The Miracle Worker (1979)

          In a clever bit of stunt casting, the producers of The Miracle Worker, a made-for-TV remake of the celebrated 1962 film, hired Patty Duke to play the leading role of Annie Sullivan, the heroic real-life teacher who taught blind and deaf child Hellen Keller to communicate in the 1880s. Duke, of course, first gained fame by portraying Keller on Broadway in 1959 and then by reprising the role opposite Anne Bancroft (as Sullivan) in the aforementioned 1962 film. Duke won a Tony for the play, an Oscar for the movie, and an Emmy for this telefilm. All three of these versions of The Miracle Worker were written by William Gibson, who extrapolated the material from Keller’s autobiography. Gibson presents Sullivan’s work with Keller as a psychological duel, so the story provides fantastic opportunities for actors—Sullivan and Keller battle mentally and physically as the teacher tries to break through the student’s fear. And if Duke’s work as Sullivan is ultimately more pedestrian than her famous childhood performance as Keller, she generates palpable intensity with her telefilm costar, Little House on the Prairie actress Melissa Gilbert.

          The telefilm opens by introducing Sullivan, who was partially cured of blindness during childhood and then devoted her life to teaching the visually impaired. She’s impassioned, strident, and willful. Then the picture introduces the Keller family. Living in a comfortable country house, parents Captain Keller (Charles Siebert) and Kate Keller (Diana Muldaur) treat Helen differently from their other children, resigned to the fact that Helen will never escape the private world of her disabilities. The Kellers hire Sullivan with low expectations, and Sullivan quickly alienates Helen’s parents by accusing them of spoiling Helen. Indeed, Helen gets her way by throwing tantrums. Sullivan pushes back against Helen’s demonstrative behavior, even matching Helen slap for slap when Helen attempts to scare her teacher away with violence. Eventually, Sullivan teaches Helen to use hand movements for communication, the “miracle” of the title.

          Gibson’s narrative is so solid that even the perfunctory nature of TV-movie acting and production values cannot diminish the story’s innate power. It’s moving, if unsurprising, whenever Sullivan makes progress with Helen, although the novelty of seeing Duke play opposite what amounts to a younger version of herself ultimately adds very little. In fact, Duke alone isn’t what makes this telefilm work, since interplay is the core of The Miracle Worker. Gilbert relies on commitment whenever her technique is insufficient, just as Duke imbues her characterization with intensity. Therefore, this version of The Miracle Worker may be about the work more than the miracle, but that’s good enough for achieving an acceptable level of quality.

The Miracle Worker: GROOVY

Little House on the Prairie (1974)

          A precursor to the oppressively wholesome dramatic series of the same name, the telefilm Little House on the Prairie is a solid piece of work considering that principal creative force Michael Landon generated 98 minutes of slick entertainment without employing any real dramatic conflict. Famous for his role as Little Joe Cartwright on the megahit Western series Bonanza (1959-1973), Landon served as coproducer, director, and star for this adaptation of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s book. The book, second in a long series extrapolated from the author’s childhood adventures, offers a warm autobiographical sketch of the Ingalls family’s relocation from Wisconsin to the Kansas prairie circa the 1860s. As dramatized by Landon, from a script by Blanche Hanalis, Little House on the Prairie is a heartening study in goodness, perseverance, and tolerance.

          Dauntless patriarch Charles Ingalls (Landon) leads his family on a dangerous trek through rough rapids, unforgiving plains, and winter storms until they arrive in open land they believe is available for settlers. Befriending a grizzled but kindly settler named Isaiah Edwards (Victor French), Charles and his wife, Caroline (Karen Grassle), build a small house in which they nurture their children, despite the ever-present threat of hostile Indians and natural disasters. Putting a heavy focus on religious faith, the film depicts the Ingalls clan surmounting the Indian problem quite easily—since it turns out the local natives are friendly people interested only in cultural exchange and the trading of goods—and surviving the potential catastrophe of a brush fire thanks to divine intervention, in the form of a sudden rainstorm. Through it all, Charles teaches lessons while sounding a lot more like a ’70s family therapist than an Old West pioneer. Charles and his relatives talk about their feelings a lot, particularly in scenes between Charles and his daughter Laura (Melissa Gilbert), whose character provides the film’s narration. (This device continued during the series, in which the Laura character inherits the nickname “Half-Pint.”)

          Landon’s performance in this movie is charismatic to a fault, since many scenes feel as if they were designed solely to showcase the saintly qualities of the protagonist, and even the moments when Charles displays weakness embellish the hero-worship approach. That said, humanistic values are commendable in any context, and it’s hard to fault the film’s message about the importance of familial loyalty, hard work, and humility. Plus, there’s a lot of narrative business about the ubiquity of dirt on the prairie, and there’s even a running gag about spitting, so the film isn’t totally antiseptic—though it’s close. As to whether the world actually needed 204 episodes and three reunion movies continuing the Ingalls odyssey, well, that’s a discussion for another day.

Little House on the Prairie: FUNKY