BURT OFFERINGS
Emmy winners Heidi Klum and Tim Gunn have left Bravo’s “Project Runway” after 14 years together to develop a “global reality series” for Amazon, which will stream in over 200 countries and territories (title, launch date and series details to be announced
CHANCES are that you’ve read at least one of the postmortem assessments of Burt Reynolds’ life and career in the days following his death Thursday at the age of 82. And you probably noticed passing references to Reynolds’ television career in recounts of his professional resume. But let’s not minimize the impact TV had in shaping Reynolds’ public persona, and vice versa. True, in the years leading up to his big-screen breakthrough in “Deliverance,” he was not a huge TV star by any stretch of the imagination. But Reynolds was, along with his pal Clint Eastwood, one of the first small-screen actors of his generation to cross over into movie stardom. In his case that came after nearly 15 years of toiling in the small-screen trenches as a jobbing actor, appearing on dozens of series including the memorable (“The Twilight
Zone,” “Perry Mason,” “Alfred Hitchcock Presents,” “Route 66”) and forgettable (“Ripcord,” “Navajo Joe,” “The Brothers Brannagan,” “Armored Command”). Television success, such as it was, came to Reynolds in small increments — a three-season stint (as Quint Asper) on “Gunsmoke” followed by one season starring on “Hawk” followed by one season on ABC detective drama “Dan August.” Then “Deliverance” happened in 1972, and Reynolds morphed from a handsome, by-the-numbers TV performer into the gum-chewing,
womanizing, self-deprecating movie-star wiseguy memorably mimicked by Norm Macdonald on “Saturday Night Live.”
Unlike several other TV actors of his generation — most notably William Shatner (on “Star Trek”) and Adam West (on “Batman”) — Reynolds’ small-screen magnetism did transfer to the big screen, and he was able to leave his television alter-ego(s) behind as he reached his late-30s. But the small-screen remained his devoted ally — his appearances on Johnny Carson’s “Tonight Show” in the ’70s and ’80s were late-night must-see moments years before NBC adapted that catchphrase. And when his movie career took a dip, he returned to where it all began, long before it was fashionable to do so, by resurrecting himself on TV — first as a private investigator on ABC’s “B.L.
Stryker” (1989-90) opposite Ossie Davis and Rita Moreno and then as high school football coach (and former NFL star) Wood Newton on the CBS sitcom “Evening Shade,” which ran for four seasons (199094) with co-stars Marilu Henner, Hal Holbrook and Elizabeth Ashley.
In the years to follow, Reynolds spoofed himself (“The Golden
Girls,” “Cybill,” “Archer”) and returned, time and again, to small-screen roles; nothing ever seemed too far afield for a guy who, it seemed, never took himself too seriously.
Burt Reynolds helped bridge the seemingly insurmountable gap that existed, once upon a time, between the genres of television acting and big-screen acting — leaving his indelible mark on both mediums and, in a metaphor the ex-college football player would appreciate, making it an even playing field.