"Who Is That Guy?!": Steve Inwood

Guesting on an episode of Wonder Woman.

A face, if not a name, that should be familiar to fans of several prominent "Dirty New York"-lensed films of the early '80s, Steve Inwood seemingly left the scene as quickly as he arrived.  In truth, according to his IMDb page, Inwood hung around in the industry in guest spots and telefilms until 1997.  After that, he entered a life completely out of the public eye and information on him is scant.  But, for a few years in the late '70s and early '80s, Inwood was a reliable presence in feature films shot in New York, making a strong impression even in small roles, while showcasing a distinctive charisma and range. 

With Ben Gazzara on A Question of Honor, a 1982 telefilm.

In the 1977 Frank Sinatra telefilm Contract on Cherry Street, Inwood is part of a very impressive  ensemble of players, playing a low-level junkie informant.  With his gaunt features, greasy hair, and whiny New Yawkese, Inwood rather effectively evinces the rat-like, desperate qualities of this pathetic figure.  With beard, Inwood briefly appears as a self-assured New York fashion designer-turned-murder victim in William Friedkin's Cruising.  A brief appearance it is, but it's an interesting role, that of a successful fashion entrepreneur by day who looks for sexual hook-ups in gay peep show booths on 42nd Street after hours.  Inwood is very good here, charming and confident when we first see him at his tony Madison Avenue shop, as he closes up for the weekend, then more wary, as he goes incognito at a peep show arcade that looks a lot like one seen in Robert Butler's Night of the Juggler, also from 1980, and also featuring Inwood.  He figures heavily in one of the darkest moments in Alan Parker's Fame, as a predatory Times Square "photographer" who convinces Irene Cara to pose topless for him.  In the following year's Prince of the City, Inwood has what might be his best role, as Mario Vincente, the Rudy Giuliani-inspired assistant U.S. attorney who empathizes and works with Detective Daniel Ciello (Treat Williams) as he struggles to come clean about his role in widespread police department corruption.  These roles culminated with Inwood's fourth-billing as the ego-maniacal Broadway producer in Sylvester Stallone's Staying Alive, the critically-skewered, though financially successful sequel to Saturday Night Fever. 

As Jesse in Staying Alive.

Perhaps if Staying Alive had been a better film Inwood's next feature film part, the starring role, would have been in something more reputable than Grizzly II: The Concert.  A troubled production shot in Hungary, it attracted a fine roster of players around Inwood, including Deborah Raffin, Louise Fletcher, Laura Dern, Jack Starrett, Charles Cyphers, Marc Alaimo, Dick Anthony Williams, young George Clooney and Charlie Sheen, and John Rhys-Davies, who had this to say about Inwood in an AV Club interview:

"Now, as far as Steve… well, to begin with, is he still alive?  Poor fellow.  He was very handsome, very strong, but he had one or two problems, and I guess coming off the near-superstardom of Staying Alive, it made him… perhaps overvalue his contribution a little bit."

From there, Inwood's career mostly consisted of television guest spots, along with a few supporting parts in telefilms and direct-to-video features.  The trail ends after 1997.  Did Inwood get too big for his britches or burn bridges, as Rhys-Davies indicates in his quote, leading to his career decline, or did general industry trends make his type unfashionable?  Whatever the cause, it's unfortunate that Inwood didn't continue on the path he was on in the early '80s, because his was a face and persona that fit well with the gritty, reality-based NY features and telefilms of that time, and even if he wasn't quite a viable leading man, his talent and versatility should have translated into a more extensive career as a character player.

With Shawnee Smith in the 1985 television film Crime of Innocence.

"Who Is That Guy?!": Kenneth McMillan

One of my all-time favorite character actors, Kenneth McMillan's is a face any fan of the cinema of the '70s and '80s will remember. Even though liver disease took him way too early, at age 56 (January 8th marked the 22nd anniversary of his passing), and his film career spanned less than 20 years, his film resume is chock full of fine projects: Serpico, The Taking of Pelham One Two Three, Girlfriends, Carny, Bloodbrothers, Runaway Train, Chilly Scenes of Winter, Ragtime, Eyewitness, The Pope of Greenwich Village, True Confessions, Amadeus, and Reckless. TV roles included spots on Rhoda, Dark Shadows, Starsky & Hutch, The Rockford Files, Kojak, Magnum, P.I. and myriad telefilms and mini-series. This was a working actor. And, that's not even including his roles in the original Broadway runs of David Rabe, Joe Papp, and Mike Nichols' Streamers and David Mamet and Ulu Grobard's American Buffalo, alongside Robert Duvall and John Savage.

My earliest childhood memory of McMillan onscreen is of watching him countless times in the memorable "The Ledge" episode in Lewis Teague's Cat's Eye. This guy is just so damned pleased with himself after he captures his wife's lover (Robert Hays) and makes the pretty boy walk around the ledge of his Atlantic City high-rise. Who can forget McMillan cackling and howling while jumping up and down on his bed in a satin robe? I sure as hell can't!

As a kid, I'm pretty sure I had this action figure of his character from Dune:

So, obviously, as evidenced by Dune, Cat's Eye, Ragtime, and other roles, it was easy for filmmakers to use his physique and facial features for villainous parts or as cops, but my favorites remain those that utilized his working class, New York Irish persona: Bloodbrothers, as a paralyzed bar owner who shares a heartbreaking scene with co-star Paul Sorvino, Reckless, as Aidan Quinn's hard-boozing old man, Eyewitness, as Bill Hurt's paralyzed pop, and, most especially, Chilly Scenes of Winter, in which he plays Gloria Grahame's loving husband and stepfather to John Heard. Heard is hard on the guy, but eventually McMillan's old softie is able to crack Heard's exterior as symbolized by the young man's acceptance of his gift of Turtle Wax. I've missed McMillan's high-pitched, New York-accented voice on screen for the last couple decades, but I'm thankful the actor was so busy during his two decades of performing, leaving behind plenty that I still have not seen.

McMillan almost has as much screen time in this trailer for Blue Skies Again as star Robyn Barto and Obscure One-Sheet sure is thrilled about that:

After all of the Stephen King cinematic references, watch McMillan chew scenery at the expense of Robert Hays and the titular cat:

"Who Is That Guy?!": Burton Gilliam

Possessing the type of face and persona that went out of fashion in Hollywood as the '70s turned into the '80s, Burton Gilliam's is a name that always piques my interest when I see it in the opening credits. Gilliam built up quite an impressive acting resume for someone who entered the business on a whim in his middle '30s. A character actor whose face I've recognized since I was young kid watching Blazing Saddles and Fletch, Gilliam's familiar mug and "shit-eatin' grin" were a mainstay of '70s-'80s big and small-screen fare, often in good ole boy variations with names like Buck, Jimmy Jack, Jammer, Tex, Smiley, Buford, Ringo, Deke, Delbart, Bud (on 2 occasions), and Virgil.

A champion Golden Gloves boxer while in the Coast Guard, Gilliam mulled turned pro before becoming a firefighter (for 14 years) like his father before him. Based in the Dallas area, it was a newspaper article about the local filming of Peter Bogdanovich's Paper Moon that prompted Gilliam to visit the casting office about extra work on the film. The neophyte performer apparently made quite an impression, as he received a speaking role as a desk clerk with the appropriately hillbillyish moniker of Floyd. Gilliam went onto to appear in a string of small, but memorable character parts in films like At Long Last Love, Farewell, My Lovely, Hearts of the West, Gator, Telefon, and my personal favorite, Thunderbolt & Lightfoot.

Typical of many of the freewheeling, often raunchy (i.e. very politically incorrect) films of that era, Gilliam's Thunderbolt & Lightfoot moment is refreshingly ribald and offbeat. He shows up in the latter part of the film for a single scene with co-lead Clint Eastwood in which he boasts of terrorizing the town's new Western Union security guard. With his best shit-eating grin, Gilliam (credited as "Welder") tells Eastwood--whose face registers something between amusement and disgust--how he once lured the shy, overweight guard (Cliff Emmich credited as "The Fat Man") out of his office.

"I got up to close to 'im, unzipped my pants, and took out my pecker. An, I put that dude right in his hand. He turned white and didn't know whether to hold it, drop it, or run off down the street with it. It was the funniest thing I ever saw in my life."

The supreme satisfaction with which Gilliam tells the story, coupled with Eastwood's reaction shots make this scene a hoot; the scene demonstrates why Gilliam was one of the more memorable character faces of an era very rich in screen characters. It's also the first and only time I've heard a man refer to his organ as "that dude."

Throughout his peak career years in the '70s and '80s, Gilliam made many a guest appearance; in the latter decade, television dominated, as rural-set films were on the wane and country and action television shows like The Dukes of Hazzard and The Fall Guy continued to flourish. Recent credits include a guest role on the Dallas-filmed television series The Good Guys as "Locksmith" and continued work as Dallas-area television pitchman dressed as--what else?--a cowboy. He also manages to keep busy refereeing boxing matches.

A priceless 1980 Carl's Jr. ad with Gilliam:



Burton Gilliam gets a day named after him:

"Who Is That Guy!?": Will Walker

As Fingers in The Driver

How can you not give love to a guy who played a character nicknamed "Jism Jim"?! Seriously. This skinny, blonde, pasty-looking dude showed up in several fairly high-profile late '70s productions, but since 1979's Hardcore in which he essayed the aforementioned role, Walker's film career has been silent.  Did Walker follow the path of his Hardcore character into the world of hardcore pornography?  Who knows?  

In Hardcore, he is one of two actors to have their way with the underage daughter of strict Calvinist Jake Van Dorn (George C. Scott) in a porno short. When Van Dorn sees a reel of the offending film, he has a memorable tirade in which he moans, nearly foams at the mouth, and yells at private eye-cum-projectionist Peter Boyle, "Turn it OFF, turn it OFF!!!!"  Surely writer-director Paul Schrader did not intend this bit to be funny, but despite the seriousness of the onscreen action, some snickers are inevitable.  From this point on, Van Dorn is intent on revenge and he finally gets Walker's "Jism Jim" when he masquerades as a porn producer casting for a new film and Jim comes to audition (there's also an audition with a large black man with the ridiculous moniker, "Big Dick Blaque"). Needless to say old Jake still has some fighting moves and Jim is no match...

In addition to getting his ass kicked by a disguised George C. in Hardcore, Walker was one of a gang of hapless crooks in Walter Hill's The Driver, appeared in Deathsport and The White Buffalo, and episodes of Baretta, Starsky and Hutch, Emergency!. Anyone know what Walker is up to today? 

"Who Is That Guy!?": Anthony James

Named for the jaw-dropping scene in Cruising in which sad-sack murder suspect Skip Lee (Jay Acovone) is brutalized by a mysterious large black man (the uncredited Henry Judd Baker) during a police interrogation that is anything but "by the books," this section will focus on those distinctive character actors that leave large impressions, but who are perpetually known as "that guy."

"Who is that guy!?"

First up: Anthony James. With such a nondescript name, it's no wonder this guy got lost in the shuffle. However, I've been made uneasy by this actor ever since I saw him in Blue Thunder where he played syndicate hitman Grundeltus (I don't think we ever hear him addressed by this rather unwieldy name in the film). I was five years-old and my dad and I snuck into a screening of Blue Thunder after watching Spacehunter: Adventures in the Forbidden Zone.

James' pockmarked face, greasy hair, and dead eyes were seared into my young consciousness and I think that's why this seemingly innocuous popcorn movie has always left me a little unsettled. Without compunction, James mows down shackled rookie cop Lymangood (the lovable Daniel Stern) and masterminds the assault and murder of an innocent woman in her driveway. James is most effective in scenes where he appears in the background unnoticed by the other actors (as in the scene in which Blue Thunder's capabilities are demonstrated for a crowd). It's a testament to his abilities as an actor and striking features, that the most chilling moments in the film belong to him and not to chief villain Malcolm McDowell, a man who is not exactly revered for his "nice guy" qualities.

James' few lines reveal a suitably cold and disaffected voice, as when he and his boss (Paul Lambert) discuss what to do about an incriminating recording made by Blue Thunder that's proven hard to dispose of--"We don't have the code number." To which his boss replies, "Then, erase them all." In this case, he refers to a videocassette, but he as may well be talking about any human obstacle that might get in the way of the organization's criminal operations.

By this time, James had cornered the market on unrepentant creeps, essaying these types of roles in such high-profile films as In the Heat of the Night and Vanishing Point and over hours of episodic television (Hawaii Five-O, The Streets of San Francisco, Bonanza, Charlie's Angels). Younger audiences probably remember him best from a memorably goofy fight scene with Leslie Nielsen in The Naked Gun 2 1/2: The Smell of Fear. In a way, James went out on top. He quit the Hollywood game in 1992 after playing saloon owner Skinny Dubois in Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven, finishing his career with a role in a film that would go onto win Best Picture, along with three other Academy Awards.

His IMDb bio claims that James left acting behind to pursue a career as an artist, but from what I can tell it is a far different Anthony James whose work is being exhibited in galleries all over the world.

Being that Anthony James, the actor, was never very well known, at least by name, it's appropriate that his identity is now being confused with a British artist some thirty years his junior. Ah, the always reliable IMDb...