ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1997, Roanoke Times
DATE: Friday, April 11, 1997 TAG: 9704110028
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 2 EDITION: METRO
DATELINE: LOS ANGELES
SOURCE: DENNIS ANDERSON Associated Press Writer
The cluttered back room of Watson's General Store is shadowed and musty, with a cloud of cigar smoke hanging thick as a theater curtain.
Behind the murk, John Frankenheimer leans forward in the director's chair, waiting for the drama to unfold.
The big, rangy, silver-haired man - director of film classics such as ``The Manchurian Candidate'' and ``The Birdman of Alcatraz'' - has been sitting in the canvas seat for more than 40 years.
In recent years, Frankenheimer has returned to his original creative form - television drama. Using craft honed in showcases like ``Playhouse 90,'' Frankenheimer has endowed the small screen with works of big-screen grandeur.
Within the past four years, he's directed movies for television on subjects as raw as all human nature: the riot at Attica state prison in ``Against The Wall,'' the ordeal of Yankee POWs in ``Andersonville,'' the destruction of the rain forests in ``The Burning Season.''
``Cable movies are really the place where you can try cutting edge material,'' he said.
In the biographical film he's directing for TNT, a young George Wallace, running for governor of Alabama in the segregated South, is about to meet the devil at the crossroads.
Wallace is played by Gary Sinise from a script by political biographer Marshal Frady. The program is scheduled to air in August.
Out on Wilshire Boulevard, traffic hurries by the crumbling ruin of the old Ambassador Hotel where the real-life tragedy of Sen. Robert F. Kennedy's assassination played out in 1968.
Inside the hotel, which is being used as a set, the year is 1957. The place is Wallace's campaign headquarters, Watson's General Store, where the Klan is paying a visit.
In the scene, candidate Wallace is chided for being soft on blacks by a Klansman played chillingly by actor Clancy Imislund, who practically oozes his lines.
The rehearsal looks good. Frankenheimer wants it on film.
``Action!''
The Klansman in porkpie hat and thrift store sport coat leans forward in an old wooden chair, peering myopically through Coke bottle-thick glasses. He looks like a nightmarish version of a Norman Rockwell grandfather.
``Judge, let's get one thing straight,'' the Klan leader says. ``We're not talking about order and decency. We're talking about saving the white race by any means necessary.''
Frankenheimer's craggy features beam with appreciation.
``You nailed it,'' the Emmy-winning director calls out to Imislund.
The actor nods his thanks. In real life, Imislund runs a Skid Row mission. For Frankenheimer, he's a rough diamond ready to shimmer.
``Acting is reality in imaginary circumstances,'' Frankenheimer says. A director's job is ``to make it real for the actor.''
The story of the segregationist governor paralyzed by a would-be assassin's bullet in 1972 plays as Shakespearean tragedy, according to Frankenheimer.
Wallace blocked the school-room door in a futile attempt to halt integration. He later repented his deeds before a congregation of the black constituents he once mistreated.
``The story of George Wallace is the story of Faust, with parts of Richard III thrown in,'' Frankenheimer says. ``George Wallace had such talent, such force ... all of it channeled wrong.''
Whether Wallace should be forgiven remains an open question, the director says. Telling his story now is important in times that remain racially tense.
``This country is racially divided,'' the director said. However, he added, ``The gods punished George Wallace very severely. ... I happen to believe a man can change.''
The ``Wallace'' project has already raised enough controversy to keep the production from filming in Alabama.
Wallace - very much alive in his home state - objects to the script, which he contends is inaccurate: In one part, he is depicted as suicidal. In another part, a composite character of a black personal servant of the governor ponders killing him.
Producer Mark Carliner contends Wallace's depression after his wounding is documented and argues the use of composite characters to give focus to historical material is legitimate.
``We hope we're going to spur conversations in the kitchens and living rooms of America,'' Carliner said. ``We're just saying, `Wait and watch the film.'''
LENGTH: Medium: 84 linesby CNB