"74"

A few months ago, I was watching a flavorful early Cagney entry called “Taxi!” (1932), and in one early scene, witnessed the diminutive but feisty actor of Irish/Norwegian stock speaking Yiddish…not one or two words, mind you, but whole sentences. And I thought to myself — yet another reason to love Jimmy Cagney.

Why, one has to ask, is it not pure megalomania whenever directors direct themselves? Simply put, this is a breed of actor (and director) who understands the vision so completely that the need to control every element, even their own performances, overrides all doubt. Of course, this could look quite a lot like megalomania, or it could simply be pure genius. Or perhaps a bit of both.  For many auteurs, it feels perfectly natural. Orson Welles started out with the Big Bang of "Citizen Kane," his first feature film — with credits for directing, producing, co-writing, and starring — crafting what many critics agree is the best movie of all time.  

Ben Bradlee’s death on Tuesday at age 93 truly feels like the passing of an era. Thus it seems only fitting to revisit the movie that immortalizes him, the times he lived in, and the heroic stand he took: Alan J. Pakula’s “All The President’s Men” (1976).  This riveting, true-life story centers on the history-making reporting by Washington Post reporters Carl Bernstein (Dustin Hoffman) and Bob Woodward (Robert Redford) back in 1972, as they track a tiny, throwaway story about a bungled burglary at the Democratic National Committee headquarters in Washington’s Watergate building. That story eventually leads all the way up to the office of the President, and topples Richard Nixon. Guiding the process with a steady hand throughout is Bradlee (played by Jason Robards, who won an Oscar for this). It was inspired casting, but the gifted Robards fully earns his statuette. “All the President’s Men” milks all the inherent suspense around the unfolding mystery of the Watergate scandal, and the parlor game of guessing the real-life identity of key intel informant “Deep Throat” (Hal Holbrook). Stars Hoffman and Redford also work off each other beautifully. But for anyone interested in the machinery of free speech in this country, watch the movie again for those memorable scenes between Robards’s Bradlee and his editorial staff. 

Name almost any type of film and it’s likely Robert Wise made at least one of them.   Whether it's a horror movie, a science-fiction outing, a war picture, an ensemble drama, a suspense film or a musical, Wise handled it, usually in exceptional fashion. (The only area he really didn’t tackle was pure comedy.)   Yet predictably, his versatility didn’t play well with some film commentators of his time who prescribed to the “auteur” theory, which lent more significance to directors who consistently followed a signature style in their work.

In a variety of interesting ways, mustaches make the man in movies. At the dawn of film, it was usually the villain wearing the ‘stache. In silents and old-time serials, they would twirl them to signify a dastardly deed was being contemplated. These “types” would go on to inspire the indelible character of Snidely Whiplash in the “Dudley Do-Right” segment on “The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show.” I loved that guy. In the realm of silent comedy, the sight of well-placed follicles on the kisser also could elicit laughter from audiences, as evidenced by Charlie Chaplin, Ben Turpin, Andy Clyde, Oliver Hardy and others.

Robert Duvall fully earns the hallowed term “actor’s actor.” He is superb in most anything he’s in. And at age 83, he’s still doing his thing. On a plane recently, I finally caught Tom Cruise’s diverting thriller “Jack Reacher” (2012), and there was octogenarian Duvall playing a gun dealer, stealing every scene he was in. Watching him ace this small but key supporting role made me feel it was time to pay tribute to a man who’s appeared in some of the greatest films of the past half-century.   Born to William Howard Duvall, a career military officer from Virginia, and his wife Mildred, an amateur actress and descendant of General Robert E. Lee, Duvall's childhood was peripatetic; his father was transferred frequently to various bases around the country.

Baby boomers who grew up watching a lot of television probably know Eddie Albert best as Oliver Douglas, the city lawyer turned farmer on “Green Acres.” But like many actors who star in a popular TV series, Albert became so closely identified with the role that it’s almost jarring to see him in a movie, or to realize he’d been one of Hollywood’s most reliable character actors.

Turning leaves, the appearance of tweed, and the visceral thrill of a cool nip in the air all evoke a seasonal tide turning. Autumn on film is one of the medium’s richest commodities, and a visual feast to mirror the one that rolls around every November.  Filmmakers can’t resist all that color or the movement of falling leaves, with deep nostalgia swiftly evoked in a few frames of swirling red and gold. Regardless of plot, cast or dialogue, the unsung hero of the autumnal movie is the cinematographer.  Fall on film seems to break into two categories: city and country; and that city is most often New York. It not only dresses the part, but the energy that arrives in town after Labor Day belongs to a law of physics. 

Keep all those “Zoolander” jokes to yourself, because being a model in a movie doesn’t necessarily mean a pretty face (or body) catwalking across the screen for mere amusement or titillation, or because the director needed a hot date for the Screen Actors Guild awards. Underneath the high cheekbones and sculpted abs often lie the makings of a great actor. Here are some of the folks who made astonishingly smooth moves from still photography to motion pictures.