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The story of Gene Hackman, one of the finest screen actors of his generation, is one of raw will and talent overcoming a host of limitations that would have defeated most people.

I have an ongoing love affair with New York, the city that formed me. I was born here, and though I’ve left occasionally, it was never for very long. The pace, color, and excitement of this amazing town always drew me back like a magnet, and holds me still. No surprise then that I love experiencing the potent nostalgia of great films that recall the New York City of my early years.

I will always remember the pure exhilaration I felt watching Quentin Tarantino’s “Pulp Fiction” for the first time in a theater thirty years ago. The memory is so clear of first realizing that I was experiencing an extraordinary piece of filmmaking, deliriously entertaining but also completely fresh and unique. What made “Pulp” so exciting and distinctive?

Do you remember Walter Brennan? Sure you do. No? Well, you should. After all, he spent four decades as sidekick to some of the top stars in the business. If his face isn’t familiar, I’ll bet you’d recognize his voice. Like Cagney, Bogart, and Mr. Magoo, Brennan owned a voice that was unmistakable. It became fodder for comedians and impressionists, and I’m pretty sure one of your uncles took a crack at it, too.    Brennan was the go-to guy when a director needed a town drunk, a good-hearted hobo, a local priest, or a deputy (he was indeed a natural for Westerns). But to say he was merely adept at playing local yokels undermines his achievements in the business. Brennan won the first ever Best Supporting Actor Oscar in 1937, and by 1941 had won it twice more. His feat of winning three Academy Awards wasn’t matched by another actor until Jack Nicholson and Daniel Day-Lewis did it decades later (and Nicholson and Day-Lewis needed a lot more than four years to equal Brennan’s record). To date, Brennan is still the only actor to win three statuettes for Best Supporting Actor. 

If you ask a true movie buff to identify the most gifted director in the history of film comedy, believe it or not, you might not hear the names Woody Allen, Rob Reiner, or even Mel Brooks – funny as many of their films may be. Some aficionados might point to Chaplin, Keaton, or Preston Sturges. My own vote goes to Ernst Lubitsch.             His string of classic comedies, extending from the late ‘20s to the early ‘40s, were all characterized by what became known as “The Lubitsch Touch.” The key to his approach lay in trusting his audience’s intelligence, in their ability to infer and appreciate subtle comic nuance. Try to imagine that happening in today’s Hollywood.      Lubitsch relied more on suggestion than demonstration; he counted on his public to fill in the blanks, and of course, they did. He was known for his urbane characters, witty dialogue, and chic, exotic settings - catnip for Depression-era audiences desperate for escape and a heady dose of glamour.