| Katherine Helmond of Who's the Boss?
By Bill O'Hallaren
Submitted by taxifan
Katherine Helmond, the serenely dippy Mona on ABC's Who's
the Boss?, suspects that actors, who are otherwise her favorite
people, aren't always as bright as they should be. Especially in judging
their own kind.
She gives as an example the moment two seasons ago when she arrived on
the Benson set with the news that
she was going to direct that week's episode. The reaction of some of the
actors "was dismaying. They thought it was a joke. All their questions
were for some zany, ding-y woman, and they were quite taken aback when
she didn't materialize."
Helmond was especially disappointed, because "actors are the first
to resent typecasting, yet some who should have know better thought they
were going to meet Jessica Tate," the role Helmond sparkled in on
Soap. One who didn't was Benson's
star, Robert Guillaume, who had okayed her assignment.
"Bob is an old friend, but he could have said behind my back, 'Sure,
she's a friend, but I don't want her coming in here experimenting on my
show.' Instead, he gave me that first break." She quickly established
herself as an anything-but-Jessica-Tate-type director and can now divide
her time between being wonderfully dithery on camera and cracking the
whip behind it. "If Katherine decides to devote full time to directing,
she'll be one of the best," according to her mentor, veteran comedy
director Jay Sandrich.
The businesslike way in which Helmond went about becoming a director
tells a good deal about the real woman. "First, I was approved for
the American Film Institute's Directing Workshop for Women. Then I sat
in back of booths and listened and watched and asked questions-and I wasn't
afraid to ask dumb questions. Then I kept pressing, asking to be let in.
I would call people, do you have a slot open? When they say no six times,
you have to call a seventh and eighth." In time she did two Bensons
and will do at least two more, plus a couple of Who's
the Boss? episodes.
Helmond is flattered that Jessica Tate made such an impression and says
Soap itself "was simply a heavenly
time. None of us will ever forget a minute of it." She says this
seriously, as she says almost everything, because this is a logical, organized
woman who doesn't make jokes or say anything feathery and usually speaks
in the rounded sentences of a veteran stage actor in love with the sound
of words. She is also, in the words of Boss's
Tony Danza, "one foxy old broad."
Danza admits being a somewhat more than casual Helmond fan. "She's
the kind of lady, well, you wet your finger before you touch her because
she's hot stuff. A sharpo. A ball of fire."
Danza concedes he and the lady are somewhat differing types. "She
don't smoke, drink, eat meat, nothing. Sometimes I get whacked out and
wake up in the dressing room."
She is also a powerful influence on the set. "In the pecking order,
I'm supposed to be the boss," says Danza, "but sometimes she
seems in charge. When we need a laugh we turn to Katherine. And you should
see her face when one of us steps on a laugh. Ouch!"
Helmond describes Danza as "a high-powered energy machine"
whose life style may offer room for improvement, but "he's so lovable,
and genuinely fond of children." It seems agreed she's somewhat the
headmistress on the set, and in addition to advising where the laughs
are and reminding Danza of the perils of wine, women and hours that cause
the eyes to redden, she leads the lunch-hour tap dancing.
"It gives us a chance to do something with the children [Danny Pintauro
and Alyssa Milano] in which they're naturally better and they enjoy seeing
us make fools of ourselves." Of the children: "They are well
behaved and not bratty, thank heavens." You gather that is high,
and somewhat rare, praise for child actors.
Blake Hunter and Martin Cohan, executive producers of Boss,
originally had a much younger Mona in mind. "She's was going to be
Angela's older sister," Hunter recalls. "Then someone mentioned
Katherine might be available. Just like that, the older sister became
the mother."
Actually, Helmond was only available for a week. "I had made this
pilot with Charles Durning and we were told we were certain to be picked
up. I explained this to Blake and Marty and the said, 'Well, if you're
only available for a week, at least do the pilot'." As it turned
out, the Durning show didn't survive and Who's
the Boss? got a flamboyant mother and, at no extra cost, a comedy
doctor.
Judith Light, who plays Angela, notes, "Katherine will just say,
'Change this word and you'll get a laugh,' and she's always right."
Isn't Helmond, with those big, innocent eyes, a bit of a scene-stealer?
Says Light, diplomatically, "She's so vibrant it's hard to miss her.
I know I don't take my eyes off her. A couple of times she completely
broke me up and it happened so fast it stayed on the tape."
On the show, Helmond always seems to get the slyly sexual lines. Hunter
has found "Katherine is the mistress of little sexual undertones.
She comes as close to innuendo as anyone on TV without offending."
Says Helmond, perhaps a bit smugly, "There are certain ways to say
things that are risqué without offending." Whatever, the show
has been a winner for ABC in an otherwise bleak time and in at least one
recent week had the top rating of anything on the network.
Helmond describes her comedy style as "keeping a feather floating
out there and no matter what, you don't want to let it fall. It's so much
better than swinging a sledgehammer." For those who don't understand
what she means, there's always another police show.
No one except herself ever thought of linking Helmond and comedy prior
to Soap. Producers looked into her
tiny, expressive face and saw a little lady buffeted by a cruel world.
When she came to Hollywood, after years of serious stage work, "I
was always cast as the long-suffering, beaten wife."
Not that she minded Hollywood. "My first job was Gunsmoke,
where I stood on a box and talked to Jim Arness. When I came to work I
found my trailer filled with flowers and fruit and when my check came,
I said, "Wow, I may do this again'."
Some 20 years ago, Helmond was working as a typist in Manhattan during
the day to afford the luxury of doing little theater at night. Now she
and husband David Christian have a house on Long Island, an apartment
in New York, and recently she has been looking for a home in Hollywood.
She and Christian, an artist and designer, have been living together
for 23 years and married for 14. Christian, 10 years her junior, prefers
the East. "We are separated for months, so people ask, 'Do you trust
him? Does he trust you?' I don't cloud my mind with thoughts like that.
If people are going to move away from you emotionally you can be together
night and day and they'll still go," explains Helmond. They have
never had children, "by our own choice." Sandrich says, "It's
amazing to see a couple so separated and yet so caring."
Helmond, at 51, could forget both American acting and directing and have
a sparkling new career in England, where she is rapidly becoming a cult
figure. She has finished "Brazil," her second movie with the
Monty Python zanies, with more promised. "It seems I play the kind
of eccentric rich lady the British love." An English friend told
her, "You remind me so much of Lady Peel [comedienne Bea Lillie],
I always expect you to lift your skirts and roller-skate away."
There are two subjects to which Helmond constantly returns: the happy days
on Soap and the not-so-happy ones
as a poor Irish-Catholic girl growing up in Texas. She was raised by a grandmother,
"a big, strapping Irish woman with orange hair and freckles, the most
wonderful person I ever knew. One day she found me crying in front of the
mirror, sobbing, 'I'm not beautiful.' Grandma said, 'That's right, you're
not, so you better develop a few things that last. The face only falls off
anyway'." The face hasn't fallen off, but as Grandma probably expected,
the little girl has developed a few things that last. |