Thursday, November 9, 2017 at 10:30PM

Lynn Lee reflects on Honorary Oscar winner Donald Sutherland's work in a former Best Picture...



The first time I saw Ordinary People, I remember thinking it was very good, very sad, and very WASPy, and that the acting was outstanding across the board. I was most impressed, if also most frustrated, by Mary Tyler Moore for playing so convincingly against type as the chilly, brittle, allergic-to-grief Beth Jarrett; found Timothy Hutton’s guilt-racked Conrad the most relatable; and Judd Hirsch’s warm, no-BS shrink the most appealing. Yet the character I ended up feeling the most sympathy for was Donald Sutherland’s Calvin, who’s forced to accept the disintegration of the family he fought so hard to preserve.

I still have largely the same reactions today, although I’ve come to feel more compassion for Beth – maybe because I’ve become more aware of just how harshly society judges “cold” mothers (see also Betty Draper from “Mad Men”), maybe because Beth is so emotionally blocked it’s obvious she needs psychiatric help as much as the rest of her family, if not more so. At the same time, the years have only deepened my appreciation of Sutherland’s work, which in my opinion ranks among the best of his career. He imbues remarkable nuance and a quiet poignancy into a character that could easily have been overshadowed by the sharper-edged figures around him.

As it is, Sutherland was famously the only one of Ordinary People’s four principals not to receive an Oscar nomination. Hutton would go on to win best supporting actor (a classic case of category fraud if I ever saw one) over Hirsch, while Moore would lose Best Actress to Sissy Spacek for Coal Miner’s Daughter. Sutherland’s snub is dispiriting but not that surprising, given the understated nature of his performance in a year when Robert De Niro would take home the Best Actor trophy for Raging Bull. It also probably didn’t help that more than any of his co-stars, his character seems to fall somewhere in the gray area between lead and supporting. At first glance the role seems supporting, with Hutton and Moore as the leads. However, it essentially shifts from supporting to co-lead over the course of the film, as Calvin comes into focus as a character and moves from the sidelines of the conflict to the very center of it.

In a reversal of the usual gender dynamic in unhappy-family dramas, Calvin isn’t so much the family patriarch as its self-appointed peacemaker, trying desperately to bridge the widening chasm between his wife and son until he realizes it’s impossible. Early on, his primary mode seems to be to watch and wince silently when Beth and Conrad snipe at each other. Occasionally he interjects a feeble attempt to defuse the situation; more often he approaches one or both of them separately to smooth things over. As the tensions reach a breaking point, his concerned-but-hopeful demeanor gradually slumps into a tired, perpetually troubled look before giving way to rising anger and heartbreak.

Sutherland doesn’t hit us over the head with these emotional beats, and rightly so; Cal’s is a naturally low-key, even-keeled, slow-burn temperament. But you see the shifts in his face, especially his eyes, which have a distinctly if subtly different expression in each of his scenes. His worry, his puzzlement, his judging and finding wanting, and, finally his sorrow bordering on despair, are all palpable in those crystalline blue peepers. And so seldom does he raise his voice that when he does lash out at his wife, it comes as an especial shock.

Tellingly, though, Calvin’s final scene with Beth, while among their quietest, is also the most wrenching, as he accuses her of being incapable of love. It’s a gobsmacker and perhaps not entirely fair to Beth: just because he can’t see her “messy” emotions doesn’t mean they don’t exist, and we’ve seen hints that she does love him, does feel and hurt horribly from their loss, and that a large part of her coldness towards Connie is part of her overall campaign to avoid anything that reminds her of the pain she’s repressing. But it’s also clear that Calvin can’t be with someone who refuses to open up or show real tenderness towards their living son. With that decision, his entire universe collapses, and Sutherland manages to convey the full devastation while hardly so much as lifting his voice or hand. It’s a quiet bombshell – a fitting metaphor for Sutherland’s performance as a whole.

previously...

Owen Roizman Tootsie

Agnes Varda Cleo from 5 to 7

Donald Sutherland Fellini's Casanova

Charles Burnett Killer of Sheep

Agnes Varda The Gleaners and I