Burgess Meredith

The actor who survived his own face

Burgess Meredith didn't have leading-man looks, but his voice could fill the whole room. He started on the Broadway stage in the 1930s. He honed his craft with Orson Welles at the Mercury Theatre, and he soon realized the industry preferred men with rough edges. In that square-jawed Hollywood, his small frame was a problem for the accountants.

In 1939, he starred in The Grapes of Wrath. That adaptation of Steinbeck's novel earned him the respect critics often deny supporting actors. He played George Milton with a restraint that still feels uncomfortable today. That was how he reached the top, before politics sent him into the wilderness.

It was his first big break.

McCarthy's witch hunt showed him no mercy. During the 1950s, his name ended up on the blacklists, and the studios slammed the door in his face. But he didn't sit around waiting for a forgiveness that never came. He turned to theater and directing to keep his creative pulse going while the FBI kept watch over his friendships.

From the Umbrella to the Philadelphia Gym

In 1966, he agreed to wear a fake nose and a monocle. His portrayal of the Penguin in the series Batman was a display of over-the-top theatrics that saved his personal finances. People forgot his intellectual past and focused on the manic squawk he improvised to hide how cigar smoke irritated his throat.

That character brought him a fame he hadn't sought. But it also let him choose projects with a freedom few actors his age had at the time. So he alternated episodes of The Twilight Zone with experimental films that almost nobody saw.

And then 1976 arrived.

Sylvester Stallone called him in for Rocky because he needed a grumpy old man who smelled of sweat and accumulated failure. Meredith accepted the role of Mickey Goldmill for little money and plenty of opportunities to yell. He earned an Oscar nomination and created the mentor archetype that commercial films have copied endlessly ever since.

He never won the Oscar despite earning two consecutive nominations in the 1970s. But he didn't seem to care much as long as there was an interesting script on the table. In 1981, he appeared in Clash of the Titans, playing the elderly Ammon alongside a mechanical owl.

The Voice Refuge

His ability to modulate tone made him a top-tier narrator for documentaries and commercials. He earned astronomical fees for lending his voice to car and airline brands during the 1980s. That money let him live comfortably at his home in Malibu, surrounded by books and memories from his four marriages.

His memory began to fail in the mid-1990s. Even so, he found the strength to shoot Grumpier Old Men in 1993, followed by its sequel two years later. On set, everyone knew the end was near, because he no longer remembered his lines with the precision of old.

He died on 1997 from complications of Alzheimer's and melanoma. He was 89 years old. His final wish was for his ashes to be scattered without any grand ceremony or speeches from famous friends.