BY TODD GARBARINI
The
late Arthur Barron was a New York-based documentary film director perhaps best
known for his two-hour Birth and Death film from 1969, followed by the true
story of the Wright Brothers and their road to flight. Following these projects
but prior to delving into made-for-television documentary fare in the
mid-1970’s, he tried his hand at feature filmmaking, employing similar documentary-style
techniques that William Friedkin used to startling effect in his masterful 1971
film The French Connection. Instead of following around two police
detectives hot on the trail of heroin smugglers, however, Mr. Barron instead turned
his attention to a dramatic subject that, almost unbelievably, was for the most
part untapped at the time. His feature film directorial debut is the teenage
coming-of-age romantic drama filmed in the autumn of 1972 called Jeremy,
starring actor Robby Benson as the titular hero and Glynnis O’Connor in her
debut role as the girl who catches his eye and ultimately wins his heart.
Jeremy
Jones is by no means a stud, nor is he a complete nerd or outcast in the high
school sense of the word. He seems to fall somewhere in between, having been
born into a life that is both spirited and adventurous. He plays the cello in
the school band and wins admiration but also (tender) criticism from his music tutor
(Leonardo Cimino); he plays on the school basketball team; he walks dogs for
extra money; he even has a knack for picking winning horses at the racetrack
but cannot bet because he is too young. While running an errand for his music teacher,
Jeremy catches sight of a new girl in school who has arrived from Detroit following
her father’s (Ned Wilson) fallout from his job. He’s a big shot and they live a
privileged life on Park Avenue off of 73rd Street in Manhattan at a
time when it was affordable to do so. She’s a petite beauty (Glynnis O’Connor) whom
he sees practicing dance moves. She bears a bit of a resemblance to how Linda
Blair looks in William Friedkin’s The Exorcist (1973). Jeremy is
instantly smitten and cannot get her out of his head but forgets to ask her
name. His best friend Ralph is someone whom he confides in and Ralph is
unconventionally understanding and patient, doing his best to give him advice
on how to approach the girl following their initial encounter. Jeremy follows
her to a record store on West 49th Street in New York, just to get a
glimpse of her. Another meeting following his accolades for his work in a school
recital reveals her name as Susan. The film captures the awkwardness of making
The First Phone Call, something relegated to the side of the road today in the
age of cell phones, text messages, social media, and Tumblr.
Jeremy
and Susan begin dating and quickly fall madly in love with one another the way
that care-free adolescents can at a pivotal time in their lives prior to the
rigors and responsibilities that inevitably befall them following the onset of
adulthood. Jeremy’s parents are sort of wrapped up in their own world. His mother
grows impatient over her husband’s inability to agree with her over choosing
the color of tiles. In fact, all the adults appear to be too busy for much of
anything other than running on the wheel of the rat race.
Jeremy is a breath of fresh air and the lack
of teasing and bullying from fellow students is a welcome relief. What you get
is one of the most honest and moving depictions of high school life ever
committed to film, although the fairy tale view of New York is a little bit
questionable as there is no mention of the Watergate Scandal or the Vietnam
War. New York at the time of filming was even more dangerous than it is now. Lee
Holdridge composes a score that is romantic and effective and provides the
perfect balm to the film’s inevitable and heartbreaking ending which, though
bittersweet, thankfully isn’t the knife-to-the-heart agony felt by the
protagonist in Piers Haggard’s A Summer Story (1988). Look fast for
James Karen of the old Pathmark commercials as Frank in a cameo in the Monopoly
board game scene hosted by Susan’s aunt. This occurs 75 minutes into the film. His
voice is unmistakable. You may also remember him as Craig T. Nelson’s boss Mr.
Teague in 1982’s Poltergeist.
Director
Barron would go on to helm the humorous ABC Afterschool Special “It Must
Be Love (‘Cause I Feel So Dumb)†which aired on Wednesday, October 8, 1975 and
starred the charming Alfred Lutter III of Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974)
fame. This short is worth seeking out as it contains hi-jinks characteristic of
kids finding their way in the world. A quick YouTube search will reveal the
truncated Learning Corporation of America (LCA) version that made the rounds in
middle schools across the country. The longer ABC-TV cut is more elusive.