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Humphrey Bogart was once asked if he had any difficulty putting aside his tough image to play a romantic leading man in “Casablanca” (1942). He said it was easy. “It helps,” Bogie said, “if you’re looking into the eyes of Ingrid Bergman.”

Lauren Bacall will be remembered as a larger than life Hollywood figure, but film lovers might be surprised to learn that she appeared in less than 50 features. In a business where one dreads being forgotten, Bacall took her time when it came to taking roles, confident that the public would still be there when she returned. During her heyday, Bacall rarely worked more than once a year. Later, she was known to take long breaks in between projects, something few actresses did in those days. The result is a filmography that is more tastefully cultivated than most, with very few bombs or stinkers. Even a movie like “The Fan” (1981), a gaudy thriller which some felt was beneath her, has endured as a kind of cult object. When that one wrapped, Bacall did another of her disappearing acts, this time for seven years. Of course, the dismantling of the old studio system may have had something to do with her dwindling appearances; she always preferred that more orderly way of making pictures.

Lauren Bacall, one of the most alluring leading ladies ever to come out of Hollywood, passed away Tuesday at the age of 89. Though she was best known for playing opposite husband Humphrey Bogart in such classics as “The Big Sleep” (1946) and “Key Largo” (1948), her film career sustained itself long after Bogart was gone. “Written on The Wind” (1956), “Harper” (1966), “Murder on the Orient Express” (1974), and dozens of other films benefited from her uniquely feline presence and husky voice. She was class, sass, humor, and chutzpah all rolled up into one glamorous package. Bacall, a New Yorker born Betty Joan Perske on September 16, 1924, was only nineteen when she made her screen debut opposite Bogie in “To Have and Have Not.” Despite her youth, she held her own opposite an established star more than twice her age. Still, during her first few days on-set, she was so nervous she prayed the camera wouldn't pick up her hands shaking. It didn't.  And of course, she created that film’s most indelible moment when she purred to Bogart, “You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve? You just put your lips together and... blow.” Audiences indeed were blown away. So was Bogie; he and Bacall were married within a year. Their relationship was one of the more storied romances in Hollywood, lasting until Bogart’s death from cancer in 1957.

How many actors have looked at James Garner's square jaw and wavy black hair and wished they could cut such a manly figure? Yet Garner was most comfortable in roles where he was considerably less than heroic. He was a regular, folksy kind of guy trapped in a movie star's body. But if you had ever called him a movie star, he'd have probably shrugged it off. Garner, who passed away Saturday night at age 86, often said that didn't care much about Hollywood, and that he'd stumbled into acting by accident. A friend had once told Garner he planned to work in Los Angeles as an agent. After serving in the Korean War (where he earned two Purple Hearts), Garner worked dozens of odd jobs that took him on a circuitous route to LA. One day Garner noticed a sign on a window with his old friend's name on it. Indeed, Garner's buddy had done just what he said: gone to LA and become an agent. On a whim, Garner visited his friend and was offered a non-speaking role in a Broadway production of “The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial." Garner was 25, and not interested in acting, but knew he couldn't pass up the job. He especially wanted a chance to meet the show's star, Henry Fonda. Garner would later say, "I swiped practically all my acting style from him." Garner began his film career in 1956, as a contract player for Warner Bros., at a rate of $200 per week. It was, he thought, a way to make a buck.

It’s very hard not to like Harrison Ford. He seems like one of us. He’s a ruggedly handsome, well-built guy, but his prominent nose, slightly goofy, off-center grin, and that prominent scar on his chin, somehow make him more human and accessible than your standard issue leading man. And in all his “heroic” roles, be it Han Solo or Richard Kimble, he’s never afraid to show us when he’s totally freaked out. I love that.    Not many people know this, but Ford’s movies have grossed more worldwide than any other actor’s, close to — wait for this — $6 billion. Yet the man seems completely humble and down-to-earth. (I know — I’ve met him.) Why? Because, God bless him, he recognizes the role  luck played in his remarkable journey. Ford was a native of the Chicago suburbs whose adult life started without much direction. Showing little interest in his philosophy studies at Wisconsin’s Ripon College, Ford decided an acting class might help him get over his shyness. Hey Mikey — he liked it! He then quit college, did a season in summer stock, and leapt off to LA with dreams of becoming an actor. Yeah, him and everyone else.

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. 

I’m taking this opportunity to speak directly to six gifted actors whose recent output on the big screen does not live up to their God-given (and Method-trained) abilities.  We can always learn from history, right? In that spirit, I’m suggesting some other players from yesteryear whose examples might provide some inspiration if these stars choose to break out of their respective ruts.   I fervently hope at least some of them do.   

It’s a bit of a mystery why lines like  “Do I feel lucky?” (“Dirty Harry,” 1971)  and “I’ll be back!” (“The Terminator,” 1984) enter the popular zeitgeist, but there’s no denying they do. And there’s more than a bit of magic to that.

In need of a laugh? Aren’t we all? That simple truth explains why there is nothing better than a consistently funny movie. Given the tricky, delicate nature of comedy, I’d also claim there are few things worse than a movie that tries to be funny but isn’t. It’s hardly surprising that there are many more comedies out there of the latter variety.