There are six performers who I consider the titans of modern American acting, all of whom emerged in the New Hollywood films of the 1960s and 1970s - Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Jack Nicholson, Dustin Hoffman, Robert Duvall, and the late, great Gene Hackman. It's been hard watching my heroes get old, particularly when their performances are among the most alive and energetic ever put on film. I knew it was only a matter of time before these legends began to leave us, and in February, Gene Hackman and his wife Betsy Hackman tragically passed away in their New Mexico home.
Truth be told, my earliest memories of Hackman are from the 1998 DreamWorks Animation film
Antz (where he voiced the villain, Mandible) and
The Replacements (2000), a football comedy co-starring Keanu Reeves. It wasn't until 2001 that I became exposed to the full range of what the great man could do onscreen: in David Mamet's
Heist, he was the essence of cool alongside Danny DeVito and Delroy Lindo; in
Behind Enemy Lines, he was rock solid as a commanding officer opposite Owen Wilson; in
Heartbreakers, he was the wily comic relief; in
The Mexican, his one scene was the high point of the film; and in Wes Anderson's
The Royal Tenenbaums, he gave (in my opinion) the best performance of his entire career. I saw each of these films in cinemas in 2001, and Hackman made a strong impression - one that was about to be expanded when I started watching his earlier work.
The Royal Tenenbaums holds a particular significance for me. In the months leading up to its release, I was anxiously awaiting the film after reading about it in Entertainment Weekly's fall movie preview issue (I ended up cutting out the film's poster from the magazine and putting it on my mom's fridge - where it remains to this day). I remember adoring
Tenenbaums when I saw it opening weekend in Austin (at the original Arbor Cinema location, which became a Cheesecake Factory not long after) - but it was my second viewing experience that remains among my most cherished.
I spent some time in late 2001 and early 2002 at my grandmother's house in East Texas, where my father, a struggling alcoholic, was also staying at the time. After numerous stints in rehabs over the prior few years, he was attempting to start over, working as a clerk at a local courthouse. I hadn't seen much of him that year, as he wasn't living in Austin, but we got to be with each other for a little while over the winter break. That trip turned out to be the last time I ever saw him, as he passed away on April 29th, 2002 from a heart attack brought on by excessive drinking.
Having already seen The Royal Tenenbaums and knowing my father's affinity for Wes Anderson's prior movie, Rushmore (1998), I was insistent that he and I see the film together. The only problem is that it wasn't playing anywhere in East Texas. The closest cinema playing Tenenbaums was in Shreveport, Louisiana, which is about an hour drive from Hallsville. That didn't deter us - we took a father-son road trip to see the movie, listening to a newly-purchased Bryan Adams cassette tape on the way.
As we watched
The Royal Tenenbaums in that Shreveport cinema, I'd like to think it wasn't lost on me that this film I so desperately wanted my dad to see was itself about a neglectful father trying to make amends with his children before his death. It wasn't an exact parallel to our relationship, but the film touched on enough resonant themes that it felt like the right movie to see at that particular moment. I wish I remembered my dad's full reaction to the film, but I do remember he found one of Hackman's lines very funny: "Well, we'll have to swing by her grave, too."
With Royal Tenenbaum, Gene Hackman gave us a character with a wicked sense of humor and a self-destructive bent - but one who also genuinely desires to make amends to those he's hurt. The character felt real, particularly in the heightened world for which Wes Anderson has become so well known. I don't know if my dad saw anything of himself in Hackman's performance, but it's a character I've held close ever since his death. And it's partly why I consider it the most moving, full-bodied performance Gene Hackman ever gave.
In the years following my dad's passing, I dove headfirst into movies as a necessary distraction, with a particular interest in the films of the 60s, 70s and 80s. This sent me on a collision course with many of Hackman's seminal films, including Arthur Penn's
Bonnie and Clyde (1967), William Friedkin's
The French Connection (1971), Francis Ford Coppola's
The Conversation (1974), Alan Parker's
Mississippi Burning (1988), and Clint Eastwood's
Unforgiven (1992). These were movies that I cherished, and I count all of them among my favorite films. It was clear that not only was Gene Hackman still giving powerhouse performances in new releases (as evidenced by his
five screen performances in 2001 alone), but that he was at the forefront of many of the great American films of the 20th century.
During my early teenage years, I saw a number of grief counselors, and I remember one of them told me his favorite movie was Jerry Schatzberg's
Scarecrow (1973), starring Hackman and Al Pacino as two vagabonds. Hackman himself considered this his best performance, and it's a remarkably moving buddy comedy that remains underseen (despite having won the Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival). Another unheralded gem from this era is Arthur Penn's
Night Moves (1975), which is about to get a 4K release from The Criterion Collection. I always cite this movie as having one of my favorite taglines: "Maybe he would find the girl... maybe he would find himself."
In 2010, while studying at NYU, I became friends with Grant Rosenmeyer, who played Ari Tenenbaum in The Royal Tenenbaums. I was (and still am) in awe of him - here is somebody who went toe-to-toe with Gene Hackman at ten years old (and in his first movie, no less)! Needless to say, I relished the behind-the-scenes stories Grant told me about working on that film. It's heartwarming to hear how gentle Hackman was with the child actors on set, making sure they were safe during stunts, had enough to eat at lunch, and were treated as equals to their adult counterparts by the cast and crew.
In writing this admittedly meandering tribute, I haven't even touched on Hackman's extraordinary work in films as varied as
Reds (1981),
Hoosiers (1986),
The Firm (1993),
Get Shorty (1995),
The Birdcage (1996),
Young Frankenstein (1974),
Superman (1978), and
Runaway Jury (2003). I'm grateful that there are still dozens of Hackman films I've never seen - it feels like there's a treasure trove of great performances awaiting me. Gene Hackman's warm, familiar screen presence and mirthless chuckle will live on forever through his tremendous body of work. We're lucky to have had him as long as we did.
