In 2007, LA Weekly film critic Scott Foundas was asked to contribute an essay about Sydney Pollack's early television work to an Italian-language book about the director published in connection with a retrospective at the Alba Film Festival. That essay appears below, for the first time in English.

There is little outwardly remarkable about the 1961-66 American television series Ben Casey, unless you count novelty: It is one of the earliest models of that now-familiar TV staple known as the medical procedural, in which there is no health emergency too great for a team of brilliant doctors (here led by the eponymous, fresh-faced resident) to solve in an hour of screen time (save, of course, for the occasional two-part episode). But there are moments when Ben Casey transcends the ordinary and enters into a realm of deeply humanistic grace, and a great many of them can be found in the episodes — 15 of them — directed by Sydney Pollack. On this, you will have to trust me, for these shows are not easily seen, and indeed to consider Pollack’s TV career is to be reminded of how, even in this age of DVD saturation, so much from the early years of the medium remains trapped in limbo.

I am thinking, in particular, about the Ben Casey episode entitled “A Cardinal Act of Mercy” (1963), in which the great diva Kim Stanley delivers a searing performance as a morphine-addicted trial lawyer; another, “For the Ladybug…One Dozen Roses” (1962), where Cliff Robertson is a battle-scarred fighter pilot who has lost the ability to fly and, with it, the will to live; and the enormously moving “Monument to an Aged Hunter” (1962), in which Dr. Casey must choose which of two patients to save using an experimental antibiotic — a legendary writer and philanthropist (played by Wilfrid Hyde-White) or a younger man of no particular importance. These are hours of television in which the medical drama may be resolved by the time the credits roll, but the moral and ethical questions weigh heavy into the night.

Sydney Pollack died over the weekend at age 73. Three years ago, Pollack spoke to LA Weekly's Scott Foundas about his career, the costs of making films, and his production company Mirage, which recently put out Michael Clayton, nominated for seven Oscars.

In this interview from April 2005, Pollack talked to Foundas about his latest directing effort, The Interpreter, in which he also acted. Pollack's production partner in Mirage, Anthony Minghella, died in March.

Declaration of Independents
Sydney Pollack is all for lowering costs, raising IQs
By SCOTT FOUNDAS
Thursday, April 21, 2005

The company is called Mirage Enterprises, but there is nothing illusory about the career of its CEO. For 40 years now, Sydney Pollack has been making movies in Hollywood, and for the past two decades Mirage has been the base from which he’s overseen production of his own films, as well as those of a Who’s Who of distinguished peers (including Anthony Minghella, Pollack’s partner in the company since 2000). It’s also been a launching pad for auspicious young talent like Steven Zaillian (Searching for Bobby Fischer), Steve Kloves (The Fabulous Baker Boys) and Ira Sachs (whose Mirage-produced Forty Shades of Blue won the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance this year). All told, movies produced and/or directed by Pollack have earned some 80 Oscar nominations, with Pollack himself collecting Best Picture and Best Director statuettes for Out of Africa (1985). Not bad for a kid from Lafayette, Indiana, who started out wanting to become an actor and, in his spare time, has managed to work in that capacity for the likes of Robert Altman, Woody Allen and Stanley Kubrick.

Read the rest of the Foundas' article on Pollack here.

Also, LA Weekly contributor Chuck Wilson has a nice appreciation of Sydney Pollack on his own blog Flickers. Click here to read Wilson's piece.

A to Z and Everything in between as Film Forum celebrates the living legend
By Scott Foundas

Jean-Paul Belmondo and Anna Karina in Godard's Pierrot le Fou (see: C, K)
Film Forum/Janus Films

Given that a mere six months ago, J. Hoberman wrote in (the Village Voice), "From Breathless (1959) through Weekend (1968), [Jean-Luc] Godard reinvented cinema," what more is there to say about a retrospective devoted to precisely those 10 years from the work of the most analyzed, debated, effused-over, and influential filmmaker in the history of cinema? The short answer: Everything and nothing. Herewith, a hopefully handy index to Film Forum's five-week series, "Godard's '60s":