Why Doesn’t Hollywood Produce Actors Like Gene Hackman Anymore?
Last Saturday at the Screen Actors Guild Awards, one of the defining moments of the evening was Timothée Chalamet receiving Best Actor for his performance in “A Complete Unknown.” Not just because it was an upset for Adrien Brody who seemed primed to take the prize for his turn in “The Brutalist” — even Kieran Culkin made a joke about it during his own rambling speech — but also because of what Chalamet told the crowd and the audience watching at home.
“I can’t downplay the significance of this award because it means the most to me, and I know we’re in a subjective business, but the truth is I’m really in pursuit of greatness,” Chalamet said. “I know people don’t usually talk like that, but I want to be one of the greats. I’m inspired by the greats. I’m inspired by the greats here tonight. I’m as inspired by Daniel Day-Lewis, Marlon Brando, and Viola Davis as I am by Michael Jordan, Michael Phelps, and I want to be up there. So I’m deeply grateful. This doesn’t signify that, but it’s a little more fuel. It’s a little more ammo to keep going.”
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It’s not often young actors are so openly vocal about their aspirations, let alone their competitive nature, and while many found his swagger off-putting, others were moved by his reverence for those who came before and the passion he brings as part of a new generation of rising stars. But then something happened in the speech’s aftermath that’s made at least this writer wonder if Chalamet’s words may point to a more complex issue faced by Hollywood in this current moment.
In the days between the SAG Awards and the 97th Academy Awards — a period in Hollywood marked by community, celebration, and an honoring of cinema’s legacy — Gene Hackman and his wife, Betsy Arakawa, were found dead in their home in Santa Fe, New Mexico. While Hackman was not one of the actors listed by Chalamet in his speech, in the immediate aftermath of his passing, many have been quick to define the two-time Oscar winner similarly as one of the greatest performers to ever burn up the stage and screen. And yet, trying to put Hackman next to the talents of Day-Lewis, Brando, and Davis does feel like a silly comparison to make.
For one thing, every actor listed by Chalamet started performing at a very young age, with Day-Lewis and Brando even being brought up by mothers who were actors. Hackman, on the other hand, didn’t start training at the Pasadena Playhouse until he was 26. This followed a five-year stint in the Marine Corps starting when he was 16, as well as time spent working various odd jobs in New York City and studying at, then dropping out of the University of Chicago. This isn’t to say acting wasn’t of interest to Hackman during his childhood, but his path to the profession was not a direct one as it had been for so many of his era and so many since.
“Acting was something I wanted to do since I was 10 and saw my first movie,” Hackman said in a 1988 interview with the Deseret News. “I was so captured by the action guys. Jimmy Cagney was my favorite. Without realizing it, I could see he had tremendous timing and vitality. Guys like Errol Flynn were a problem for me. I would come out of the theater and see myself in the mirror of the lobby and be stunned that I didn’t look like him.”
Like Chalamet, Hackman held his own influences and appreciation for the performers who came before him, but was conscious that he might not have the good looks and easy-going personality to make it in the pictures. Even in recognizing his affinity for James Cagney, whose button-nose and short stature contrasted against his bombastic presence, Hackman is registering the type of Hollywood actor that created a space for themselves rather than worked to fit any mold. Like Hackman, Cagney came into the movie business with years of real life experience under his belt, having worked as a junior architect, a custodian, a bellhop, and even a lightweight boxer.
Another classic screen legend Hackman draws comparisons to is Humphrey Bogart. Born on Christmas in 1899, Bogart was a rapscallion from the jump despite being born into a fairly well-off family. After leaving Phillips Academy after one semester due to failing grades and unruly behavior, Bogart enlisted in the U.S. Navy during World War I, where it’s said he may have received his trademark scar and lisp. Following his service, he went on to serve as a shipper, a bond salesman, a chess hustler, and a barroom brawler, all before finally finding his place amidst the footlights of the Broadway stage. No doubt that without these experiences, Bogart might not have ever appeared so naturally as the tough, but riotous men he played in films throughout the ’30s, ’40s, and ’50s.
Both Bogart and Cagney helped set the standard for what we would now define as the anti-hero, an archetype Hackman would further help shape in his career-defining and Oscar-winning role as Jimmy “Popeye” Doyle in “The French Connection.” Hackman was already 40 at this point, only a few years older than he was when he had his first career breakout in “Bonnie & Clyde” at 37. In the next three years following his Oscar win, Hackman would go on to star in 10 films, including “Cisco Pike,” “Prime Cut,” “The Poseidon Adventure,” “Scarecrow,” and “The Conversation,” as well as appear in a cameo for Mel Brooks’ “Young Frankenstein.” By all accounts, Hackman had become the kind of overnight success story Hollywood fawns over, but while many of those figures don’t make it past their first 15 minutes, the former-jarhead-turned-performer would continue to delight movie audiences with his emblematic irascibility for the next 30 years.
Similar to how Bogart and Cagney built their relationship with viewers by reflecting the broken men American society often didn’t lend the spotlight, Hackman’s legacy rests in parts that remind us of all the bastards humanity is forced to reckon with — the absent fathers and racist cops, the unwanted listeners and intolerant politicians. He found humor and zest in these scumbags, but also pain or even a toxic sense of longing. And when his characters faced their comeuppance, as they often did, he always managed to play to the audience’s sense of amusement, rather than reach for our pity or sympathy. He fully understood that guys like Little Bill in “Unforgiven” or Harry Zimm in “Get Shorty” were not men to aspire to and reveled in highlighting both their flaws and what they would reap. At the same time, while many of his peers, including classmates Robert Duvall and Dustin Hoffman, were working to be the next Brando by embracing the Stanislavski system of acting he’d been taught, Hackman was not someone who needed to do anything fancy to become someone else.
In a post shared on X, formerly known as Twitter, following Hackman’s passing, his “Loose Cannons” co-star Dan Aykroyd said of working with him on the comedy, “Made a D grade picture with Gene and Dom DeLuise. We laughed together through the whole fiasco. Gene told me he only needed four instructions from directors. Louder. Softer. Faster. Slower.” While it may not say much about how he prepared before arriving on set, this recollection from Aykroyd says a lot about Hackman’s approach and his ability to adapt to whatever situation he was thrown into. Moreover, it speaks to just how different Hackman was from the kind of talent studios seek out nowadays and what modern young actors aspire to become.
When you think about the new class of Hollywood star, along with Chalamet, other names that come to mind are Sydney Sweeney, Michael B. Jordan, Austin Butler, Keke Palmer, Zendaya, Glen Powell — again, all individuals who’ve had acting incorporated into their upbringing and who now have built entire empires around themselves so as to have more power over their “brand” and output. This vertical integration of the acting profession has also made it easier for studios to insulate themselves by insisting no project go forward without a talent attachment who sells themself, rather than the other way around. And in terms of independent cinema, rare is it a film at this level is even given the chance to perform without the kind of star-power that might garner awards attention or, at the very least, has enough of a fan base to guarantee strong box office returns or views on streaming platforms.
Hackman never had to worry about any of this bullshit. For him — as it was for many actors of his era and before — the job was to read the script, learn the lines, hit your mark, and collect the check. Maybe he’d have to throw on a tux every now and again for a premiere or an awards event, or appear on Letterman to promote a project, but by and large, he really was able to treat acting as just a vocation and not the entire lifestyle many professionals are forced to make it today. What’s worse is how this environment breeds an aversion to the type of risk that allowed Hackman — or even Bogart and Cagney for that matter — to find a place on the big screen.
Were all of Hackman’s films or performances stunners? Absolutely not. But thanks to the Hollywood system in place during his career, his ability to maintain a consistent output meant that at least one of the two or three films he appeared in each year would be a hit. Sometimes, they all would be. A great example of this was Hackman’s 1995, when he starred in Sam Raimi’s “The Quick and the Dead,” Tony Scott’s “Crimson Tide,” and Barry Sonnenfeld’s “Get Shorty.” Three very different films across very different genres, yet all managed to appeal to large audiences and continue to be talked about today.
“The Quick and the Dead” is a particularly interesting case as it was a moderate success at the time, but has grown a large cult following since. The film features Leonardo DiCaprio as the son of Hackman’s sadistic John Herrod, a casting choice that proves all the more interesting when you realize how these characters work in opposition to one another. Though certainly not in any direct manner, “The Quick and the Dead” may have signaled the kind of actor Hollywood was about to become a lot more interested in, as well as the talent they were ready to let fall by the wayside. In truth, the few actors who can say they share a similar lineage to Bogart, Cagney, and Hackman, like James Gandolfini and Bryan Cranston, found more success on television than they did in theaters over the last few decades, a fact that perhaps contributed to Hackman’s own retirement from acting in 2004.
We’ve also reached a point where other actors have tried to emulate Hackman within specific characters, like Jude Law recently did with “The Order,” rather than casting directors or filmmakers just finding and supporting authentically gruff performers who may not be traditionally good-looking or come with a big following. One need only look to Colin Farrell’s extensive transformation towards the grotesque for “The Penguin” to see that Hollywood’s obsession with bending reality has quickly surpassed its desire to capture it. Perhaps Hackman sensed this in his final years acting, as he was known to be more ornery with each passing entry in his canon. Stories from the set of the 2001 family dramedy “The Royal Tenenbaums” in particular paint the picture of a curmudgeon who hated being at the command of a kid director like Wes Anderson (only 31 at the time of production).
In an interview with the Associated Press conducted around the time of Hackman’s death, one of the film’s ensemble members, Bill Murray, said of the leading man, “He was a tough nut, Gene Hackman. But he was really good. And he was really difficult, we can say it now, but he was a tough guy. Older, great actors do not give young directors much of a chance. They’re really rough on them, and Gene was really rough on Wes.”
Not to read too much into the situation, but isn’t it also possible Hackman’s sensibilities just didn’t match up with the intricacy Anderson strives for in his work? And this isn’t to say Hackman didn’t turn in one of the best performances of his career as neglectful patriarch Royal. He did earn a Golden Globe win for Best Actor after all. However, just as being paired with sitcom star Ray Romano in the 2004 comedy “Welcome to Mooseport” cemented the end of his life as a performer, it’s hard to imagine Hackman enjoying his time on “The Royal Tenenbaums” when most of the other people around him were still in the nascent years of their professional lives and just starting to make a name for themselves. But moreover, it was probably difficult for Hackman to reach for the same passion and patience a film like “Tenenbaums” sought from its cast and crew. Maybe, at the end of the day, he just didn’t want to have to care as much about what went into a movie when he’d spent his life proving how much of a reliable entity he already was.
The self-seriousness involved in producing art nowadays makes sense when you consider just how far we’ve come from the relatively healthy Hollywood system of prior decades. There’s a lot that forces actors into the position of meeting demands beyond that of embodying the characters they play and make their ability to do so contingent on a carefully crafted charisma honed, seemingly, since birth. Even now, the environment continues to shift, with many studios more excited by pre-packaged audiences built via TikTok or YouTube or the prospect of generative AI, as it might keep them from having to work with pesky actors altogether. It’s unlikely Hackman could see this coming, but in retiring and stepping far away from the limelight when he did, he may have been exhibiting an awareness many try to avoid as they get older and times change, but that always shined through across every role he played. It’s a shame Chalamet didn’t recognize his talents alongside the other actors listed in his SAG speech, but what’s even more troubling is how the idea of acting greatness itself may soon be lost entirely.
To this, the only solace one can offer is… at least we had Gene Hackman.
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