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Unlocking a Mind. That haunting effect begins with the eerie, keening scream of the infant Helen Keller's mother (Patricia Neal) when she discovers that her child is deaf and blind. It is warmed by the first sound of the soft, self-assured brogue of Annie Sullivan arriving from Boston to take charge of Helen. It is nourished by the overwhelming urgency of Annie's every action, her passionate need to dispense with the amenities—and with the Keller family's sentimental softness—in order to get down to the awful business of unlocking a darkened human mind and heart. It is onstage through every moment of physical combat as the adult teacher descends to the role of animal trainer in order to subdue a furious and frustrated child.
Anne Bancroft, as Annie Sullivan, comes onstage in her drab grey traveling suit and black, high-laced shoes. The stiff back, the solemn, measured steps are at once determined and shy. It is the hard-jawed fighter who meets her charge for the first time and all but devours the child with her eyes. It is the troubled stranger, caught suddenly between youthful belligerence and a growing awareness of responsibility, who catches a doll full in the mouth, spits a broken tooth into her cupped palm, agonizes over a job she may not be able to handle.
The Fight. During the unrestrained violence of the dinner-table combat between Anne and Patty, the play reaches its peak—in one of the most nerve-shattering scenes ever acted on Broadway. Ordering the Kellers out of the room, Annie flails into the heroic task of teaching wild young Helen the rudiments of table manners. Food and silverware explode across the room. Little Helen rushes to the door to pound out a plea for freedom. Annie promptly wrestles her back to her seat. Again and again and again, the child escapes and is captured. Again and again, Annie meets the near-demented girl on her own level, exchanging wild slaps and pokes. Still Helen breaks away, feinting her tormentor out of position, crawling under the table, perching on her chair with a kind of prim furor, and refusing to eat. With only the exhausted movement of hip or hand, Annie expresses the depths of her combined determination and despair. She is reduced to a disheveled wreck, chest heaving, shoulders slumped, slovenly hair sloping across her face.
Captured at last, and seated forcibly at table, Helen Keller still does not yield. She flings her spoon away. Annie slaps another into her hand—and another and another. In the end Teacher Annie Sullivan stands triumphant above her charge. She has won a signal victory: Helen has eaten with a spoon and folded her napkin.