Two actors we loved knowing, who seemed to know us
NEW YORK— What a couple of mugs, sporting less-than-perfect physiques in the bargain.
But was there anything lovelier than Jack Klugman or Charles Durning doing what they did for an audience?
Rumpled Klugman exploding at his prissy flatmate Tony Randall in the long-running sitcom “The Odd Couple.” Portly Durning hoofing, fleet of foot, and singing how “Ewwwww, I love to do a little sidestep” in the film “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.” Each was a luminous display of the extraordinary possibilities of the ordinary.
Klugman and Durning (both of whom died Mon- day, Klugman at 89 in Los Angeles, Durning at 90 in New York) spent storied careers building catalogues of roles that classed them indisputably as “character actors.”
The term “character actor” commands respect and affection among audiences, even audience members whomay not quite realize their level of investment in such artistry. The group in which Klugman and Durning reign supreme— who sustains us in more com- fortable ways. Nothing seems to stand between us and what they do. They, with their just-coping-with-life heroics, show us who we are, or could be if we try a little harder (or warn us of the jam that might befall us if we don’t). They are our proxies.
They never go out of style. They never lose their appeal. They are never put away because their looks have faded or their waistline thickened. We stick with them, just as they stick with us. (Durning was working into his late 80s in a recurring role as the irascible father of Denis Leary’s firefighter protagonist on the drama “Rescue Me”). In this way, too, they resemble everybody we truly love: We love them in every phase of their lives.
Like most of us, the character actor seldom if ever gets the girl or saves the world. They aren’t flashy. But with their own special magnetism, they remind us, in role after role, that everyday people are special, too.