Public Eye One Life to Live

By MARGARET CARLSON

Donna Reed performed in a few good films, including From Here to Eternity, in which she played a prostitute (and won an Oscar). In 1958, however, she became Everywife in her own TV series, the epitome of suburban domesticity. So firmly did she imprint that character that she was forever unable to convincingly play anyone except the cheerful wife and mother who left no spots on the glasses or her children's psyches. By the time Reed tried to inhabit the skin of Miss Ellie in Dallas, it was impossible to believe that she could have brought forth a lout like J.R. She had become a victim of typecasting.

On the ninth floor of the Los Angeles Criminal Courts Building, a sometime actor finds himself trapped in the public's impression of him, but this time the typecasting can only help his case. The prosecution has a lot going for it -- a realistic set, a good supporting cast complete with a couch potato who times his life by reruns of The Mary Tyler Moore Show, waiters with ponytails and exotic accents, a lost dog and two grieving families. Still, persuading a juror who doubts that O.J. Simpson could be a monster capable of buying a 15- in. stiletto (requesting that it be extra sharp) and then plunging it into the bodies of two people will be harder than convincing the public that Donna Reed could preside over the machinations at South Fork.

The job became more formidable as the hearing wore on. By Thursday afternoon, Simpson had lost the bored stare of a man stunned to find himself in such low company and reverted to type. Off suicide watch, he wore a conservative tie, smiled at the bailiffs, and took notes as if he were at a Hertz board meeting. When the defense showed a picture of Nicole's body, he closed his eyes, sighed deeply, covered his face and took a sip of water. To his supporters, it must have been a touching moment. Others may have found his | aggrieved widower as overplayed as the bumbling detective in Naked Gun.

The commentary is supplied by a chorus of network anchors, reporters and experts, and they are intent for reasons of the Constitution and drama on presuming his innocence. Anchors are thrown together with people they are not used to working with -- at times it looks as though Peter Jennings would like to stuff a sock in the mouth of Leslie Abramson, who defended one of the Menendez brothers. The anchors all seem to resent being pressed into service during soap-opera time.

To make the best of it and not to lose viewers disappointed that One Life to Live has been pre-empted, the hearing is infused with drama where there is none. The motion to throw out the first search of the Brentwood house and Ford Bronco was treated as if it put the prosecutor's entire case into jeopardy. Like sportscasters, the commentators keep score, but points are awarded evenly to each side, because no one wants a runaway game where the fans leave the stands before half time. About the time a viewer might be tempted to switch to a shopping channel, the anchors would go to a replay of the ceremonious delivery of the mysterious brown envelope, which contains either a knife or a red herring. It's as riveting as the MacGuffin in a Hitchcock thriller.

If the two Menendez brothers, who admitted to slaughtering their parents and were unknown before their trial, can be made human enough to deadlock two juries, the prosecution has its work cut out for it. Much of the public thinks it already knows Simpson from his role of good guy. In a celebrity-struck culture, it will be fascinating to see if the prosecution can show that the public didn't know this man at all. They only knew the one he played on TV.