"Harry and Tonto" @50: In defense of Art Carney's Oscar Win
Sunday, August 11, 2024 at 9:30PM 
After the dust settles and the rush of euphoria dissipates, an Oscar victory can be cause for woe rather than joy. Sometimes, a win is a loss in the big picture, even something of a curse. The effects may not be immediate or felt in the flesh by the prizewinner. Not in life, at least. It's their legacy that takes the toll. Those considered robbed will always have their defenders, misfortune becoming legend, another kind of validation no less impressive than the little gold man they failed to grasp. But those who the Academy rewarded are a different story. They become villains in recollection, mayhap fools. It's a sad affair because, more often than not, those whom history paints in these unfortunate colors are themselves robbed. The glory of victory isn't theirs to enjoy, merit buried by outrage over injustice.
Such is the case of Art Carney, who won the Best Actor Oscar at the 47th Academy Awards for the now 50-year-old Harry and Tonto, besting such high-regarded turns as Pacino in The Godfather Part II and Nicholson in Chinatown. Did he deserve the prize? Maybe not. Does he deserve to have his triumph regarded as a mistake, a joke, a robbery? Hell no…
Director Paul Mazursky may be one of the most forgotten figures of New Hollywood, all things considered. At the height of his success, he was attuned to the epoch's mood like few of his colleagues, tackling the changing social mores with a light hand and the appearance of wit. Perhaps because his style was so unassuming, his formal risks nil, Mazursky could produce accessible cinema within a new industry paradigm. Always character-forward, his pictures spoke to the audience with minimal alienation or challenge, providing a sense of connection, some warmth, a gentle laugh that bore little cruelty or snark.
But of course, the reasons for his popularity can be seen as the cause for his small footprint in the annals of film history. Though he was championed by such big-name critics as Roger Ebert and Pauline Kael, nowadays, he's probably best remembered for the performances he directed. Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice and An Unmarried Woman are exceptions to the rule, but even they are often discovered by the viewer's interest in their performers rather than the man behind the camera. I know I first came to Paul Mazursky's work because of the Oscar nominations his casts accrued, six out of a 15-feature filmography. Then again, I can say the same about many a master of cinema.
Out of the sextet, only one thespian won – Art Carney in 1974's Harry and Tonto. At the time of the production, he wasn't much of a big screen presence, having started his career on radio before making the jump to TV. His breakthrough came in the form of Ed Norton, a sewer worker side-character from The Honeymooners, that earned him half a dozen Emmys and the public's adoration. Such high regard was the likely reason why Mazursky offered him the titular role of Harry. At first, the director wanted James Cagney, but the Old Hollywood gangster wasn't interested, and while Laurence Olivier was the studio's choice, he didn't feel right.
It's difficult to imagine the movie as it is now working with either of those actors, so oft inclined to showcase their transformations and highlight their efforts. Harry and Tonto would likely collapse under the pressure they'd bring to it, losing the good-natured gentility that defines its tone, the de-dramatized register that keeps it feeling so intentionally small. Though perhaps Olivier and Cagney could contradict Mazursky and Josh Greenfeld's recurrent slips into downright schmaltz. Or they'd have made it worse by overemphasizing that facet when Carney's low-key approach is its own sort of transformation cum temperance.
At the start of his journey, Harry is a retired teacher who lives alone in the building where he and his wife raised their children. His only company is Tonto, a loyal orange tomcat Harry won't leave behind when, upon his eviction, he embarks on a trip across the US. What ensues is a road movie brimming with nostalgia and the sorrows of old age, the affairs of a quiet man reconnecting with old friends along the way and making new ones, too, feeling the sweet pain of the many ghosts who haunt his memory, reflecting upon it all with the little time he's got left. It'd be easy to go for the sentimentality, but Carney has other priorities.
First and foremost, there's the matter of age. Unlike the elder statesmen of the motion pictures who were considered for the role early on, Carney was considerably younger than the character. The erstwhile TV star was in his fifties and much of his outward effort manifests in the signifiers of an elder's dereliction. He was covered in aging cosmetics, pantomiming a failing ear during phone calls and a doddering walk whenever Harry tries to move too fast for his tired physique. Most apparent in the picture's early scenes, this quality fades away as one gets used to Carney's characterization.
For all that he might put the pedal to the metal a bit too forcefully in regards to his old man antics, the actor holds back when it comes to projecting emotion. Take a scene when Harry finds an old crush, now living in a home and losing her battle with memory loss. Though Mazursky overeggs the recipe with soppy closeups and a chintzy score, Carney refrains from doing so. His expression is closed but not off-putting, his manner patient but never beatific. There's a hint of disappointment, the blush of tenderness that speaks to a love that used to burn and boil but now merely simmers. It's a treasure of long-lost youth, not the centerpiece of the self.
One can't say Carney goes against what Mazursky asks from his leading man. Instead, he brings out the best in the director's amiable realism and prevents the picture from losing itself within the auteur's poorest choices. Whenever he's given a scene partner willing to play the game of reticence, he's even more impressive. Take the reunion with his daughter – an impressive if underutilized Ellen Burstyn – and marvel at the notes each actor chooses to play and which keys they leave untouched. Consider how Harry comforts his son – a surprisingly affecting Larry Hagman – without allowing him as much kindness as the old man's willing to dispense on Tonto.
Not that the cat is especially coddled. Carney wasn't used to feline companions when he shot Harry and Tonto, but quickly grew fond of his furry costar. While one could expect that newfound feeling to inform the performance, his handling of Harry's pet is that of an old man and an old cat. There's great care married to a certain no-nonsense practicality, the spirit of pragmatism that leaves little space for cutesy stuff. As an unashamed cat person, I confess I wanted more of a spotlight on the orange boy. That said, I respect the film's disinterest in the scenario's mawkishness. If only it had ended five minutes earlier before the finale covered the screen in syrup.
Whether because Mazursky never wrote him the material or because the actor turned away from over-demonstrativeness, Carney doesn't have an 'Oscar scene.' In some ways, that only makes his victory more impressive. It's a very reactive achievement and nobody expected him to take it, with Jack Nicholson being the far-out favorite from the nominated five – which also included Pacino, Albert Finney as Poirot, and Dustin Hoffman's Lenny. Three of the nominees didn't even show up at the ceremony, which looked bound to end with the Chinatown star victorious. The New York Daily News even insinuated Carney shouldn't bother to attend. Thankfully, he didn't listen to the naysayers and was present to accept the surprise Oscar.
Nicholson would get his prize the following season, bolstered by the industry-wide notion he was overdue a win. Indeed, it's not his shadow that looms over Carney's shock success. Instead, it's Al Pacino's loss that most erodes the legacy of Harry and Tonto. In retrospect, most agree the thespian should have won an Oscar during the 70s, pointing to The Godfather Part II as the logical place to honor him. Unfortunately, he wouldn't win until 1992, a make-up honor that crowned one of his worst and most parodied performances instead of a classic turn. Wouldn't it be nicer to have an Oscar history where Pacino got his dues for Michael Corleone rather than the hooah-ing mess in Scent of a Woman?
Still, that's not Carney's fault, nor does it invalidate the modest virtues he gets to showcase in Harry and Tonto. As the film celebrates the half-century mark, let's remember its glories over its mediocrity, the grace in its leading actor's performance rather than the misfortune of who he beat to the Oscar stage.
Harry and Tonto isn't streaming anywhere right now, but you can find it on physical media.
Reader Comments (12)
As I remember it, some of us Oscar zealots believed Carney was an easy pick for Best Actor. The ceremony was marred by recent refusals of the award by George C. Scott for Patton and Marlon Brando for The Godfather. AMPAS was determined to honor recipients who wanted to win, who would be grateful for the recognition, and who would not further tarnish the shine on the statuette.
The previous year Jack Lemmon bested seemingly perpetual nominees Al Pacino and Jack Nicholson with a victory for the overwrought melodrama Save The Tiger. During the voting window, Lemmon appeared in numerous venues to proclaim his desire for a Best Actor Oscar. And the Academy wanted a winner who was happy.
Lemmon didn’t disappoint. He concluded his acceptance speech, “I just want to say one more thing. In recent years especially there has been a great deal of criticism about this award. And probably a great deal of that criticism is very justified. I would just like to say that whether it's justified or not, I think it is one hell of an honor and I am thrilled. And I thank you all very, very much.”
That was celebrated in the press as a balm to recent wounds from those who declined their awards. Looking at Carney’s fellow nominees, all regarded as New Hollywood brats for their indifference to seasoned traditions and ritual, the prospect of honoring a hard working veteran, journeyman actor like Carney who was enjoying a bright moment in the spotlight was a fairy tale ending that few voters could resist.
Finbar I think you have hit the nail on the head,you are the winner of this weeks challenge.
He may have beaten legendary performances and more worthy performances and let's not forget Hackman my winner for that year who wasn't nominated but i's certainly not an embarrassing Malek level type performance or win.
Great chemistry with co stars even the cat and a general likeable picture and a it's non showy role.
Critical ranking:
Hoffman/Pacino (tie)
Finney/Nicholson (tie)
Carney
Sentimental ranking:
Finney
Hoffman
Nicholson
Pacino
Carney
Either way not Carney for me
Finbar McBride -- That's a great point about the eagerness to reward something who'd appreciate the award. It was an interesting time for the Oscars.
I would go so far as saying Nicholson understood the general mood that led to Carney's win, even if he expected to win. Reading material from the time and INSIDE OSCAR really paints a picture of how he was the predicted winner in the Best Actor race. The CHINATOWN actor even said, "Maybe in 1976 I'll be the sentimental favorite." He was sort of right on that one, and he did win, at long last.
MrRipley79 -- Hackman is my winner for 1974 too!
FrankZappa -- I'd probably rank them like this: Pacino>Nicholson>Hoffman>Carney>Finney.
I'd rank them like this without Hackman who is beyond superlatives.
Pacino,NicholsonCarney,Hoffman,Finney.
My own nominees Hackman,Pacino,Nicholson,Carney with Walter Matthau in The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3 in 5th.
Jack Nicholson was robbed. Period. Full stop.
Nicholson was the victim of the very anti-Chinatowm movement in Hollywood. Its one win, for Screenplay, out of 11 nominations was clearly a sop, and how else to explain John Huston not even being nominated for Best Supporting Actor and the nominations of Michael V. Gazzo and Jeff Bridges ?!
Anyway, my rankings: Nicholson/(Hackman)/Finney/Hoffman/Pacino/Carney.
Paul Mazursky's finest moment was his award-worthy performance in Alex in Wonderland. Overall, it's truly godawful, but his scene-stealing performance is total hoot.
Glenda Jackson!
The look in all the nominees faces in the 70's!
I think a lot of people take Pacino for granted? His performance in The Godfather was already flawless to the point that when you're going to see The Godfather Part II for the first time you don't expect him to have something else to do with the character, and then he resists the urge to do something more outlandish and closes himself delivering a masterful, chilling, understated performance. He barely moves any muscle, and then his two outbursts with Fredo (the kiss) and Kay (It was an abortion, Michael) hit you like a ton of bricks. But then he is back to his normal paralysis and his performance gets even more haunting - see the scene Kay tries to see the children, and he appears and closes the door without betraying any emotion. OMFG, what a performance!
Other than Hackman, who was not nominated, nobody comes even close? (and I love Hoffman in Lenny and Nicholson in Chinatown). The fact that he goes from Godfather 2 to Dog Day Afternoon makes him the clear winner as the best actor of the 70's.
He really should have won for Dog Day Afternoon (sorry-not-sorry, Jack)...
One things for sure the likes of Al,Jack,De Niro,Caan,Hackman,Duvall,Hoffman,Dern where all on fire in the 70's and sometimes it's hard to pick a winner in any given year considering they're all so fantastic.
Not to mention Scheider, Redford, Cassavetes, Sutherland and Newman.
I'd have given it to Pacino among the nominees, but I don't think there's a bad performance among the bunch (no, not even Finney, whose performance I realize is quite divisive). 1974 is in contention for best year for movies ever (even if there are a few I'd rank above it), so narrowing any of the categories down to five that year must have been difficult.
I'll of course echo the sentiments that it really should have been Gene Hackman that year if we are to include non-nominees, and I'll throw in a mention for another Gene who I would also nominate over at least three of the nominees: Gene Wilder would have been a totally worthy nominee for Young Frankenstein. I'm actually shocked he didn't even manage a Golden Globe nod in the Comedy category.