Actor Dabney Coleman, Villainous Boss in ‘9 to 5,’ Dies at 92

Dabney Coleman appears on the set of "Courting Alex" at Warner Bros. studios in Burbank, Calif., on Jan. 25, 2006. (AP)
Dabney Coleman appears on the set of "Courting Alex" at Warner Bros. studios in Burbank, Calif., on Jan. 25, 2006. (AP)
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Actor Dabney Coleman, Villainous Boss in ‘9 to 5,’ Dies at 92

Dabney Coleman appears on the set of "Courting Alex" at Warner Bros. studios in Burbank, Calif., on Jan. 25, 2006. (AP)
Dabney Coleman appears on the set of "Courting Alex" at Warner Bros. studios in Burbank, Calif., on Jan. 25, 2006. (AP)

Dabney Coleman, a character actor who brought a glorious touch of smarm to the screen in playing comedic villains, mean-spirited bosses and outright jerks in films such as "9 to 5" and "Tootsie," has died at age 92.

Coleman "took his last earthly breath peacefully and exquisitely" in his Santa Monica, California home on Thursday, his daughter Quincy Coleman said in a statement on Friday on behalf of the family.

While best remembered for his arrogant, unctuous and uncaring characters, Coleman said it was all an act.

"It's me kidding around," Coleman once told the New York Times.

"That's just a guy that I'm playing, just to fool around, you know," he said.

Not all of Coleman's characters were cads. He won an Emmy playing a lawyer in the 1987 television movie "Sworn to Silence" and played Jane Fonda's decent dentist boyfriend in the 1981 film "On Golden Pond" and a federal security official in 1983's "War Games."

His final screen credit was playing John Dutton Sr. in the TV series "Yellowstone" in 2019.

Coleman was born on Jan. 3, 1932, in Austin, Texas. He studied law and served in the US Army before trying acting.

His early work in the 1960s and 1970s included one-off roles in a variety of television shows, as well as a semi-regular part as Marlo Thomas' neighbor in "That Girl."

His first movie job was 1965's "The Slender Thread," directed by his acting teacher and friend, Sydney Pollack, who would later hire him for "Tootsie."

Coleman's breakout role - and the one he said was his favorite - came in 1976 on producer Norman Lear's TV series "Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman." He played Merle Jeeter, the creepy mayor who has an affair with the title character, in that soap-opera spoof and in spinoffs "Fernwood Tonight" and "Forever Fernwood."

His first big movie role - and the one that established his acting persona - was in 1980 as Franklin Hart, the sexist, egotistical business executive who harasses underlings played by Fonda, Dolly Parton and Lily Tomlin until they take him hostage and boost corporate productivity in "9 to 5."

Coleman was no more likeable two years later in "Tootsie" as a soap opera director who runs afoul of Dustin Hoffman's dressed-in-drag title character.

In 1983, he took the comic villain role even further in his first starring television role. In the short-lived sitcom "Buffalo Bill," he played a radio talk show host whose idea of a tender marriage proposal was: "You're better than 90 percent of those bimbos out there."

"It is fun to play those characters because they are so well-defined," Coleman told People magazine in 1983.

In the 1980s and 1990s, he also starred in the sitcoms "The Slap Maxwell Story" as a sportswriter, "Drexell's Class" as a corporate raider turned teacher and "Madman of the People" as a magazine columnist working for his daughter. None of the shows lasted more than two seasons.

More recent roles included HBO's "Boardwalk Empire" in 2010-11 as the man who once controlled Atlantic City, New Jersey. His part had to be rewritten when Coleman was diagnosed with throat cancer, which left him unable to speak at times.

A devoted tennis player, Coleman was twice married and divorced. He had four children with his second wife, actress Jean Hale.

"My father crafted his time here on earth with a curious mind, a generous heart, and a soul on fire with passion, desire and humor that tickled the funny bone of humanity," the statement from his daughter said.



Movie Review: Bob Dylan Biopic ‘A Complete Unknown’ Is Electric in More Ways than One

This image released by Searchlight Pictures shows Timothée Chalamet in a scene from "A Complete Unknown." (Macall Polay/Searchlight Pictures via AP)
This image released by Searchlight Pictures shows Timothée Chalamet in a scene from "A Complete Unknown." (Macall Polay/Searchlight Pictures via AP)
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Movie Review: Bob Dylan Biopic ‘A Complete Unknown’ Is Electric in More Ways than One

This image released by Searchlight Pictures shows Timothée Chalamet in a scene from "A Complete Unknown." (Macall Polay/Searchlight Pictures via AP)
This image released by Searchlight Pictures shows Timothée Chalamet in a scene from "A Complete Unknown." (Macall Polay/Searchlight Pictures via AP)

“A Complete Unknown” certainly lives up to its title. You are hardly closer to understanding the soul of Bob Dylan after watching more than two hours of this moody look at America's most enigmatic troubadour. But that's not the point of James Mangold's biopic: It's not who Dylan is but what he does to us.

Mangold — who directed and co-wrote the screenplay with Jay Cocks — doesn't do a traditional cradle-to-the-near-grave treatment. He concentrates on the few crucial years between when Dylan arrived in New York in 1961 and when he blew the doors off the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 by adding a Fender Stratocaster.

That means we never learn anything about Dylan before he arrives in Manhattan's Greenwich Village with a guitar, a wool-lined bomber jacket, a fisherman's cap and ambition. And Dylan being Dylan, we just get scraps after that.

The world spins around him, this uber-cypher of American song. Women fall in love with him, musicians seek his orbit, fans demand his autograph, record executives fight over his signature. The Cuban Missile Crisis melds into the Kennedy assassination and the March on Washington. What does Dylan make of all this? The answer is blowing in the wind.

Any sane actor would run away from this assignment. Not Timothée Chalamet, and “A Complete Unknown” is his most ambitious work to date, asking him not only to play insecure-within-a-sneer but also to play and sing 40 songs in Dylan's unmistakable growl, complete with blustery harmonica.

The last big non-documentary attempt to understand Dylan was Todd Haynes' “I’m Not There,” which split the assignment among seven actors. Chalamet does it all, moving from callow, fresh-faced songsmith to arrogant, selfish New Yorker to jaded, staggering pop star to Angry Young Man. There are moments when Chalamet tilts his head down and looks at the world slyly, like Princess Diana. There are others when the resemblance is uncanny, but also moments when it is a tad forced. You cannot deny he's got the essence of Dylan down, though.

The movie's title is pulled from Dylan’s lyrics for “Like a Rolling Stone” and it's adapted from Elijah Wald’s book “Dylan Goes Electric! Newport, Seeger, Dylan, and the Night That Split the Sixties.” Dylan isn't a producer but did consult on the script.

It's not the most glowing profile, though the sheer brilliance of the songs — so many the movie might be deemed a musical — show Dylan's undeniable genius. Chalamet's Dylan is unfaithful, jealous and puckish. The movie suggests that adding electric guitar at Newport in '65 was less a brave stand for music’s evolution than a middle finger to anyone who dared put him in a box.

In some ways, “A Complete Unknown” uses some of the DNA from “I’m Not There.” The best clues to what's going on behind Dylan's shades are the refracted light from others, like Joan Baez, Johnny Cash, Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger and a girlfriend called Sylvie Russo, based on Dylan’s ex Suze Rotolo, who is pictured on 1963’s album cover for “The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan.”

Edward Norton is a hangdog Seeger hoping to harness Dylan for the goodness of folk, astonished by his talent. Monica Barbaro is a revelation as Baez, Dylan's on-again-off-again paramour. Boyd Holbrook is a sharklike, disrupting Cash, with the movie's best line: “Make some noise, B.D. Track some mud on the carpet.” And Elle Fanning is captivating as Russo, the sweetheart sucked into this crazy rock drama.

It's Baez and Russo who dig the deepest into trying to find out who Dylan is. They don't buy his stories about learning from the carnival and call him on his facade-building. “I don't know you,” Russo says, calling him a “mysterious minstrel” and urging him to “Stop hiding.” Too late, sister.

Mangold — who directed the Cash biopic “Walk the Line” — is always good with music and clearly loves being in this world. There's one scene that initially puzzles — Dylan stops on the street to buy a toy whistle — and you wonder why the director has wasted our time. Then we see Dylan pull it out at the top of the recording of “Highway 61 Revisited” and suddenly it answers all those years of wondering what that crazy sound was.

There are points to quibble — Dylan never faced a shout of “Judas!” from an enraged folkie at Newport; that came a year later in Manchester — but “A Complete Unknown” is utterly fascinating, capturing a moment in time when songs had weight, when they could move the culture — even if the singer who made them was as puzzling as a rolling stone.