Fighting Tommy Riley
By Robert Koehler

A Visualeyes Prods. presentation in association with Jellyworks, LLC. (International sales: Turtles Crossing, Los Angeles.) Produced by Bettina Tendler O'Mara. Executive producers, Diana Deryez Kessler, Paul Kessler. Co-producers, Randy Turrow, Diana Deryez Kessler, Wayne Witherspoon. Directed by Eddie O'Flaherty. Screenplay, J.P. Davis. Marty Goldberg - Eddie Jones Tommy Riley - J.P. Davis Stephanie - Christina Chambers Diane Stone - Diane M. Tayler Bob Silver - Paul Raci Kane - Don Wallace

In "Fighting Tommy Riley," the winner by a knockout is Eddie Jones. The vet thesp, regularly seen in colorful supporting roles, flexes his considerable muscles as an aging trainer helping revive the career of a boxer who has lost faith in himself. Without Jones, pic is a standard drama on the sweet science with the usual tropes and a slight tweak on the usual conflicts. With Jones, matchups with fests and distribs are possible, while the cable arena is a sure thing.

Tommy (screenwriter J.P. Davis), all pumped up for his match, mentally flashes back seven months to the time he and g.f. Stephanie (Christina Chambers) broke up and when he was berated in a boxing gym for being too aggressive. But his low point was witnessed by boxing manager Diane Stone (Diane M. Tayler) and her partner-trainer Marty (Jones), who liked what he saw in the kid. At first, Marty appears to be the stock figure typical in boxing movies, the older, wiser man who sees greatness where others see a loser. Marty starts by testing Tommy in a gym match against a tough sparring partner, while reminding the short-fused boxer that he needs a bit of anger management.

In the heart-to-heart scenes between Marty and Tommy -- so obligatory in the genre and so often phoned in by actors -- Jones personally pushes the movie to a higher emotional plane. An actor who tends not to just inhabit his roles but move right in and take over the mortgage, Jones appears to understand Marty's empathy for Tommy at a gut level. Jones' Marty is several divisions and degrees away from Burgess Meredith's needling codger in "Rocky," and smart enough to spot Tommy's habit of faking injuries.

Director Eddie O'Flaherty demonstrates a flair for widescreen framing, but keeps to a routine moviemaking style (d.p. Michael Fimognari's vid-lensed image was undercut by vid projection at the Los Angeles fest premiere, though a film transfer is promised). Montages of Tommy's fresh string of victories alternate with private dramas between him and Marty, and then Stephanie, who returns to the picture a little too easily.

A retreat to the woods for training before a title bout raises the stakes, even as Tommy gets pressure from powerful, smooth-tongued fight promoter Bob Silver (Paul Raci) to sign with him and leave Marty. The old trainer has his own secrets and desires, which Jones manages to keep so well hidden that when they burst forth, it has the shock of a jolting scene in an Arthur Miller play. The film doesn't end in Milleresque tragedy, though, but with a grown-up sense of loss.

Davis seems initially too good-looking to take seriously, but he grows into a role he wrote for himself, and Tayler does a pro job of playing counterpoint to whatever Marty has to say. Though it always feels too staged when the action's outside the ring, pic has a sweaty background feel that's impressive for an indie production, and fight scenes play like the real deal. Print screened contained wall-to-wall temp tracks from some of Thomas Newman's and Hans Zimmer's better, moodier scores.

Camera (color, Panavision widescreen, DV), Michael Fimognari; editor, Aram Nigoghossian; production designer, Marla Altschuler; art director, Joe Pew; set decorator, Marsha Daniels; costume designer, Corenna Gibson; makeup, Hella Hazz; sound, Eric Rodriguez; supervising sound editor, Joe Dzuban; associate producer, Don "Kip" Bickel; assistant director, Bernhard Spoon. July 7, 2004. Reviewed at Los Angeles Film Festival, June 20, 2004. Copyright � 2004 Reed Business Information.

Fighting Tommy Riley
By Kevin Thomas

Times Staff Writer

Every once in a while a veteran character actor, after a solid career in films, theater and television, lands a starring role in a movie that is actually worthy of his talent. With "Fighting Tommy Riley" it has happened to Eddie Jones, and he brings the experience of a lifetime in acting to making his character, Marty Goldberg, unforgettable.

Marty has pretty much given up the battle of his own bulge, and the portly, white-haired high school teacher has learned to expect that quotes from Melville, although spoken by him with the utmost eloquence and understanding, are going to be lost on his students. Not in the best of health, he is a solitary man on the threshold of a lonely old age, living in a book-filled home with his beloved pug. Marty, however, once had another life, as a promising boxer and later as a trainer. The one person who seems to care for him is a forceful young woman, Diane (Diane M. Tayler), a boxing promoter who considers Marty her partner because he steered her away from a path of self-destruction. Diane has come across a moody, insecure young fighter named Tommy Riley (J.P. Davis, who also wrote the film's exceptional script) in whom she sees potential, and she persuades Marty to become his trainer. It takes a while for the introverted Tommy to begin to trust Marty, but once he does he begins to come alive outside the ring as well as inside it. By the same token it is clear that Marty is in better spirits than he has been in a very long time, and the month the two men intend to spend at Marty's mountain cabin, where they will prepare for Tommy's big match, looks to be an especially happy period for both of them.

Both Davis' script and Eddie O'Flaherty's direction match Jones' performance in subtlety. From the first moment Marty appears there seems to be a shadow hovering over him, and there are signs of an ingrained, unshakable sadness in him. It's not surprising that in time Marty should feel love for Tommy or that the boxer begin to regard Marty as a father figure. There comes a moment of realization when the nature of Marty's feelings becomes clear, and there is at this point a shift in focus, from the consideration of the complex interplay of secrecy and repression within Marty to the contradictory feelings that sweep over the deeply loyal Tommy. The boxing sequences in "Fighting Tommy Riley" are intense and convincing, but as with "Million Dollar Baby" it's what happens outside the ring that lingers in the heart.

In watching Jones become Marty it's easy to see how Jones won prizes for his portrayal of Willie Loman in "Death of a Salesman" on stage. Jones knows how to reach so deep inside himself and is in such command of his acting skills that Marty's every gesture, look and movement is expressive and revealing � even when it means to be concealing.

Davis' Tommy is no less fully realized, and Tayler's Diane is also well drawn. Christina Chambers is effective as Tommy's uncomplicated girlfriend, who does not always understand him, which figures because he's often struggling to understand himself. This small, lovingly crafted film continually surprises with its depth and resonance. 'Fighting Tommy Riley' MPAA rating: R for language, some sexual content Times guidelines: Adult themes and situations Eddie Jones...Marty Goldberg J.P. Davis...Tommy Riley Diane M. Tayler...Diane Stone Christina Chambers...Stephanie Bob Silver...Paul Raci A Freestyle Releasing and Visualeyes Productions release. Producer-director Eddie O'Flaherty. Producer Bettina Tendler O'Mara. Executive producers Diana Derycz Kessler and Paul Kessler. Screenplay by J.P. Davis. Cinematographer Michael Fimognari. Editor Aram Nigoghossian. Production designer Marla Altschuler. Art director Joe Pew. Set decorator Marsha Daniels. Running time: 1 hour, 49 minutes. Exclusively at the Regent, 614 No. La Brea Ave., L.A., (323) 934-2944. Copyright 2005 Los Angeles Times.

Fighting Tommy Riley

By Brian Brooks

Hamptons International Film Festival feature "Fighting Tommy Riley" from newcomer Eddie O'Flaherty and J.P. Davis has been acquired by the recently formed Santa Monica distributor Freestyle Releasing, the company announced over the weekend.

The film, which received the Kodak Award for Cinematography at the festival, stars J.P. Davis, who also wrote the screenplay, and actor Eddie Jones, as a boxing team who must deal with their own personal demons as they struggle to establish themselves on the fighting circuit.

Susan Jackson, CEO and president of acquisitions at Freestyle negotiated the deal with Bettina Tendler O' Mara on behalf of Visualeyes Productions and Jellyworks. Freestyle will handle North American theatrical distribution, and will release the film in the second quarter of 2005. Based on Davis' screenplay, the film was financed and produced by O'Mara's Visualeyes Productions and Jellyworks, and had its world premiere at the IFP Los Angeles Film Festival back in June. It screened in competition this weekend in The Hamptons and CURB Entertainment is handling international sales.

"Eddie O'Flaherty and J.P. Davis have delivered a knock-out feature film debut of fierce intensity with beautifully realized characters, exceptionally acted by all, with veteran character actor Eddie Jones giving a powerful star turning performance which is the tragic center of the film," commented Freestyle Releasing exec Susan Jackson in a statement."

The fight scenes are spectacular in their reality and the film is a great combination of character, action and story." Freestyle Releasing was formed by Susan Jackson, formerly of Turtles Crossing, Mark Borde from Innovation Film Group, and Mike Doban from Arcangelo Entertainment. Their first release is James Redford's "Spin."

Fighting Tommy Riley

What We Saw At The Hamptons International Film Festival

A unique look into the life and relationship between a budding professional boxer who "almost" made the Olympic Team a few years earlier (played by JP Davis who also wrote the screenplay) and his trainer played by Eddie Jones. Director Eddie O'Flaherty takes the audience through the highs and lows of these two characters and their struggle to deal with their tortured souls, through the story of a struggling young boxer who doesn't believe in himself and a worn down trainer who convinces him that he's got the talent and skill to win. The dynamic performances and chemistry between the two actors is remarkable. Veteran actor Eddie Jones grabs your heart and challenges our place in society. The boxing scenes are authentically recreated. You will leave the theater believing that dreams do come true and true friendships are forever. With other notable performances by Christina Chambers, Diane M. Tayler, Paul Racci and Don Wallace. �KK

Death of a Salesman

By Dany Margolies

November 08, 2006

This Arthur Miller classic is relatively foolproof. It's a magic carpet on which skilled actors can lift audiences to dizzying heights, an enchanted lantern that lights long-darkened corners of our emotions. But those who know the script, who have seen the greats perform the paradigmatic roles, who are familiar with realism and memory plays and clever amalgams of both, may be disappointed in the staging here�no reflection on the uniformly superb cast, from principals through bit players.

Eddie Jones is Willie Loman, acing this mettle-testing iconic part, wearing with equal parts dignity and shame the heavy mantle of sadness and fear and irritability.

As Linda, Anne Gee Byrd takes Willie's guff squarely on the chin, letting us feel the punch instead; Byrd is motherly and worn, but we can see glimpses of the girl Willie married, and it makes his transgressions even more pathetic. Aaron McPherson gives Happy more dimension than is usually seen, his reactions and presence intensifying every family interaction. Ivan Baccarat's glorious voice lets us hear Biff's many ages and moods.

Jill Jacobson's The Woman is surprisingly and delightfully nonvillainous. As Charley, Alan Charof is an acting lesson of his own, fully immersed in onstage action. Robert Machray is snobby yet sepulchral as Uncle Ben. Director Bob Collins gets high marks for his casting (with Coleen Kalbacher). But although each actor is first-rate, they seem not to have jelled together. They don't occupy a cohesive world�taking into consideration that some characters are clearly more of Willie's memory than others. Is the whole a memory play in Collins' vision? Only if so, then the walls that some characters see through while others don't are slightly less troubling. Gelareh Khalioun's costumes seem to borrow from various periods; again, it works if the play is strictly memory, except that Biff's present-day style distracts from the character's period morality. And we can hear the actors gathering backstage for their curtain calls while Linda is speaking over Willie's grave. Attention must be paid.

Death of a Salesman

By Kelly Monaghan

Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman enjoys iconic status in the American theatrical canon and justly so. However, in an odd way, its success has worked against it. Revivals tend to attract mega-stars to the role of Willie Loman and the productions built around them tend to strive for operatic grandeur. The result is often less than successful, as perfectly illustrated by recent productions starring Dustin Hoffman and Brian Dennehy. The Willies we get in these bloated, star-driven vehicles are intriguingly idiosyncratic (Hoffman) or downright bathetic (Dennehy), but the play inevitably suffers.

Now Los Angeles' estimable Odyssey Theatre is presenting a human-scale reading of the play that allows it to speak with the quiet power that I think Miller intended. The Odyssey production, under the unobtrusive direction of Bob Collins, allows veteran character actor Eddie Jones to turn in a masterful performance that is quite literally heart-wrenching. I have never seen Miller's merciless deconstruction of the American myth of success rendered more powerfully or more simply. I confess that I am unfamiliar with Jones' work, but if this isn't the greatest performance of his career then I feel cheated from having missed him in earlier roles.

Linda Loman, Willie's long-suffering wife, is often portrayed as a beaten-down woman in performances that are muted to avoid drawing attention from the star. Anne Gee Byrd is something a revelation, giving us a Linda Loman who lives up to Biff's description of her as a "woman with substance." She is quite simply superb, every inch Jones' equal and, through her love and loyalty, we are able to see the Willie that was in the sad, beaten man who is. Ivan Baccarat (Biff) and Aaron McPherson (Happy) as the Loman's flawed sons do a good job of making concrete the fatal flaws in the world view Willie wants so desperately to pass on to them. Baccarat works especially well with Jones. The scene late in the play in which Biff sees Willie at his most-human and most-pathetic is embarrassing to watch, which is just as it should be. Miller, unlike most other playwrights, has the gift of creating small roles that allow good actors to score indelible impressions with a few scant moments of stage time. The supporting performers in this production seize the opportunity. Robert Machray (Uncle Ben), Alan Charof (Charley), Jeremy Shouldis (Bernard), and Lou Volpe (Stanley, the waiter) are all excellent. And Jill Jacobson (The Woman) makes Willie's cruel betrayal of Linda perfectly understandable.

Death of a Salesman

By T.S Kerrrigan

American Reporter Theater Critic

May 8, 2002

Los Angeles -- Arthur Miller's American masterpiece, a penetrating examination of both what Samuel Johnson called "The Vanity of Human Wishes" and what Francois Mauriac called "The Desert of Love," is currently receiving a monumental production at the Interact in North Hollywood under the inspired direction of Anita Khanzadian. It can be said without hyperbole that it is one of the best interpretations of this play that local audiences are likely to see.

Certainly, Eddie Jones is the equal or superior of anyone this reviewer has seen in the role of Willie Loman, and that includes Frederic March (from the film), Lee J. Cobb and Dustin Hoffman (on television), and more recently Brian Denehy (who Vincent Canby correctly observed was probably miscast in the role). Jones gives a powerful and complex portrait of a decent man whose life and career have reached rock bottom in a world of false values. He gives the full range of Willie's bluster, anger, weakness and frustration in a manner that is always convincing. The contradictions of the character, that have been known to trouble lesser actors, are dealt with credibly. One cannot readily imagine a more consummate performance.

Other standouts in this production include Thomas Vincent Kelly as the shallow Happy, James Gleason as the pragmatic Charley, the opposite of Willie in personality and philosophy who nonetheless gives him the proper epitaph as a man "way out there in the blue, riding on a smile and a shoeshine." Marilyn McIntyre gives us a different Linda than we have seen before. The faithful wife of Willie, she has an ageless quality here. The choices McIntyre makes are never obvious and essentially effective. In the "attention must be paid" speech she is completely compelling.

Most of the smaller roles are also well realized. Kelly Connell makes a perfect Howard Wagner, Willie's insensitive young boss. Steven Hack is fine as Bernard, and Bob Larkin fine as Uncle Ben. Don Fischer seems a little out of his element as Biff in the beginning, but comes on stronger in the end.

Thomas Buderwitz's rather bare set is realistic, especially the period refrigerator which Willie rails against. J. Kent Inasy's lighting is evocative of the time and mood of the piece, and a definite improvement over the gloomy darkness seen at the Ahmanson. Paul Cuneo's original music is also complimentary.

This is the kind of treatment that Miller's greatest play deserves. It should under no circumstance be missed by anyone with an interest in American theater.

Death of a Salesman

By T.H. McCulloh

Showmag.com

When Noel coward went to see the original production of Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman, producer Irene Selznick told him it wasn't a play, it was an experience. Afterward, Coward said to her, "Oh, I wish it had been a play." It still has problems, even though it has become something of a classic, but none of the dramaturgical problems can be corrected until Miller's copyright runs out. Face it, many people today think Shakespeare's plays have problems, so Miller's in good company.

One of the problems is the central role, fading salesman Willie Loman. It's one of those roles, like Richard III and King Lear, that tricks most actors to a size larger than life and twice as noisy. The original Willie, Lee J. Cobb, blustered and trumpeted Willie, waved his arms like a windmill and acted it all over the stage without shame. Brian Dennehy's Willie of a couple of years ago was a good match for Cobb. On the other hand, one of Cobb's Broadway replacements, Thomas Mitchell, a much more technically trained actor, was much deeper and richer, had a great deal more subtext and was thankfully interior and therefore more powerful. Like Lear and other similar tragic monuments, Willie is more effective when the great drama is inside him and not spilling into the orchestra.

That's the advantage Eddie Jones has as Willie in this fine production at Interact Theatre in North Hollywood. His tone and sense of detail is closer to Mitchell, while still an individual portrait that is painted in rich chiaroscuro, toned with subtlety and very touching. When Jones does become bigger than life, there's a valid reason for it other than bowling over the viewer. His Willie shines with a light deep within Jones' conception.

On Thomas Buderwitz's simple but very effective and utilitarian setting, and lit with a fine sense of mood and shading by J. Kent Inasy, the play is directed by Anita Khanzadian flawlessly and with a sure connection to Miller's intent. Marilyn McIntyre's Linda, looking a bit younger for the role, is nonetheless a rich evocation of a woman living without restraint, living for her man and her boys, solid in her belief in Willie's value and desperately concerned for his welfare. It's an enriching picture of those women who seem to live for home and family but are strong enough to battle her closest for her husband's survival.

Almost as difficult as Willie are the characters of his sons, 34-year-old Biff, who's a failure as a man, as he was a phony success as a teenage sports hero, and younger son Happy, a sleazy, self-absorbed boob without much concern for his father's problem as long as he gets laid regularly. Don Fischer is ultimately touching as Biff as his actual relationship with Willie unfolds and his own image of self-worth proves pointless. As Happy, Thomas Vincent Kelly thankfully provides enough likable qualities to make Happy's sleaze at least acceptable until it overpowers his own relationship with Willie. The best of Willie's sons to be seen in a long time.

A Letter to Eddie

Dear Eddie and Anita,
As I've been reading the obituaries/articles of Arthur Miller with their in-depth discussions of "Death of a Salesman," I've been reliving the astonishing production you brought us. Both in the Interactivity reading and the full production, we in the audience were knocked dumb. Yes, it's an extremely powerful play as written, absolutely brilliant, one of the greatest ever written. But your staging and interpretation worked special magic. Being in such close physical proximity certainly gave it extra power - no safe distance from which to view; we were eavesdroppers and couldn't escape. By the end we were holding our breaths, anticipating the inevitable but still holding out hope for this misguided, rudderless man. Anita, you found all of the nooks and crannies, guiding us through it artfully: clean, spare and poignant, your direction allowed the enormity of the story to unfold without clutter: with clarity and power, beautifully calibrated. We knew we were in good hands from the get-go.

Eddie, I shall never forget your accomplishment as Willie Loman. You ripped my heart out, but you did it honestly. You met the man and the two of you became one. You belong in the pantheon, next to Lee J. Cobb and the others whom they trumpet in the articles. At the end, gripping your packet of seeds, lost and desperate, I wanted to run up on the stage and save you from yourself. This is no mean accomplishment as we had seen the Willie who was also capable of less-than-honorable behavior. Your vulnerability combined with the last breath of determinism, talking yourself into believing in what had defined your life even as it is slipping away... the scene in the office with Jimmy Gleason, as you are grasping for a shred of dignity, was so alive and true and painful it was difficult to watch - and all the rest; how specific and fully-realized the psychology of this man was in the moment-to-painful-moment unraveling... to say your performance was memorable is putting it mildly. I love you both and thank you for giving me this experience.

The Dreamer Examines His Pillow
By Dany Margolies
Sept 12, 2007

The Dreamer Examines His Pillow
By Laura Hitchcock
 

The Dreamer Examines His Pillow

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