Wax Off

By now, I’m sure everybody has probably heard about the death of actor Pat Morita over Thanksgiving weekend. The standard obits all highlight his role as the noble sensei Mr. Miyagi in The Karate Kid, which I guess is appropriate since that film was such a huge pop-cultural landmark, especially for anyone who came of age during the ’80s. (Come on, admit it: all of us ’80s-kids experimented with Daniel-san‘s flying crane kick, didn’t we? Or at least fanatasized about using it against those jerks who mocked us in gym class. Or am I revealing way too much about my own pathetic history?)

Oddly enough, however, the roles that come to my mind when I think of Morita are all smaller and more obscure.

There’s Arnold, of course, the cantankerous owner of the diner that bears his name in the TV series Happy Days. (For the record, I always thought Arnold was a much funnier character than his replacement Al. No offense to Al Molinaro, the actor who played Al, but the character of Al was a generic and boring nice guy, and not terribly memorable. Arnold, on the other hand, sticks in my mind because he was volatile and unpredictable; you always had the idea that he never really liked his regular customers very much, a surprisingly unorthodox quirk for a character in ’70s television.)

I also remember Morita’s appearance in the feature film Honeymoon in Vegas with some fondness. There, he plays the cab-driver that not-so-helpfully informs Nicolas Cage about the effect Hawaiian air has on the female libido (it makes them want to “make freaky-freaky all night long”).

But the most persistent image I have of Morita is of him in an Army officer’s uniform, playing cards with Hawkeye and the gang on M*A*S*H. A little research indicates he only appeared on this series twice, playing the same role both times, but for some reason that bit part as Captain Sam Pak made a big impression on me. I was actually surprised to learn that he’d done only two M*A*S*H episodes; I’d had the idea that he was part of the stable of Asian actors that appeared on the show more-or-less constantly throughout its run.

Even if he wasn’t one of those semi-regulars on M*A*S*H, however, he was a familiar face on TV and movie screens throughout the ’70s and ’80s, and his more rare appearances in recent years were all welcome glimpses of someone that felt like an old friend. I’m going to miss that little glow I always felt when I recognized him or his distinctive voice in something new.

If you’d like to know more about Pat Morita, I suggest looking at his wikipedia entry, which is pretty detailed as such things go. Also (and not surprisingly), Evanier wrote a nice little tribute to him that includes some information on Morita’s biggest failure, a spin-off from Welcome Back, Kotter called Mr. T and Tina. (Would it surprise any of you to know that I vaguely remember watching that show?) The story of how Morita gave up his break-out role on Happy Days for a show that was essentially set up to fail from the very beginning, is heartbreaking. But to his credit, Pat did figure out a way to gain some measure of revenge… read Evanier’s post to find out how!

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4 comments on “Wax Off

  1. Jen B

    Oddly enough, one of the things that comes to mind when I think of Pat Morita, after Mr. Miyagi, is his ignominious death by falling into a lava flow in When Time Ran Out, one of the last big 70’s-era disaster movies.

  2. jason

    Oh, wow, you’ve actually managed to come up with a bad old 70s flick I am not familiar with! How… unexpected. I’ll have to try and find this one.

  3. Jen B

    It is probably The WORST volcano disaster flick I’ve ever seen. Worse than the LA Volcano movie with Tommy Lee Jones. Absolute dreck. I laughed the whole way through, even when Pat’s character died. It was great!
    I think it actually came out in 1980, though… so we might not be able to consider it an actual 70’s movie.

  4. jason

    I think from a cultural standpoint, decades, or rather the things we use to identify decades in our imaginations, actually spill over the strict choronological boundaries. In other words, what we think of as “the 60s” with the counter-culture, hippies, etc., probably runs from about ’66 or ’67 through the mid-70s. Similarly, the 70s — the 70s as we imagine them, anyhow — overlaps into the early 80s. So I’m cool with calling this flick a ’70s film.
    (Besides, the disaster picture is essentially a phenomenon of the 70s, so how can we not identify the last gasp of the genre — at least until the mid-90s revival of them — as a “70s disaster flick?”)