RIP Robert Culp: One of the Greats

The passing of Robert Culp earlier this week at the age of 79 also marks yet another passing, that of a unique style of acting that’s all but dead today. What I call Big Acting, where a one-of-a-kind leading man like Culp could step into the shoes of a character and blow him up into something memorably larger-than-life. Not in a self-conscious, showy way. Not in the way that’s turned Robert DeNiro, Al Pacino, Dustin Hoffman and Meryl Streep into middle-aged parodies of their former selves. No, Robert Culp belonged to a rare club that includes such legendary members as Burt Lancaster, Charlton Heston and Kirk Douglas; all of whom had a magic quality that convinced you it was their characters who were big, not their acting.

That doesn’t mean Culp or the others were always in fifth gear. In fact, it was their range that was most impressive and you could argue that each was at their best when they intentionally tamped down the titan qualities of their personalities and turned them inward. This effectively gave the quiet characters they portrayed a fascinating hair-triggered explosive dimension that always kept you wondering what they were capable of. As Elmer Gantry, Burt Lancaster created an unforgettable icon. But as Labiche, the stoic railway official forced to physical action in John Frankenheimer’s “The Train,” he carried that film with the kind of quiet authority only a Burt Lancaster could possess. Or a Robert Culp.

Though the series lasted only 44 episodes and three seasons, Culp’s work as Agent Bill Maxwell on “The Greatest American Hero” ranks, in my opinion, as one of the all-time great television characters ever created. Right up there with Jim Rockford, Ralph Kramden, Al Bundy, Carl Kolchak, and Fred Sanford.

Culp poured so much gusto, bravado (much of it wonderfully false), pathos and humanity into creator Stephen J. Cannell’s character that there were times you thought he might burst. And burst Maxwell did, right off the screen. His jargon alone — scenario, jammies – was hilarious, and his affection for guns and dog biscuits never came off as quirks created by writers in search of a gimmick. Culp made it all seem honest and easy. What a pleasure it must have been to write for an actor capable of pulling such things off, capable of grounding them in real life.

Bill Maxwell was deliciously complicated and the actor infused every exquisite line reading with enough neurosis mixed with confidence to make us acutely aware that our by-the-book patriot who hated Commies as much as he loved America was something much bigger than the one-dimensional cartoon character he seemed to want to be. And as the series rolled into its second season and we learned more about the F.B.I. Agent’s insecurities and lonely personal life, nothing seemed contrived because Culp had delivered all those layers right from the beginning. With the unspoken he had made Maxwell a mystery we couldn’t wait to unravel.

A couple of years ago I had the privilege of meeting Mr. Culp at an autograph show. It was early, I was one of the first ones there and before the crowd made it impossible for such things, I headed straight over to the actor and spent a few minutes trying not to gush. He looked great, was unfailingly gracious and it was obvious from our conservation that he was as proud of the many teleplays he had written as anything else. Well, he had every right to be.

At the end of the second season, in an episode titled “Lilacs, Mr. Maxwell,” all the rich character track that had been laid finally came together when our true-blue F.B.I. Agent fell in love with a foreign enemy agent. By any standard, this is an absolutely superb episode of dramatic television. For fans, it’s certainly one of the most satisfying and memorable.

Robert Culp not only wrote this episode, he directed it.

Bill Maxwell was the last truly heroic God, Guns and Guts, open and proud conservative to grace our television sets and thanks to excellent writing and perfect casting, he was portrayed as a real and sympathetic human being. This was a part no one else could’ve played and the chemistry Culp shared with his equally invaluable co-stars, William Katt and Connie Selleca, turned a silly concept into an under-appreciated television series (at least the first two seasons) that explored the human condition with more intelligence and grace than any episode of “Thirtysomething.”

To truly appreciate the actor’s talent, juxtapose Culp’s Bill Maxwell with his turn as a bespectacled bounty hunter and mentor to Raquel Welch in “Hannie Caulder.” The film itself is flawed, but Culp is a revelation taking on the kind of part we’ve seen a hundred times – the world-weary killer – and spinning gold from it. Had this satisfying but wildly uneven Western revenger been half as good as the actor who effortlessly stole it right out from under his co-stars, he might have been nominated for an Oscar.

Robert Culp could be Elmer Gantry and he could be Labiche.

Great actor, great star, great writer, and a great loss.