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The films of James Coburn are impressively varied in genre, showcasing the actor’s range and charisma. There’s no doubt, however, that the man’s a legend thanks to his work in Westerns. He rose to fame as a direct result of appearing in them, beginning with no less than a Budd Boetticher movie (1959’s “Ride Lonesome”) and continuing with the classic “Seven Samurai” Western adaptation “The Magnificent Seven” just a year later in 1960. On television, he also turned up in numerous long-running Western series, from “Tales of Wells Fargo” to “Bonanza.” His natural grit mixed with a wry gleam in his eye made him perfect for everything from lawmen and soldiers to shady outlaws. It’s his knack for being morally ambiguous on screen that led him to play suave con men and secret agents, too. By the early 1970s, Coburn had built up a surprisingly varied body of work.
In 1972, in between Sergio Leone’s bitter satire “Duck, You Sucker!” and a broader Western comedy, “The Honkers,” Coburn starred in “The Carey Treatment,” a movie that was both of its time and a little ahead of it. Coburn plays Dr. Peter Carey, a pathologist who joins the staff of a Boston hospital only to stumble into foul play when it seems like the daughter of a friend was killed during a botched abortion procedure. The film was based on the novel “A Case of Need,” by Jeffery Hudson. It so happens Hudson was a pseudonym for Michael Crichton and the only time the author used that name. While the name confusion may account for part of why the film is still a lesser-known Crichton movie adaptation, “The Carey Treatment” ran into more issues than that during its production. Which is a shame, because it deserves more recognition than it gets.
The Carey Treatment became Blake Edwards’ second studio-compromised film
Watching “The Carey Treatment” today, it may seem somewhat dated and anonymous, but it doesn’t initially strike you that it’s a compromised film. As it happens, however, the movie in its theatrical (and, to date, only) cut is a version that was heavily edited by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer under the auspices of then-studio head James Aubrey. The irony is that this was the second time the studio and Aubrey messed around with director Blake Edwards, as the filmmaker (who almost directed 1968’s “Planet of the Apes”) had just undergone a similar ordeal with his 1971 Western for MGM, “Wild Rovers.” In that film’s case, MGM executives cut at least 24 minutes out of the movie, which is a pretty significant chunk. But despite having a bad time on that picture, Edwards was persuaded to give MGM and Aubrey another shot with “The Carey Treatment,” a decision that even baffled his wife, Julie Andrews (as she admitted in her memoir “Home Work”).
While it’s not clear just how much footage was cut from Edwards’ original vision for “The Carey Treatment,” Edwards did end up filing a breach of contract suit against MGM and Aubrey after shooting had been completed. According to Edwards, the studio and Aubrey cut the picture without his involvement. Meanwhile, James Coburn corroborated Edwards’ account of studio interference, explaining to Psychotronic Video magazine in 1991 that MGM “cut 10 days out of the schedule,” which likely means that even more material intended to be shot for the film never was. When that’s combined with whatever footage ended up being deleted in post-production, it’s impressive (and a testament to Edwards’ skills) that the theatrically-released version of “The Carey Treatment” was coherent at all.
The Carey Treatment is a fascinating footnote in its creators’ careers
Despite the film’s troubles during production, “The Carey Treatment” isn’t an awkward or borderline incomprehensible watch like the theatrical cuts of other infamously studio-maligned films such as “Once Upon a Time in America” or “Legend.” It certainly has Michael Crichton’s source novel to thank for that, as the plot remains largely intact and engaging. Crichton was inspired to create the book’s main character (renamed Peter Carey for the film) by his own experiences going to Harvard Medical School and interning at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston. What’s neat and still unique about Carey and “The Carey Treatment” is how the film (which was written by Harriet Frank Jr. using her own pseudonym of James P. Bonner) positions the character as a physician version of the emerging “rogue cop” archetype. Peter Carey isn’t a detective or a vigilante cop in the style of Popeye Doyle or Harry Callahan, yet he’s presented in a similar manner. James Coburn is perfect casting for such a character, too, as he exudes professionalism while still having an edge.
It’s unfortunate that both “A Case of Need” and “The Carey Treatment” were non-starters in their respective mediums. There were no further adventures of Dr. Carey on the screen, though if either Crichton’s novel or its film adaptation had been a hit, one could see how Carey might’ve become a Columbo or Jack Reacher type of figure. What’s commendable is how “The Carey Treatment” retains so much of its source material’s social commentary, addressing issues of racism and abortion with empathy and a point of view that was progressive for its time. If you’ve already exhausted most other Crichton movie adaptations and/or Blake Edwards films, give yourself a dose of “The Carey Treatment.”
