State of Emergency

Robert Beltran Reviewed

by Elena Walker

"State of Emergency"

(1994) (TV movie) Genre: Drama / Thriller

Directed by

Lesli Linka Glatter

Writing credits (WGA)

Susan Black (II) (written by) &

Lance Gentile (written by)

Runtime: 97 minutes

Country: USA

Language: English (also available in Spanish with sub-titles)

Color: Color

Sound Mix: Ultra Stereo

Certification: USA: R (restricted)

Cat. #90976

ISBN#: 0-7831-0596-X

Video release date: June 15th, 1994

Cast overview, first billed only:

Joe Mantegna .... Dr. John Novelli

Lynn Whitfield .... Dehlia Johnson

Melinda Dillon .... Betty Anderson

Paul Dooley .... Jim Anderson

Jay O. Sanders .... Dr. Jeffrey Forrest

Richard Beymer .... Dr. Ronald Frames

Robert Beltran .... Raoul Hernandez

Christopher Birt .... Dr. Victor Davidson

WARNING!

This is not a movie to watch when you're sitting down to dinner. In fact, if you've a queasy stomach, even snacks may be out of the question! Or if the smell of hospital disinfectant makes you edgy, here's your chance to leave the room.

This movie is not for the faint hearted! There's plenty of blood, gore, guts and action but none of it is gratuitous. In fact, given the subject matter, the film's creators have done a remarkable job of documenting and highlighting their concerns without involving the audience in anything either over-sentimental or blatant.

The synopsis is simple. "Under-financed, under-staffed, under-pressure...For Dr. John Novelli, the next 24 hours will be a matter of life and death." Or as other publicity blurbs state: "An emergency room doctor tries to keep his staff together on the front line, battling low budgets and heavy bureaucracy while stemming the flow of the injured and dying."

Based primarily in an LA hospital emergency unit, the impending death of a car accident victim forces the hospital's top emergency room doctor and his staff to choose between the best interests of his patient or his employers and subsequently, himself.

This film is not light entertainment: It drags you behind the scenes and into the lives of both the decision-makers and the subjects of their compassion. The hospital hierarchy plays Russian roulette with personnel and patients as they themselves struggle to survive amidst an over-loaded and failing system. None are the victors: All are victims.

At the center of the maelstrom, protagonist Dr. John Novelli (played by an inspiring Joe Mantegna) locks horns with antagonist and hospital administrator, Raoul Hernandez (Robert Beltran).

Although Robert's appearances are few, in this film we get a chance to see him in all his strength as a character actor. It would be easy to hate Raoul Hernandez or cast him in the role of villain but Robert doesn't allow us that luxury. He demands we consider the human struggling inside the bureaucrat.

In this role, it's the little things that matter. Hernandez is the place where the buck stops. His wedding ring suggests a well-developed life beyond the hospital; his easy charm, sophisticated manner and ready diplomacy hint at a man accustomed to solving major crisis. Hernandez is used to doing a balancing act; juggling time, personalities and the harsh realities of hospital administration such as budgets, insurance, lawsuits and public relations. But in this case, he's between a rock and a hard place and it's difficult not to feel his personal discomfit with the situation, even as he buries the knife in Novelli's back.

Novelli, on the other hand, is easy to feel sorry for. He's the sacrificial lamb. The under-dog. The whistle-blower. His life is the hospital: That's all there is for him. He's a diamond in the rough, a "Hawkeye Pierce" type, renegade discontent. Someone with a conscience. A heart. Alone in the world.

But Hernandez is the epitome of the establishment: The Powers That Be. Those who can't afford to wear their hearts on their sleeves because the system would bleed them dry and then proceed to drag every innocent involved under with them. These are the men and women who grey early and audiences love to hate: The unsympathetic, relentlessly heartless boss.

However, Robert Beltran's Hernandez will have none of that! He's not out to gain sympathizers but to do what needs be done. This is a man aware of the issues and both willing and able to make the tough choices. He's weighed the pros and cons before deciding the needs of the overall good outweigh the needs of the few. He'll take whatever measures are necessary to ensure the end result, even if it means sacrifice and compromise in the meantime. For Raoul Hernandez, the overall picture is the final goal and his certainty in the rightness of this belief lends the character strength. We admire him for his determination while condemning his narrow-minded acceptance of what he believes to be inevitable.

Hernandez may be the image of self-control but it's Robert's careful use of mannerisms that indicate the pressure and stress behind the facade. Whether punching an elevator button or fidgeting with a gold pen, Robert fills in the gaps in his character (caused by skimpy dialogue) with gesture. That gold pen becomes a barometer in Robert's hands. It punctuates his phrases, gauges his responses and betrays the character's thoughts and emotions.

It rests between his fingers, as he looks warily at the angry Patient Advocate detailing the widow's complaints. No movement of either muscle or eyelid depicts his emotions but as the conversation continues he screws the barrel and taps his fingers, reflecting the turmoil of Raoul's thoughts. The pen pauses for her first point (as he listens intently), rubs his nose for her second (as he considers what's being said) and stabs the air as he angrily responds. The Advocate makes another attack and the pen again rests between his fingers only to return to his mouth and nose as he considers her words.

That's when he gets personal. In any earlier scene, speaking with Novelli at the elevator, Robert uses his open hand to dismiss a doctor and then indicates helplessness with an open hand extended towards Novelli. But when he wants to drive his point home, he points directly at Novelli with his finger. He uses the pen in the same way to drive home the point to the Patient Advocate that "You know we can't handle that kind of publicity on the heel of the clinic's closing". He spreads his hands wide in a gesture of helplessness, a plea for understanding. It's out of his hands. He's as big a victim as everyone else. And immediately, we feel sorry for him. The lines could have been played with frustration or even fury but Robert plays it for sympathy and wins.

The next time we see Hernandez, he's with the hospital's lawyers. Raoul is like a cornered animal. A flicking tail betrays the cool exterior of a lion: He's thinking. The spinning gold pen betrays Raoul: He's biding his time, planning his words and next moves. As his thoughts develop, the pen drops to both hands and he screws the barrel mercilessly. It's used as a tool: To avoid the gaze of others and to give his appearance authority. Even in the committee room, as the camera pans over the nameplate of "Raoul Hernandez, Chief Executive Officer", a blurred gold pen taps and pirouette's in Robert's hands.

One can only admire Robert's attention to detail! Hernandez' watch becomes more than a prop: It gives him another excuse to avoid looking people in the eye and to demonstrate Raoul's increasing impatience and frustration. He punches the elevator button rather than Novelli. Hernandez guards his words and public image as carefully as a cat stalking his prey.

Robert's well-balanced timing engages us more completely in the character's carefully crafted persona. There are times in Robert's performances when his careful pronunciation can be distracting but not so in this movie. Hernandez punctuates his words with precise pronunciation and weighted pauses. "She wants you...Gone." "Not if I have your resignation...on my desk by the morning." Robert subtly drops his eyes to the desk he's sitting on during the pause. Without saying anything further, Novelli gets the point. This is more than a reprimand or a civilized request: It's an order.

Hernandez is the epitome of self-control during the first staff meeting we see. Robert gives Hernandez an affectation. As part of his grand announcement and to lend weight to his words, Hernandez smacks his lips at the beginning of two sentences during his introductory lines. It sets the scene, draws the attention of both staff and viewer, creating a broader stage for the up-coming drama. Throughout the rest of the meeting, Raoul is clearly in control. He eases himself into his chair and always sits up straight. Leaning forward or back, his fingers lightly resting on each other or hands folded together, Raoul is always aware of where his eyes are. He sets the example for the rest of his staff. Eyes forward and all concentration on the guest speaker. As his senior staff voices their disapproval, Hernandez drops his eyes to the table in mild reprisal and warning: They're ignoring the positives, not giving the plan a chance.

Hernandez is a smooth operator. As the widow, Mrs. Anderson, enters the negotiating room, Raoul takes her hand and gently pats it. He offers coffee, opening his arms wide in a reconciliatory gesture. He at once establishes himself as being a "good guy" amongst the "bad guys": Another victim of the huge bureaucracy that has caused this terrible tragedy. All he wants is to help her and his full sympathies are with her. As soon as he sits down, the cornered animal returns. The lawyers take over and the gold pen spins. But as soon as the widow rejects the hospital's terms, it's Raoul that plays the "good cop". The sympathizer. The compassionate face of the Powers-That-Be. Novelli must be the villain: It's necessary for the greater good. Hernandez is too charming, too handsome, too polite, too compassionate to be a "bad guy". He's the public image of the hospital. The ugly, ill-mannered cockroach Novelli must be exterminated.

Subtlety can sometimes been mistaken for carelessness. But in Raoul Hernandez, we see Robert Beltran lifting a character beyond the script and breathing into him added dimensions. The effect is so subtle, so refined, we accept the complexities of the character without questioning the art that has convinced us to do so. After his final meeting with the widow, Hernandez is seen escorting Mrs. Anderson and her lawyer out. He offers his hand but she barely touches it. As Hernandez lifts his hand away from hers, Robert tips it slightly, indicating resignation or "please yourself". Demonstrating to us that there's more going on in Hernandez mind that being supportive.

"State of Emergency" bears repeated viewings, especially as the subject matter is as relevant today as it was when released in 1994. And it also remains as an excellent example of the sophistication of Robert Beltran's craft.