associates Stacy Keach primarily with the role of Mike Hammer may be surprised
to discover that the same actor who seemingly effortlessly brought to life
Mickey Spillane’s tough, brash private eye for a generation of television
viewers has been described by The New York
Times as “The finest American classical actor since Barrymore.”
One of the characteristics that has marked his highly successful career
has been his versatility, as he has excelled throughout the years in a wide
variety of dramatically different roles in film, theatre, and television.
Mr. Keach won a
scholarship to Yale Drama School in 1964 and began his professional acting
career that summer, playing Marcellus and The Player King in Joseph Papp’s
production of Hamlet. Later he was
awarded a Fulbright Scholarship and went on to study at London’s Academy of
Music and Dramatic Art (LAMDA). His
stage credits include the title roles in
Macbird (1967), Coriolanus
(1967-68), Hamlet (three different
productions in 1971, 1972, and 1973),
Cyrano de Bergerac (1977),
Richard III (1990), and
He won Obies for his performances in
Hamlet, and Long Day’s Journey
into Night (1971). In 1969 he
made his Broadway debut playing Buffalo Bill in Arthur Kopit’s
Indians, a part for which he received
a Tony nomination for best actor. In
1994 he was awarded the Helen Hayes Award for his role in the Broadway
production of The Kentucky Cycle.
In 2000, the Shakespeare Theatre in Washington, D.C awarded him the
prestigious Millennium Recognition Award for his contributions to classical
He began his film career in 1968 in Carson McCullers’
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter and went
on to star in several more films of note including
End of the Road (1970),
Brewster McCloud (1970), Fat City
(1972), Judge Roy Bean (1972),
The Long Riders (1980),
and Escape from LA (1996).
In 1973 he put in a critically acclaimed performance as Luther in the
American Film Theatre’s adaptation of John Osborne’s play of the same name.
In the seventies and
eighties his highly successful television career was highlighted by lead roles
in Mistral’s Daughter (1984),
Hemingway (1988), for which he won a
Golden Globe and an Emmy nomination for Best Actor, and, of course, Mickey
Spillane’s Mike Hammer.
Today he finds himself constantly in demand for roles on
the stage and in television, and for his Shakespearean readings.
He is also a tireless spokesman and advocate for the Cleft Palate
Foundation. Mr. Keach can currently
be seen playing Philip Oschner in Arthur Miller’s new play
Finishing the Picture at the Goodman
Theatre in Chicago.
So when did you read your first Mike Hammer book?
Well, it was about 1955. And
of course, in those days, it was soft porn—the dog-eared pages were under the
bed! I read them when I was in high
school. It was the rage, you know.
I’ve read that your mother confiscated your first Mike Hammer book!
Yeah, she scolded me! I lost
all privileges for the weekend. But
Mike Hammer was fun. He was a great
character and I really enjoyed exploring it.
I mean, for a classical actor—basically a character actor, as I consider
myself—to have been able to play a sort of romantic detective like that for a
string of time was a great privilege. As an artist I began to look for the
qualities that make him attractive.
Obviously he’s an Old Testament character, born out of the revenge motif, which
is the source of many great dramas and great dramatic characters.
He’s a “get ’em” guy—an eye for an eye.
And he had a way of expressing himself, too, that I think was the
equivalent of street poetry. I
always thought of Mike Hammer as a cross between James Bond and Dirty Harry with
a foot in the superhero world and another in the gutter!
And he’s always behind on his rent!
I think people can tire of the politically correct detectives.
He was definitely not that.
Not at all. And I think
that’s what was the great thing about him.
I remember Ralph Meeker’s performance in
Kiss Me Deadly which I thought was
wonderful. I think I was the eighth
or the ninth actor to play Mike Hammer.
There was Darren McGavin. And
Ralph Meeker . . . .
Biff Elliot. Mickey Spillane
himself in The Girl Hunters.
I saw the one with Ralph Meeker in the cinema a couple of months ago.
They’ve re-released it.
Was it with the ending?
Yeah, with the ending. The
ending was crazy though!
Yeah. It’s nuts.
Darren McGavin was pretty good but, you know, you’re my favorite Mike
Oh, thank you. Darren McGavin
was my favorite. He brought humor to
the role for the first time. I mean,
we extended that, and went even a step further with the humor—the sort of
sarcastic, ironic, tongue-in-cheek observations of life I always enjoyed.
I loved doing the voice-overs.
The other thing I loved about it was the music.
Harlem Nocturne . . . .
Did Mickey Spillane give you any advice on how to portray Mike Hammer?
Well, he was very concerned about the hat.
He said, “Wear this, kid.” I
think the hat that he was referring to was a snap-brim hat, not the fedora we
finally ended up with. I’ve got a
big head anyway and I just looked like a bowling pin with a toy hat on its head.
I didn’t look good. But the
fedora worked. So the hat became a
sort of trademark—the hat and the trench coat.
So how’s Mickey doing? Do you
still keep in contact?
He’s doing great. I spoke
with him and he’s just celebrated his 88th birthday!
Such a wonderful man. A great
sense of humor.
I saw him on television once and they were asking him about the O.J.
Simpson case and he said, “Oh, I can come up with a couple of easy scenarios for
a frame-up!” So, what’s your
favorite episode from the Mike Hammer series?
That would be tough! Probably
the very first show. It was our
movie actually—Murder Me, Murder You.
Will we be seeing you doing any more of them?
I don’t think so. Well, I
certainly won’t. I feel that Mike
Hammer is a little bit in the tradition of great pop art heroes, in that he
needs to be regenerated by a younger actor.
I think it’s like James Bond.
I don’t think we want to see Mike Hammer get old and die.
But you look great! I was
going to ask you how you managed to keep so fit.
Oh, man! It’s lots of anxiety
and stress. No, I’m kidding you.
I don’t know. As I get older
my priorities have been changing….
I’ve been spending a lot more time producing and composing music.
Oh, you compose music?
Yes, I do. Not many people
know that, but they will in short order.
I think I’m about ready to explode here with a bunch of stuff.
So what type of music do you compose?
All kinds—jazz, blues, romantic movie music.
Right now I’m doing a lot of stuff that’s very much about the era of my
parents. So I’m doing a lot of
nostalgic twenties, thirties, forties kind of music.
Ragtime, you know. But my
dream is to score a movie. I’m
really working hard toward that. I’m
just getting ready to sit down and take a Pro Tools course.
I work with a synthesizer and piano, but I’m a keyboard guy. So I’m doing
more and more music, as well as producing a couple of documentaries for public
television with my friend Gary Greenberg.
I don’t know if you want to get into this aspect of my career, but it’s
something that sort of preoccupies my time at the moment.
I’m interested in everything.
In fact, I was going to ask you about your performance as Luther.
I saw that six months ago, and it was fantastic.
Oh, thank you. I loved that
project. That was an amazing
experience. I’d always been
fascinated with the character, and I saw Albert Finney perform it brilliantly on
stage in New York when I was a young actor.
I think often people judge actors as being envious of one another a lot
of the time, and it’s true, they are.
But I think, also, there are occasions when you see great performances in
certain roles which inspire you to come to the same role, and it’s not
competitive in any way. But there
was one glitch on that show that always troubled me, and that was in the terms
of the style of that particular series being one that was problematic from the
start. It was a wonderful series,
the American Film Theatre series.
They did Luther,
Lost in the Stars, The Iceman
Cometh, and I think we did A Delicate
Balance. But they were taking
plays and making film versions of plays, and they had to make a decision about
whether they were going to make a movie or a movie of a play.
When we were doing Luther, very early on, there was a portion of the script where you
actually go inside the character and hear his interior voice speaking.
On the stage, of course, that’s spoken as a soliloquy and it’s a
convention that’s accepted in the theatre.
But in a movie, when you speak your thoughts out loud, it somehow, I
think, goes against the nature of film.
Guy Green, the director, and I never saw to eye to eye on that because he
said, “No. This is the soliloquy
that John Osborne wrote. We’re going
to film it speaking,” and I said, “Well, can we just hear the voice while I’m
walking from one end of the cathedral to the other, as opposed to speaking as he
walks?” We did it both ways but the
way that he chose to film it was where Luther is speaking out loud.
What it does is it strains credibility in terms of what you’re watching,
and it threw me out of the film.
That was the one regret—it’s not a regret, but I wish it was done differently.
But listen, in movies that’s always the case.
There’s always something that could have been done differently.
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