doctor looks fairly close to the way I remember it
theatrically. Contrast is good and fine detail is evident, particularly during
close ups. This isn’t a perfect transfer to be sure, but it commits forgivable
sins.
Stella is an entirely different matter. From the first to last
moment the print used is hopelessly marred by an excessive amount of age
related damage – dirt, scratches, nicks and chips that belie the movie only
being thirty two years old. Worse, there’s been some digital manipulation,
evident in some minor edge effects and a liberal application of DNR that
obliterates fine detail. Colors are pasty pale, with flesh tones appearing
piggy pink. Yuck! The image looks a shay better than an average tube broadcast
with rabbit ears.
The DTS audio
is 5.1 on both titles but seems more refined on The Doctor with unusually solid bass and good spatiality between
dialogue, music and effects. Stella sounds
like a TV broadcast or rechanneled stereo rather than true stereo; odd, since I
remember a more aggressive sonic experience even from my old DVD.
I’m not
entirely certain how Mill Creek became the custodians of these Touchstone
catalogue titles but there it is. In The
Doctor’s case I have to say this transfer gets a pass with honors. In Stella’s case it’s a complete disaster,
begging the question why Mill Creek would even waste their time compressing two
feature length movies onto a single Blu-ray disc. I could have easily done
without this one.
FILM
RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
The Doctor 4
Stella 2
VIDEO/AUDIO
The Doctor 3.5
Stella
1
EXTRAS
0
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