At an experimental clinic for developmentally disabled
children, administrator Burt Lancaster and green teacher Judy Garland do their utmost
to help, help, help. The rap on this
film has always been that it is an early failed attempt by Cassavetes to be a
respectable Hollywood director, but otherwise
has little of value, at least with regard to his looming career as a maverick
independent. I can’t argue with that too
vociferously. There is much more of
producer Stanley Kramer’s famous do-gooder values in it that what we usually
associate with Cassavetes. And yet,
there they are: the faces of Gena Rowlands, and John Marley, and Paul Stewart,
all familiar members of Cassavetes’ informal stock company of actors. And most importantly, there is the horrifying
emotional battlefield in which all of Cassavetes’ best work takes place, where
the lines between normality and insanity are tragically thin and fluctuating. The issue is not so much the primary
subject of mentally retarded children being reached by caring staff, but the aspects
of the healthy adult characters that drive them to forgo more carefree lives in
order to deal with the frustrations and few rewards of working with the
handicapped. Yes, it comes off as a bit
of a star-vehicle for Garland ,
designed to give her an Anne Bancroft-in-The-Miracle-Worker-type of
role, with its accompanying Academy Award, but it is also genuine and effective. Had it been more successful, Cassavetes might
indeed have eased into an Arthur Hiller/George Roy Hill type of career as a
maker of benign, only occasionally robust mainstream fare.

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