With an embracing charisma, George Wallace evolved into a political and
cultural reverend for the people of Alabama and the nation. In a subsequent
deal with the devil, he became a blazing symbol of the most shameful era
in American history. His rise to power and fall from grace made Wallace
one of the most controversial political figures in decades, garnering undying
legions of enraged critics and staunch allies throughout the country.
"Wallace is the Faust of our generation, a tragic hero who sold
his soul," says director John Frankenheimer. "He was a fiercely
intense and intelligent man in his time. He knew what he wanted, and the
fact that he chose wrong is what this picture is about. This film either
will or will not speak for itself, and people can offer criticism after
they see it. But whether the audience is for or against George Wallace,
I guarantee it will be emotionally moved."
"This story is an epic human tragedy," says executive producer
Mark Carliner. "It deals with three significant contemporary themes
of American society: race and racism; the fundamental danger of democracy;
and forgiveness and redemption."
The genesis of the project stems from a 1963 documentary by producer
Julian Krainin, who was at the time a fledgling filmmaker covering the Selma
March in Alabama. Krainin's "The March" met critical acclaim,
including honors at the esteemed Venice Film Festival. Twenty-three years
after the march, at the end of Wallace's fourth term as governor in 1986,
Krainin focused again on that memorable era in Southern history. "It
was the greatest social revolution and the story had not yet been told from
the point of view behind the scenes of the white establishment."
The film is based on the critically acclaimed book by Marshall Frady,
who lived in Montgomery during 1966 and `67, studying Wallace in his public
glory and behind closed doors. "He had a fascinating power to engage
and enchant with spryness and wit," says Frady. "Wallace came
alive when he was swimming among the multitudes, and he possessed a folk
genius for connecting with the people and sensing what the particular mood
or humor was at that time." Frankenheimer agrees: "Like Franklin
Roosevelt and Winston Churchill, he had a unique ability to make people
think he was speaking directly to each of them. An interpretation of Wallace
as a one-dimensional villain would be inaccurate, because there is a side
of him that was charming,"
Perhaps unknown to the film's contemporary audience, Wallace did not
always preach segregation. "When he ran for governor for the first
time in 1957, Wallace was a liberal who had the support of the NAACP, the
ACLU and the Jewish population of Alabama. When he publicly opposed the
Klu Klux Klan, he lost the election," says Carliner. "Wallace
wanted constant validation from the masses, and that's what drove him to
power. He decided to wrap himself in the race issue to get elected."
In the `60s, as the South began to evolve into America's own apartheid
society, Wallace's popularity quickly surged. "He sensed discontentment
among the people and he intuited that the entire country was waiting to
be `Southernized,'" says Frady. "Wallace spoke in code to the
issue of racial unease; he condemned the controlling powers in Washington
that told citizens who to hire and where to send children to school, which
was his code for racial antagonism. He alerted America's political management
to a submerged continent of discontent that he himself helped activate."
For the compounded role of Wallace, spanning almost 20 years, Frankenheimer
approached Gary Sinise, whom he describes as "one of the most brilliant
actors" he has ever directed. "The script was so well-written
and John [Frankenheimer] is such a passionate and inspirational director
that I couldn't pass up this project," says Sinise. "Wallace had
the capacity to change, accept his failures and try to do something about
it. To me, that makes a good movie."
Standing alongside Wallace throughout his career were two women very
unlike each other, except for their devotion to him. "Lurleen was the
dutiful politician's wife who sacrificed her health when she ran for governor,"
says Mare Winningham of Wallace's first wife, who helped further his political
ambition when he reached term limits. "She would have done anything
for her husband, and she ended up giving him her life." After Lurleen's
death from cancer, Wallace married Cornelia, the niece of his political
patriarch, Big Jim Folsom. "Cornelia was a fiery Southern woman who
matched Wallace's energy," explains actress Angelina Jolie. "She
was attracted to his confidence and passion. I think she always loved him
and would have stayed with him, but he eventually forced her out."
As another central figure in Wallace's private life, the filmmakers created,
for dramatic purposes, the composite character of Archie, a prison trustee
employed in the governor's service as a domestic aide. "Archie metaphorically
reflects the black consciousness of the time," says Carliner. "There
were certainly people in the black community who had an enormous seething
resentment against Wallace, and Archie represents this climate."
With its ensemble cast in place, the movie commenced production in Los
Angeles. The filmmakers soon cancelled plans to shoot for a few days on
location in Alabama. "The current governor of that state made it clear
that we were not welcome," says Frankenheimer. "That negative
climate and the economic benefits of staying in California lead to our decision,
and the fact that we stayed out of Alabama did not have any affect on this
film."
For several scenes, the production took over the famed Ambassador Hotel
in Los Angeles, a monument to a tragic moment in history that Frankenheimer
remembers well. "The last time I was at the Ambassador was the night
Bobby Kennedy was shot there," he says. "I was very politically
active in the `60s and Kennedy had been staying at my house. I drove him
to his campaign rally that night."
"John [Frankenheimer] has always had a great social awareness and
he's given this project a sense of authenticity and integrity," says
Carliner. "He watched every minute of documentary footage from the
Wallace era to replicate those moments as closely as is humanly possible,
and he rehearsed scenes like he did in the days of Playhouse 90 and
live theater. John wrote the book on this kind of filmmaking."
Cinematic accuracy was Frankenheimer's critical objective. "We had
to create reality and recreate actual events," he says. "When
Wallace was shot at Laurel Plaza in 1972, the cameramen were caught off
guard; they just happened to be there, and we had to reconstruct that feeling.
Many of those publicly recorded moments are ingrained in people's minds,
like the stand at the schoolhouse door, which is in every civil rights documentary.
We shot most of those scenes in black and white because everyone remembers
them that way."
The assassination attempt on Wallace, which ended his run for the Presidency,
marked a significant turn in his life. "After he was shot, Wallace
entered into a misery of spirit," says Frady. "He was oppressed
by the deaths of Jack Kennedy, Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King, and
wondered why he alone was the one who lived. When King's father visited
him, Wallace apologized with tears in his eyes for being the one who survived.
And from his wheelchair, Wallace begged forgiveness from the black congregation
at King's former Montgomery church." In 1982, Wallace was re-elected
Governor of Alabama with the support of a substantial portion of the state's
black voters.
"If he were just a bigot, we wouldn't have made this movie. This
story is about forgiveness and change," says Frankenheimer. Those themes
appealed to Sinise: "Wallace was a symbol of resistance to civil rights,
but he eventually reflected upon his life and realized his mistakes,"
he says. "He apologized for his faults and asked for forgiveness, and
he tried to replace a legacy that was extremely difficult to live down."
"This project is not a narrow political biography of a regional
Southern figure," says Carliner. "Wallace was consumed by the
fires of hatred that he himself stoked. This is what makes great drama,
what gives the story universality and, we hope, provokes some real dialogue
in America. The story is balanced and poignant, and if viewers don't have
a tear in their eye at the end, then we have failed."
Clarence Williams III, who portrays Archie, hopes the film will resonate
for a younger generation. "Baby boomers, young adults and students
may not know this history that has been forgotten over the years,"
he says. "Wallace was one of the seminal characters during the civil
rights movement and he, among others, was responsible for a lot of injury.
Like so many stories from that era, the story of Wallace must be told."
"We are assuming that most of our audience has never heard of George
Wallace," says Sinise. "At the end of this movie, people will
know that he apologized for his actions, but even more will know that he
stood in the schoolhouse door."
For Frankenheimer, the project has been an educational journey. "Prior
to reading this script, I thought Wallace deserved to suffer. I had no idea
that he asked for forgiveness from the blacks and became a born-again Christian,"
he says. "But Wallace is still responsible for a racial uproar that
resulted in the deaths of four little girls in Birmingham. Just because
a man asks for forgiveness doesn't mean it will be granted. Personally,
I find it in my heart to forgive George Wallace, but we're not advocating
forgiveness. We're leaving that door open; the audience can make its own
decision."
