“Attention must be paid.” – from “Death of a Salesman,” by Arthur Miller (1915-2005)
Most people born in the second half of the 20th century have seen all or parts of “The Exorcist.” Released the day after Christmas in 1973, it is still spectacularly scary and one of the most profitable horror films ever made despite being banned in half the world.
Few people can say they sat through “The Exorcist” with Father Damien Karras.
Chris Kelly (TIMES-TRIBUNE FILE)
I did. It happened so long ago, I’d almost forgotten the experience.
In September 2000, I met Jason Miller at a local movie theater for a private screening of the film, which was about to be re-released as “The Version You’ve Never Seen.” This edition included scenes cut from the original blockbuster.
The Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright and Academy Award nominee showed up late and had obviously been drinking. It was 10 a.m.
Actor Jason Miller, left, looks on as Lackawanna County Sheriff John Szyamski, right, swears in actor Richard Harris as an honorary deputy on Oct. 17, 1986. Harris was in Scranton starring as King Arthur in the muscial “Camelot” at the Masonic Temple. (TIMES-TRIBUNE FILE)
“That Championship Season” director Jason Miller said filming for the movie adaptation in Scranton would start in July 1982. (TIMES-TRIBUNE FILE)
Times-Shamrock FileActor Bruce Dern, left, takes some instruction from director Jason Miller during the filming of ‘That Championship Season’ in Scranton in July 1982. (TIMES-TRIBUNE FILE)
Director Jason Miller, on left, oversees the positioning of equipment for the filming of That Championship Season on the steps of Scranton’s City Hall on July 13, 1982. (TIMES-TRIBUNE FILE)
Scranton native Jason Miller, who played an exhorist in the movie ‘The Exhorist’ visited the area during the investigation. (TIMES-TRIBUNE FILE)
Ed E. Rogers, left, then-managing editor of The Scranton Times and The Sunday Times, presents actor Bruce Dern, center, and writer-director Jason Miller with a dummy cover for the newspaper in July 1982 for use in the film version of “That Championship Season.” The film was partially shot in Scranton in 1982. TIMES-TRIBUNE FILE
TIMES-SHAMROCK ARCHIVES Sister Marianne Addy, I.H.M., who taught playwright Jason Miller in his days at St. Patrick’s Elementary School, introduces her former charge before Miller receives the Keystone Award for excellence in the film and theater arts at the inaugural Pennsylvania Film Festival on Sept. 20, 2000, in Scranton. (TIMES-TRIBUNE FILE)
Jason Miller (ASSOCIATED PRESS FILE)
TIMES-TRIBUNE ARCHIVES Jason Miller and Martin Sheen take a break from filming “That Championship Season” by playing some basketball. The film was shot in Scranton in July 1982. (TIMES-TRIBUNE FILE)
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Actor Jason Miller, left, looks on as Lackawanna County Sheriff John Szyamski, right, swears in actor Richard Harris as an honorary deputy on Oct. 17, 1986. Harris was in Scranton starring as King Arthur in the muscial “Camelot” at the Masonic Temple. (TIMES-TRIBUNE FILE)
We had a great time resurrecting Jason’s backstage memories of making the film and ruminating on its universal themes of good vs. evil, human frailty and enduring faith. We even had a few laughs. Jason was a funny guy, disarmingly self-deprecating and endlessly witty.
“We should get together sometime and talk words,” he said as we parted ways that day. Less than a year later, Jason was dead. He suffered a heart attack while thumbing through The Sunday Times at his favorite downtown saloon. He was just 62.
Today marks the 25th anniversary of his death. Attention must be paid.
Jason and I weren’t close friends so much as affectionate acquaintances. The few times we chatted at length are threadbare treasures to me now. This guy won the Pulitzer Prize, a Tony and the New York Drama Critics award for his play, “That Championship Season.” For an encore, he was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor for playing a character millions of people still recognize instantly.
And yet he made time for me, a young, inexperienced nobody bursting with words but clumsy and conflicted about putting them on the page for the world to judge. Jason had been there, and was generous enough to share that in some ways, he still was.
I think about that when I pass the bust of Jason on Courthouse Square. It was sculpted by Paul Sorvino, the late actor and longtime friend of Jason’s who also directed the partially taxpayer-funded “disasterpiece,” “The Trouble with Cali.”
Like “Cali,” the bust is a bust. It barely resembles Jason and my guess is he would have mocked the idea of the monument even if the finished product was better. Its base contains some of Jason’s cremated ashes, which is its main saving grace.
Jason wasn’t universally loved in his hometown. Critics focused on his alcoholism and periodic episodes of drunken behavior in public while dismissing his gifts as wasted on an unworthy vessel. They said his return to Scranton after huge early success in Hollywood was “proof” he was a small fish who couldn’t swim in a big pond.
Sadly, Jason sometimes seemed to judge himself just as unfairly. He was no saint, but there’s no sin in being overwhelmed by sudden stardom, especially when you’re not convinced you deserve it and can’t cope with the scrutiny and expectations that come with it.
All the awards in the world won’t fill the hole of self-doubt that’s near universally carried by creative people. We are best described as “egomaniacs with low self-esteem.” Many of us turn to substance abuse to keep going.
Jason was a beautiful, troubled soul in mortal need of secular exorcism. His demons fired his best work but also bedeviled him to his dying day.
Jason’s example taught me a lot about how — and how not — to handle success, but the rest I had to learn the hard way. I never imagined that one day I’d be drinking at 10 a.m., but almost 20 years after Jason passed, I was.
By the grace of God, I got sober and so far have stayed that way one day at a time. Jason put together periods of abstinence, but never, as he put it, “took the cure.” That fact doesn’t diminish his astonishing artistic and professional achievements and the honor they brought to the city he loved and the people who call it home. Jason Miller was a big fish in any pond.
For the record: “That Championship Season” is not the greatest American stage play, but I rank it in the top 10. In my Playbook, the best ever is Arthur Miller’s “Death of a Salesman,” a similar ode to the everyman crushed by the pressure to win and the creeping debt of regret attached to bad choices.
When salesman Willy Loman’s bad choices bring him down, his devoted wife, Linda, scolds Willy’s sons for failing to appreciate his accomplishments and sacrifices:
“He’s not the finest character that ever lived. But he’s a human being — and a terrible thing is happening to him. So attention must be paid. He’s not to be allowed to fall into his grave like an old dog. Attention, attention must be finally paid to such a person.”
There was a lot of Willy Loman in Jason Miller, and there’s a lot of Jason Miller in all of us.
Attention must be paid.
CHRIS KELLY, The Times-Tribune columnist, appreciates the accomplishments and sacrifices of the late, great Jason Miller. Contact the writer: ckelly@scrantontimes.com; @cjkink on X; Chris Kelly, The Times-Tribune on Facebook; and @chriskellyink on Bluesky.