HOROWITZ AND MRS. WASHINGTON

Guess who's coming to nurse that bigoted old Jewish sour pickle, the widower Horowitz, a 70-year-old heart patient? That's right: black Mrs. Washington, who's possessed of a towering nobility granted only to the saints and Sidney Poitier. She's strong enough to work hard with her widowed daughter and her school-age grandchildren, seeing that they have a wholesome family life and stay away from the neighborhood "savages." And she's tolerant enough to put up with Horowitz, who—having been mugged and slashed by those same "savages"—heaps racial epithets on the sturdy Mrs. W. She says: "You can insult me, berate me, get angry, shout, yell, rant and rave. But I am here for the duration." She bullies and coaxes the insulting Horowitz through rehab exercises and the first steps toward doing for himself. And, of course, Horowitz warms up with a few lapses, till he's medium-lovable and then high-adorable; meanwhile, Mrs. W's martyred goodness jumps several notches—especially when her grandson is stabbed by "savages" because he refuses to give up a gold coin Horowitz has given him. The two squabble at cards, exchange memories, and pull off a plan to keep Horowitz out of the clutches of his children (who want to move him out of his beloved Manhattan). Denker has stewed up two stereotypes into familiar applesauce—based on the best of intentions, perhaps, but mush just the same.