Being the continuation of InstaPunk and InstaPunk Rules
Giving Gene Hackman his props
Get link
Facebook
X
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps
1930-2025
I don’t do this very often. Obituaries are a form of fiction I try to avoid. If I do them at all, it’s usually after the initial burst of well intended hagiography has worn off and I feel like I have a unique perspective to offer. This time I’m going to make an exception for several reasons. The circumstances of Gene Hackman’s death are dominating the coverage, and human curiosity aside, what happened in New Mexico seems like none of our business. He was 95 years old, retired for many years, and for many movie fans under the age of 50, he may be a distant memory or a blank. That’s not right. His story shouldn’t be the death story. It should be the work story. Why I feel entitled to chime in where I wouldn’t normally. Never knew anything about his private life, which is the way it probably should be even for the biggest stars. I’m pretty sure he was a private person who wanted to be known for what of himself he had put on film. As a lifelong fan of the cinema, I’ve seen a lot of his movies and think this is a good time to send my fellow fans in search of Hackman performances that should be remembered years from now.
I’m going to show you four or five trailers, including my own favorite and my wife’s, which happen to be quite different. He had extraordinary range, which is something to appreciate in an era where all the praise seems to be lavished on one-note stars like Robert DeNiro, Tom Cruise, and Harrison Ford, or gimmick specialists like Al Pacino, Tom Hanks, and Johnny Depp. Hackman could play any role with seeming effortless naturalism.
Here we go.
I Never Sang for My Father
It can be hard to watch. Especially for men who grew up when fathers were in the business of making their sons into men and heartily disapproved of what their efforts produced in this, that, and the other aspect of adult life. But Hackman leaves the scenery chewing to Melvyn Douglas and all of us aging sons out here can perceive what he’s feeling because he knows what we are feeling too. When you’re in the mood to think about manhood inside the constraints of family, give this classic a try.
The French Connection
Popeye Doyle. You want proof of range? This would be it. Lines that live past the recollection of where you first heard them (“Did you ever pick your toes in Poughkeepsie?”) and a character you can’t really like but who fascinates you anyway. Most people of my generation focused more on the chase scene as the star of the film, regarded by many as superior to the iconic San Francisco joyride in Bullitt. I wasn’t distracted because I preferred McQueen’s masterful driving more than the Cinema Verité slam-bang-crashing under the el in Connection, though I agree it was probably more believable and purposeful in context than the set piece of its predecessor. Lots of good reasons to see this one again in time present. Cops like Hackman’s Doyle are few and far between now.
Did someone say “bullet”? Talk about your smooth transitions… I’m dissolving to another great acrion movie that happens to contain my favorite Gene Hackman scene of all.
Bite the Bullet
A marathon horse race inspired by an actual historic event. With co-stars like James Coburn and Candace Bergen, not to mention some fine horses filmed under extremely difficult conditions. You just have to see it for yourselves. The title is a literal reference to a case of extreme toothache at the worst possible time, when the only available help was a bullet to bite. A great scene but not the best one. That’s Hackman’s character, a former Rough-Rider with Theodore Roosevelt, recounting the truth of the charge up San Juan Hill with TR leading the way as the only mounted rider and number one target of the enemy. As Hackman tells it, you can feel the dirty under your own fingernails and the heroism of the Americans on that day. The ending is not the dream victory of Hoosiers (which I know will figure in many favorite lists), but a more satisfying demonstration of the attained wisdom of a retired civilian soldier. It should leave you feeling glad to have seen it.
Maybe not so much with the next one, which is my wife’s favorite. It’s complex, nerve-wracking, and at the same time subtle in the intricate responses the Hackman character has to the situation he finds himself in, his colleagues in a world steeped in deception, and his own toxic dilemma.
The Conversation
He’s a high-tech eavesdropper, the best of the best in a small but brilliant coterie of rivals in the same trade. His reflexive reaction to challenge or confrontation is not to react at all. Impassivity is his armor. We are the ones who have to figure out what is going on inside his silence and lack of affect. We too have to figure out what is the right thing to do and even if there is a right thing to do. A quiet masterpiece,of a movie withstand remains ambiguous even after the fact of watching it. Is he a villain caught unawares by himself? Can he, could he, be forgiven if he resolves his dilemma cleverly enough?
No such questions about the final movie on our list, clearly labeled…
Unforgiven
Alone of the movie clips shown here, this one isn’t a trailer but the climactic moment the entire film has been aiming for, where an uncharacteristically disreputable Clint Eastwood character announces his intention to murder a famous lawman played by Gene Hackman. Eastwood, who was also the director, drew praise for reinventing the western for the modern idiom, but I don’t believe that’s what he was doing. Far from starting over in the western genre, Unforgiven is a response and therefore an homage to The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, a classic movie by John Ford (asked to name the three best American directors, Orson Welles famously replied, “John Ford, John Ford… and John Ford”). Unforgiven was hardly the first dirty, grungy western with a deeply flawed protagonist, and it’s nothing new for Eastwood to make movies that embody a different perspective than that offered by the acknowledged classics. Indeed, it’s a pattern. High Plains Drifter (High Noon), Pale Rider (Shane), and The Outlaw Josey Wales (The Searchers) are all distinct variations on the greatest westerns of their day.
What does all this have to do with Hackman? He doesn’t have that much time onscreen, similar to the atypically minimal screen time of John Wayne in Ford’s Valance, but like Wayne, Hackman’s character is the commanding figure who outweighs Eastwood’s own presence in the movie up until the final bloody confrontation that completes the drama. That was my own objection to the movie when I first saw it; too much time wasted watching Clint prove what a bouncer he was before until simple vengeance rose up with him and turned him into Clint Eastwood. Until Hackman showed up to create the incentive, the movie was just a bunch of waiting for something big to happen. It’s Hackman who makes that moment big. We detest him, of course, and yet he is legally and perhaps even morally in the right. Killing him is murder. Cold-blooded murder. And in wanting that murder to occur, we in the audience are being confronted ourselves. We prefer the story to any real world truth.
Just as he waited and waited to bring Clint the gunfighter onto the stage, the director has also waited to show his hand regarding how the question being asked in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance is being reframed in Unforgiven. In Valance, the protagonist Jimmy Stewart has enjoyed a long and presumably virtuous career based on the legend that against all odds he slew the evil killer Liberty Valance (Lee Marvin) when in reality, that, um, murder was the act of John Wayne, who lies dead in a coffin throughout the screen time of the movie. The tagline of the Ford movie is “when people prefer the legend, print the legend.” In a sense this forgives the entire fabric of mythology that has been created and maintained about the Wild West. Of course we prefer the heroes the way they have been rewritten for us because the end was a good thing; law and order overcame violence and rapine and chaos to result in the prosperous and virtuous western states of the union. That’s a happy story when all is said and done.
Unforgiven overturns this perspective. The two men who matter here, like Stewart and Wayne in Valance, are essential opposites, in this case a brave but necessarily rough and tumble bringer of order vs a free spirit whose experience has made him cold-blooded and quick to use bullets instead of law to get what he wants, including what he perceives as justice.
Which should be printed here? The truth or the colorfully bloody revenge against a man who might be wearing a badge but still not be sympathetic?
The movie’s answer seems to be more cynical than Ford’s pat nostrum. You can pretend you’re choosing between truth and legend, but its’s the people who choose, who always choose. Why it’s important that Hackman and Eastwood have, ultimately, the same specific gravity as characters. Sinners both, again like all of us, the old immovable object vs irresistible force that creates imponderable ambiguity with respect to the truth.
Unforgiven is as much Hackman’s movie as it is Eastwood’s in performance terms. They are equally matched. Who else could have played Hackman’s role and created the complexities of a key character who seems to have been written rather simply?
Why he was a great actor. He may not seem like a legend but he will live on in the history of his profession longer than almost anyone you can name.
For now, may he rest in peace…
P.S. In the interest of full disclosure, I was not originally a fan of Unforgiven. Back in Shuteye Town 1999, I had it in the Blockbuster category of movies at Toot CD/Video. Not admiringly:
Click on the pic for other not so beloved Blockbusters
Happy Independence Day No. 250! I’m planning to do my part for the year-long celebration of the still remarkable birth of the United States of America. Just starting to realize that the number of us who remember the last big anniversary in 1976 is getting smaller every day. Why I have some special ideas about focusing on the moment of transition, that is the tick of the clock last night when the 249th year became the 250th. A kind of time capsule that may be buried now but dug up later to see who were way back when you were still as young as you think you are now. My credentials for the job. Quite a few actually, but the most important one today is that I was a working participant in the official Bicentennial celebrations back when I was still young. I wrote a post about it almost 10 years ago, ancient history in today’s 24/7 chronometer dial. In honor of the ones no longer with us from that time, I dug up the old post from the Wayback Machine and put it back together here a...
The last group photo I’m a part of that’s still in my possession. My sister’s wedding in the late1990’s, with me and my mother in attendance, here in Salem. I don’t get out much anymore. Haven’t for a long time. If I didn’t take pictures of myself, nobody would, or could, anymore. I don’t give them the chance. Why in recent years I’ve made a point of doing an official birthday selfie, to keep track of the wear and tear of the years and see if the falling apart process is gaining speed. This year was not a good year for hair. That much I’ll tell you. But here’s the Official 74th Birthday Selfie I took on Friday. Not as young as I used to be. I hadn’t really shown this pic to anyone, but imagine my surprise when I received a gift yesterday by parcel delivery from a young lady I helped raise who will always be close to my heart. She and I hadn’t spoken about the Rolling Stones in years, but somehow she must have divined I’d been thinking of them, because here’s what she ordered sent ...
If you’ve never seen an Asylum production of their “Saving the World from Imminent Destruction” series, you’re excused from this post. The rest of us already know the basics. A once prominent, now disgraced scientist (often Sam Baldwin, but not always) is minding his own business making a living income and trying to mend his struggling family life when he notices that something is seriously amiss in the cosmos. Gravity isn’t working quite right. Or all the birds seem to be migrating at the same time. Or some local pond suddenly ejaculates a pillar of lava. You know. The warning knell of an extinction-level catastrophe. Meanwhile, where are the kids? They were supposed to be home by now. He calls his ex-wife. She doesn’t know where they are. He calls an old colleague at the agency in DC where nobody else will take his calls anymore. In a whisper, the colleague tells him the experts in charge haven’t noticed anything to worry about cosmologically speaking. This far in, we already know wh...
Lewis Hamilton wins Seventh World Championship at Formula 1 Grand Prix in Turkey: A stunning drive from Mercedes’ Lewis Hamilton in the Turkish Grand Prix gave him his 10th victory of the season – and, more crucially, saw him claim the seventh drivers’ title of his career, to equal the record of Michael Schumacher, as Racing Point’s Sergio Perez and Ferrari’s Sebastian Vettel completed the podium after a thrilling race in Istanbul. Hamilton had started the race in sixth, risen to third midway through the first lap and then dropped back to sixth by the end of Lap 1 after an error at Turn 9. But a decision to change his intermediate tyres just once saw Hamilton drive a masterful race to claim victory by over 25 seconds from Perez. The win alone was enough to claim championship #7, but it was even more assured after a disastrous race for Valtteri Bottas - the only man who could have stopped Hamilton winning the title today - who spun six times en route to a P14 finish.
This is cross-posted from a confidential site I use to communicate with an old friend on matters more concerned with writing than this one normally is. Sometimes the two sites intersect in unexpected ways. (e.g., See The French Hurry-Up from Feb ‘26.) This does seem an appropriate follow-up to my most recent IPR post. Up to you what you make of it… Inevitably, another major commitment of my time called Instapunk Returns will occasionally stick its nose into the doings here. Working on both, I’m sometimes forced to ask myself how I got from Point A to Point XXX as I seem to have done yesterday at IPR. Specifically, how did I manage to get from here… Yes, I did ‘Shapes’ at graduation, but we all learned our ABCs too. …to here ? The concluding flourish of my latest IPR screed, Thoughts on Foul Language I put the Little Red Hen Nursery School in the same context with the song abcdefu because we all have an important personal timeline with respect to the alphabet. My...
The big historical questions of “What will happen?” are usually best settled in hindsight. The biggest questions generally concern whether or not some historical catastrophe was inevitable or not. The American Civil War. World War I. World War II. Meticulous historians, back when we had them, have given us answers to those three in particular. Yes, yes, and yes. The one that bears the strongest resemblance to our current turning point is our own American Civil War. The young constitutional republic had been born with a deadly contradiction at the heart of its founding documents, the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and the Bill of Rights. The reason for the contradiction was political compromise needed to secure sufficient nationwide support for the adoption of the Constitution. Slavery was a ticking time bomb from 1789 on. Eventually there would have to be a reckoning. Was actual warfare inevitable though? Yes. North and South were unified by their shar...
The Valley of the Jerseyikes When you’ve decided to your own satisfaction that life doesn’t end with physical death, what have you got to worry about? That probably depends on where you come down on the age-old questions about ghosts. Do they exist? Are they a possible fate of troubled souls after they’ve shuffled off this mortal coil or been yanked out of it too suddenly? What if you expire peacefully and find yourself waking up in the attic of your own house, somehow tethered to it with no watch you can trust to keep track of time? I know I’ve stopped wearing a watch at all, like almost all of you out there. Are we taking some kind of risk that we’ll miss the departure signal for the trip to the other side? One side effect of getting old and not liking most of what’s on teevee is that you wind up watching too many paranormal shows, which have the virtue of no politics, no gratuitous sex scenes, and extended stretches of restful watching with almost nothing happening on screen. ...
The CHYOS Club (Pronounced kīos, abbreviated ‘kos, meaning MR ) American Illuminati? We’ve all heard the legends of secret societies. The Renaissance story of the ‘Illuminati’ who rule the world as gray eminences behind the scenes is a legend unsupported by facts or, at any rate, evidence. We also know of outright hoaxes widely believed in, like the Priory of Sion made famous by admittedly fictitious Dan Brown novels and movies. But we also know that there are secret societies at every level of elite life. Who hasn’t heard dark whispers of Yale’s Skull & Bones, numbering the Bushes and John Kerry as members? At the international level, the Freemasons are a proven fact, even if their Illuminati-like influence is only widely believed in the UK, with its historical paranoia about Scotland, where freemasonry re-emerges as a follow-on to the Knights Templar. Great fun, mostly. Who doesn’t thrill to news about Bill schmoozing in the dark at the Bilderberger Group? Conspiracy? All t...
It’s not a long list. That’s the point. Hardly anyone gets to be on it. Nobody’s on it who isn’t a superhuman human. Actual gods don’t count. Only two of those, deliberately excluded. Shakespeare and Mozart. End of that list. You want to fight? Tell me why your guy should be on the List. I’ll tell you why he isn’t. First Guy St. John the Divine Italian Guy Dante English Guys Milton Newton Blake Orwell French Guys Voltaire Pascal German Guys Bach Nietzche Jung Spanish Guy Picasso American Guys Poe Bierce
Comments