dial "m" for "mcdowall"
DESCRIPTION
Roddy McDowall on stage in "Dial 'M' For Murder."TRANSCRIPT
“Dial ‘M’ for ‘McDowall’”
By M.L. Zambrana
First written 14 September 2000
During the 1999 Academy Awards, the "In Memoriam" portion of the ceremony
honored the directors, writers, producers, choreographers, actors and other
industry professionals who had passed on since the previous year. As is
customary, that segment of the ceremony aired clips of those professionals’ finest
or most famous performances, in a final salute to their marvelous work for the
motion picture industry.
At the end of the memorial, the images of two men came up on the screen: that of
Roddy McDowall, followed by Frank Sinatra. The audience matched each man
clap for clap as they showed their appreciation of these legendary men.
Although the average moviegoer might not recall the name "Roddy McDowall,"
that night the Hollywood community proved that it hadn’t forgotten one of its best
actors and one of its greatest supporters.
I saw Roddy McDowall only once in person, during a performance at the Fisher
Theater in Detroit, Michigan--a ffew years before his death from cancer. I’d
gotten a front-row seat for the performance (well, more of a fourth-row seat, but
the rows curve near the stage, and being on the end put me next to the boards with
an unobstructed view). He had a supporting role in the play, "Dial ‘M’ for
Murder" as a Scottish detective, and although he struggled a bit with the
consistency of the dialect, he performed the part well.
At one point in the play the heroine, played by actress Nancy Allen, went into a
monologue as the other actors stood and listened to her. Roddy stood off to one
side with a pad of paper and a silver-and-black Bic pen in his hand as he
pretended to scribble an occasional note on the murder investigation. He
alternated his gaze between Ms. Allen and the paper in his grasp, his body turned
in my direction and his head down.
At this point in the action, I shifted my attention over to Roddy, fascinated to be in
the presence of this Hollywood legend, this former child actor, this friend and
secret-keeper to an untold number of stars. It had been his name that inspired me
to attend this play, after all…
He looked smaller than I’d expected, but that’s always the way with people on
film or television; they’re never the giants they seem to be. He looked older, too,
but not in an unpleasant way—the years had remained kind to him, and I thought
he looked quite handsome. He possessed a quiet, mature dignity…
At that moment, he lifted his head and looked at me, and I found out something
about him that I hadn’t suspected.
Roddy McDowall had strength. Despite his small, thin frame, despite his soft
voice and delicate mannerisms, his spirit had a backbone of iron. Instantly, I
found that I had encountered an individual with greater self-control and a stronger
resolve than anyone I’d ever met. His eyes had a hooded quality, appearing coal-
black under the theater lights, and as I watched, his eyes made a subtle and almost
imperceptible shift. The closest imagery to describe the change would be that of a
curtain as it is raised partway off of a stage, and you get a glimpse the shadowy
brick wall at the back of the theater. The curtain, or rather his Scottish stage
character, lifted from his consciousness for a moment and I found myself looking
at awe into the soul of Roddy McDowall, the man.
Our gaze only met for several seconds before my nerve broke, and I copied
everyone else in the theater by riveting my attention to Nancy Allen… but I will
always remember the look that he gave me. It’s been carved into my soul.