All That Glitters Isn’t Gold

This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

The New York Sun

Nowhere in our society do the perils of success weigh more heavily than in Hollywood, where it’s possible to make tens of millions of dollars doing something the rest of us dream about – and feel miserable. Yes, it’s true: Many of Hollywood’s biggest stars spend their days in mourning for their careers behind the walls of their gated mansions, crying into their ice cream. It’s not enough to make piles and piles of money; most actors want respectability, and rarely do multimillion-dollar paychecks and career-defining roles intermingle. There must be risk to reward, and most actors (and writers and directors, for that matter) would prefer to stay the sure course, and take the biggest paycheck they can find. Sadly, that sort of pragmatic thinking results in movies like TNT’s “The Engagement Ring.”


The career of Patricia Heaton deserves attention, as do her talents. More than perhaps any other female star, Ms. Heaton can take significant credit for the syndication success of her last job; there’s no question that her role as Ray Romano’s comic foil meant more to the ratings triumph of “Everybody Loves Raymond” than any single element of the sitcom’s winning formula. As Debra, Ms. Heaton defined a character equal to anything doled out by her on-screen husband, the standup comedian Mr. Romano, or his parents, played by comedy warhorses Peter Boyle and Doris Roberts. The virtually unknown Ms. Heaton evolved a performance that anyone could love; her sharp, sassy wit became the conscience of the show. It was rare that Debra Barone wasn’t integral to a storyline, or the center of comic attention. She wasn’t Lucy, exactly – she was more like Rhoda, with kids.


In nine seasons on “Raymond,” Ms. Heaton got rich and famous – so much so that her physical appearance became regular fodder for the television-obsessed tabloids. Was that a new Heaton nose? Did Patty have her breasts redone? It became a running story and led her eventually to write a memoir (“Motherhood & Hollywood: How To Get a Job Like Mine”) that confessed her decision to get plastic surgery. It was an engaging and funny book (yes, I read it – don’t ask why) that revealed a thoughtful, intelligent actress whose ambitions extended beyond the half-hour sitcom form. She’d moved to New York in the 1980s from Cleveland to become a serious actress, but had no complaints or regrets about the turns that took her to a soundstage at Hollywood Center Studios for nine seasons of a beloved CBS sitcom. Sure, it was a job – and a good one – but it also elevated her to the enviable position of a role model to women everywhere. She relished her status as a woman who mattered, and her book doled out advice as though she knew how to make smart life decisions. It sure looked like she did. She’d raised four boys in the midst of making “Raymond,” having married a cool British actor who seemed to suit her perfectly.


As it turns out, though, even Ms. Heaton can make mistakes; Witness her first role after “Raymond,” the sappy, silly trifle that airs on TNT next Monday at 8 p.m. Ms. Heaton’s former employers at CBS passed on this project after first developing the script, and it’s easy to see why. Its central story has zero appeal to her core audience of viewers. Set in California wine country, it’s the saga of two families at odds but emotionally intertwined; she plays a meddling daughter who hopes to repair the relationship between her mother and her mother’s first love. This was directed by Steven Schachter – experienced in the ways of treacle, having helmed “The Wool Cap” and “Door to Door,” two recent William Macy movies meant exclusively to warm the heart. Television rarely tries anymore to merge uplift and intelligence; great, sweeping, emotional television movies like “Brian’s Song” have given way to narrow, pointless stories like this one. There’s nothing in “The Engagement Ring” that truly satisfies a viewer; this is meant only for those who prefer a straight dose of pure, raw sugar, not the rest of us, who prefer something with a bit more complexity and taste.


It’s not Patricia Heaton’s fault that “The Engagement Ring” fails to entertain, but it’s disappointing to see the gifted actress lend her name to a project like this. So much more could be made with her Hollywood clout – a great new series, or a witty romantic comedy, or even something fun on stage. Does she really need another paycheck? It’s hard to imagine money motivating Ms. Heaton, but nothing else explains her desire to make this infuriatingly pointless movie.


***


Tonight, Ted Koppel concludes his quarter-century as the anchor of ABC’s “Nightline,” a groundbreaking showcase for his singular talents. I wonder why television’s greatest living interviewer has chosen to go out with his interview of Morrie Schwartz, the central character of the bestselling “Tuesdays With Morrie.” I get sleepy just thinking about it.


Still, it should be mentioned, even if it’s for the millionth time, that Mr. Koppel has brought to television a rare and valuable passion that will be missed. His authority and intelligence gave him wide berth to badger the rich and powerful with his tough questions. He always acted as though he was being lied to; there was a touch of skepticism that played into most interviews, an element that’s missing from so many who followed in his footsteps. Are you listening, Charlie Rose? Probably not.


dblum@nysun.com


The New York Sun

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