Julie Newmar: From Robotrix to Catwoman and Beyond...
by David Krell
david@davidkrell.com
In his 1989 book Sweethearts of ’60s TV, Ronald L. Smith writes, If ever the term goddess applied to an actress it’s to five-foot-ten, 145-pound, 38-23-38, 135-IQ Julie Newmar. She even seems to have the lifespan of a goddess, her beauty unchanged in three decades.
Newmar’s portrayal of Catwoman on the Batman television series embodies this definition. Her sex appeal as the Princess of Plunder stemmed not only from her looks, but also from her approach to the character. Most villains on Batman had an over-the-top quality. Newmar, however, played Catwoman with a self-assured, poised, and empowered feel -- a common thread throughout her career.
Undoubtedly, Newmar’s signature role left an indelible mark on popular culture, mesmerizing audiences to a degree unlike any other Batman character. Although other villainesses graced Gotham City with their sex appeal, Newmar’s Catwoman still signifies as the foremost one among fans, a pretty good accomplishment considering the cat competition -- Eartha Kitt and Lee Meriwether -- and other alluring adversaries, e.g. Joan Collins as Vixen, Jill St. John as Molly, one of the Riddler’s assistants and the only character to get killed on Batman.
Making her Catwoman debut on March 16, 1966, Newmar had six turns on the camp series. In her debut two-part story, The Purr-Fect Crime and Better Luck Next Time (ABC, March 16, 1966 and March 17, 1966), she establishes Catwoman’s strength immediately upon her first line of dialogue. When henchmen Leo (Jock Mahoney) and Felix (Ralph Manza) wonder aloud why Catwoman will not sell a recently ill-gotten golden cat for riches, she snaps her whip, making her presence known, not to mention feared. Yours is not to reason why. Yours is to do as I tell you to. Or you’ll keep tasting my cat-o-nine-tails.
This scene’s lighting proves extremely effective as the audience sees Catwoman in silhouette after hearing the whip snap. Slowly, she comes into the light, revealing her physique while maintaining her mystique.
At the end of Better Luck Next Time, Catwoman hangs by her claws on a gorge’s edge, a result of trying to evade Batman and Robin by jumping across the chasm with a bag of stolen treasure. Catwoman’s refusal to let go of her plunder causes her to slip her grip and fall into a bottomless pit. Dead? Not exactly. A cat is supposed to have nine lives. It’s hard to say, Batman comments.
Besides her six two-part episodes in a featured role, Newmar also enjoyed an unbilled cameo as the feline criminal in Ma Barker, a Batman episode featuring Shelley Winters as a takeoff on legendary criminal Ma Parker.
In his 1995 book DC Comics: Sixty Years of the World’s Favorite Comic Book Heroes, Les Daniels describes Catwoman. The bad guys included Academy Award winners Anne Baxter, George Sanders, Shelley Winters and Cliff Robertson, but as [Batman creator Bob] Kane says, ‘The original crew of villains was the most effective.’ Notable among them was Julie Newmar, whom Kane calls ‘terrific’ as the Catwoman. Adam West considered her ‘the sexiest woman on television’ and she worked at it, using her dancer’s training to strike provocative poses and altering her costume to emphasize her voluptuous figure.
In his overview, Daniels also compares Catwoman to heroine Batgirl. When Yvonne Craig was brought in as Batgirl in the thir season, it was a sign of desperation. Ratings were down and there was hope that a new character might give the show a shot in the arm. She couldn’t have come at a worse time, however, since Batman had been cut back to one segment of 30 minutes each week and there was hardly room for her. And anyway, she couldn’t help looking like a less challenging version of Catwoman.
Frequently, actresses who get classified as sex symbols do not get acknowledged for their talent because physical appeal overshadows. They experience frustration because audiences, critics, and producers ignore their abilities. Not Newmar.
She revels that adult men now recall her Catwoman as the first female to awaken their hormones.
Emotionally, I’m on my knees! How glorious to be acknowledged! Nature has built-in dominant traits to cats which was appealing to the audience. I never wanted to kill Batman, just play with him and swat at him, much like a cat would to a bird. Even young boys knew instinctively watching Batman that Catwoman had a physical appeal. They always hoped that Batman wouldn’t be seduced by Catwoman into crime.
Smith furthers the point. Amateur psychologists might note that Batman himself was in awe of her. There was no question that Catwoman was his complete equal, and that every smirk and purr unnerved him. Perhaps young fans, with good reason both to want and fear a larger-than-life symbol of female perfection, identified with Batman’s delightful plight.
Despite virtual ignorance of her acting accolades, like a Tony Award for Best Supporting Actress in The Marriage-Go-Round where she played opposite Charles Boyer, a ninety-second yet memorable role as Stupefyin’ Jones in the Broadway play Li’l Abner, and a turn in the musical movie Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Julie Newmar has comfort with her pop culture status as a sex symbol.
In Sweethearts of ’60s TV, she explains her view. Wow! I get that positive sexual identification. Not a whorey or a negative one. It pleases me deeply that it’s positive. And pure in a sense. You are as long as you’re up on the screen and not handled.
She furthered the explanation with a hint of caution in an interview with me. The image is not you. You value the image and protect it, but it’s not you.
Certainly a sign of its time, Batman has earned a permanent place in the retro pop culture kingdom. Adults watched for the parody, children watched for the hero vs. villain theme.
In James Van Hise’s 1989 book Batmania, Newmar nicely specifies the appeal of the show through her actress eyes. It just clicked. All the elements were there. The producer made all the right choices, and that’s highly important because you can miscast something and yet have a good script, or most often a lousy script. That’s usually the drawback in a film. The scripts is the most important feature. But here, I think, all the elements were contributing to its great success. For instance, the art direction was marvelous. Where they found all the props and stuff for the characters. Plus they would tilt the camera. The series has played over and over, hundreds of times, somewhere in the world.
When discussing Julie Newmar’s career, though, one must not discount the voluminous work of this voluptuous actress besides the trademark Catwoman role.
Although remembered most for her feline depiction, Newmar has an extensive television resume. Through the magic of reruns and DVD, audiences might find her on a number of television shows: The Twilight Zone, My Living Doll, Columbo, The Monkees, The Defenders, The Bionic Woman, Fantasy Island, Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, Get Smart, Star Trek, Hart to Hart, Route 66, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Love, American Style.
Such a lengthy list of credits triggers a look at some roles. Using Catwoman as the classic example, one sees common threads of control, confidence, and command in Newmar characters.
Always in control, dominant without being dominating, Newmar displays a certain poise in her roles. My physique and intelligence set me apart, she opines.
Indeed Newmar’s dancer body and philosopher mind differentiate her from other sex symbol actresses who rose to fame in the 1960’s, the era where women’s lib became a fixture on the sociopolitical landscape.
Where other actresses used their physical appearance for roles, notoriety, and fame, Newmar’s actions in the same regard have a social significance, symbolizing women coming to power in the 1960’s. Moreover, Newmar’s roles belied a superiority, in some instances more playful than threatening.
In a guest appearance on The Twilight Zone, Newmar plays the devil in disguise. Written by Rod Serling and directed by David Lowell, The Twilight Zone episode Of Late I Think of Cliffordville (CBS, April 11, 1963) presents a classic sell-your-soul-to-the-devil theme with a twist.
Based on the short story Blind Alley by Malcolm Jameson, Cliffordville centers on a successful businessman, William Feathersmith (Albert Salmi) who wants to start his career over.
Newmar plays Miss Devlin, proprietor of Devlin’s Travel Service, located on the 13th floor in Feathersmith’s building. She recognizes Feathersmith’s conflict regarding striving, competing, and succeeding. The pleasure’s not in the possession, it’s in the desperate struggle to possess.
Feathersmith and Devlin strike a deal, subject to conditions. Feathersmith has four conditions for his trip back to his hometown of Cliffordville, Indiana circa 1910, approximately fifty years ago.
1. He must look the same as he did in 1910.
2. He must possess an intact memory of all events, people, and places.
3. Cliffordville must be exactly as it was in 1910.
4. The time-travel trip must take place immediately.
Although Feathersmith offers his soul in exchange, Devlin explains a harsh reality. We got a hold of your soul some time ago, I believe. Devlin then proceeds to run down a list of Feathersmith’s numerous indiscretions, unfair actions, and unjust rewards.
In sum, Feathersmith’s end consists of money. Devlin figures Feathersmith’s net worth at $36,891,412.14. She charges him an even $36,890,000 for the trip, leaving him with $1,400 and change, not an untidy sum at the turn of the twentieth century.
By story’s end, Feathersmith realizes that, indeed, you can’t go home again. Feathersmith’s dreams of recreating success and wealth on an even larger scale than his ‘previous life’ fall victim to his avarice, greed, and lust. He begs Miss Devlin for a return trip to the present. However, Feathersmith’s behavior in the ‘new’ past dictates a change in the time continuum, making several alterations to the present, not the least of which is his occupation. Feathersmith is now a janitor.
An enabled female character like Miss Devlin or Catwoman registers with audiences when mention of Julie Newmar occurs. One must also note, however, the statuesque actress’ vocal and dance talents. These gifts surfaced in an installment of The Jonathan Winters Show entitled Jonathan and the Movies (NBC, March 29, 1965).
This satirical mockumentary on the motion picture industry gave Newmar the opportunity to showcase captivating voice and dance talents in two segments reinforcing her allure.
The Jonathan Winters Show segments supplied a familiar platform for Newmar, although, even the most die-hard Newmar fans don’t know or forgot her musical training.
Musical theatre was my first love and my training ground. Early in my career, I did a guest appearance on The Phil Silvers Show. People often forget he did Top Banana on Broadway because of his television career, somewhat like my experience. He was the best at that type of performing which really trains you for television comedy. Both are physically demanding.
The show’s narrator sets up Newmar’s first song, I’m A Woman. It’s perfectly suited for the slender beauty. Indeed, it’s seemingly written just for her. Yet love is more than sex and sex is more than a symbol. After all, what is a Hollywood sex symbol? It’s a woman. And a woman is, shall we say, many things?
I’m A Woman details the attributes, abilities, and attraction of the female species, leaving no doubt that a woman’s magic goes beyond her beauty.
An interesting complement appears in the song I’m Calm. Here, Newmar’s song encompasses thoughts of an unnamed secretary faced with a mogul boss barking out innumerable order after order followed by an incomplete pass. One sees echoes of Newmar’s Rhoda the Robot character from My Living Doll (CBS, 1964-65) as she blindly follows orders in I’m Calm.
Sharp-eyed viewers will notice some feline foreshadowing in Newmar’s performances on The Jonathan Winters Show. In I’m A Woman, Newmar starts with her slinky body lying seductively on a tiger-skin rug. I’m Calm takes place in the mogul’s office with a leopard-skin chair as part of the decor.
For those keeping score, another non-Catwoman role hints at Newmar’s most famous character. Newmar guest starred on Route 66 in an episode entitled Give the Old Cat a Tender Mouse (CBS, December 21, 1962).
Julie Newmar’s most challenging role may have been the aforementioned Rhoda the Robot a.k.a. AF 709, a government project, on My Living Doll. How do you be a piece of machinery? It took about thirteen weeks to feel like a robot!
Tim Brooks and Earle Marsh synopsize My Living Doll in The Complete Directory to Prime Time Network and Cable TV Shows: 1946 - Present. This comedy introduced the ultimate in male fantasy, a sexy, curvaceous, female robot programmed to do anything she was told -- absolutely anything. AF 709 was the secret project number that designated this ultimate achievement in space-age technology, a robot that could think on its own and function like a man -- well, like a woma. Statuesque Julie Newmar played the robot. She wandered into the office of the base psychiatrist [played by Bob Cummings] one day and had a pleasant chat with him. Only later did he find out that she was a robot designed by Dr. Carl Miller. When Dr. Miller was called away on assignment to Pakistan he left the robot in Bob’s care. Bob named her Rhoda and passed her off as Dr. Miller’s niece. She moved into his home, where Bob took on the task of training her to be the ‘perfect’ woman -- one that only talked when spoken to, and did what was asked of her. To complicate things, Bob’s neighbor Peter [played by Jack Mullaney] fell in love with Rhoda and had to fended off lest he discover her secret.
In the article The Electronic Tomato in the December 4, 1964 issue of Time, Newmar states the essence of Rhoda the Robot. Rhoda is the ultimate consciousness, the ultimate reality, the ultimate freedom. She is the quintessence of humanness. As I play her, the robot is coming closer to the ideal in humanity, and the humans around it are becoming more and more like robots.
As a male fantasy television vehicle, My Living Doll accords with other shows of the genre and era, e.g., Bewitched, I Dream of Jeannie. Unfortunately for Newmar fans and television historians alike, copies of My Living Doll have proven extremely rare. Newmar explains the situation in Batmania. They destroyed the prints at CBS. Evidently, they didn’t have enough storage room, so they don’t exist any more. I wish I had some of them. They were fun.
Children’s programming has also enjoyed Julie Newmar’s talent. Not really a performance, Newmar lent her celebrity to the children’s special NBC Children’s Theatre: Super Plastic Elastic Goggles (NBC, January 30, 1971).
Dressed and coiffed in a very girl-next-door manner, Newmar appears with other celebrities -- Tom Poston, James Earl Jones, Judy Carne -- to tell children about the wonders of colors, prisms, rainbows, and the like. These narrative segments divide up the story of Goggles, a rock music quartet searching to learn about these subjects.
The special reflects literary origins. Ralph Waldo Emerson’s essay On Nature and the Natural Man inspired the Goggles theme. Alice Finley gave the idea for the color subject. In addition, Goggles corresponds to a view espoused by television critic David Bianculli in his 1994 book Teleliteracy.
Television can expose children to literature, it can be ‘read’ as literature, and it can inspire them in countless and often surprising ways. I can remember going to the school or local library as a boy to check out the latest picture book shown, and read aloud, on Captain Kangaroo -- only to learn that other watchful, book-hungry viewers had beaten me to the punch and checked out all the available copies of Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel.
Julie Newmar attained a newly found icon status in the 1990’s. A signed photography for the owner of a Chinese restaurant inspired the film title To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar (1995). Newmar made a cameo at the end of the movie.
Newmar also appeared as herself in an episode of Melrose Place (1992-99).
Newmar’s place in sex symbol annals is firmly entrenched. In her reprisal of the Stupefyin’ Jones role in a 1998 revival of Li’l Abner, she earned praise from Associated Press drama critic Michael Kuchwara.
The evening’s one amazing casting coup is the presence of Julie Newmar, who played Stupefyin’ Jones in the original Broadway production, in the 1959 movie and now in this concert version. Four decades later, Newmar is still pretty stupefyin’.
Smith sums up Julie Newmar’s attraction in Sweethearts of ’60s TV.
The secret of Julie’s appeal is just that: a sense of fun that puts the perfection of mind and body just slightly askew. Perfection is boring; Julie is not. Within an hour of casual conversation she’ll giggle like a girl, laugh like a wicked catwoman, whisper passionately in making a point, begin a sentence with deep philosophical and intellectual intent, and end it with a poker-faced aside brimming with humor. Call her unpredictable -- or just a lot of fun.