Any opportunity to see Gene Hackman on the big screen was always a privilege, even when the characters he played were morally grey and the movies perhaps not his best. He made enough “hits” (more than most) that it’s easy to forgive the misses. No matter what the quality of the film, he was always good in it, and the turkeys were often turkeys only in relation to the eagles. My, how I miss his kind. It was a great era for the movies, especially when Gene was just hitting his stride.
Sometimes it came at a cost to those around him. I’ve read multiple accounts of Hackman being difficult on the set, especially with untried directors. (There are behind-the-scenes horror stories about “Hoosiers” and “The Royal Tenenbaums.”) I must say, Hackman reminded me an awful lot of my father in “The Royal Tenenbaums.” Draw your own conclusions.
Apparently, his wife was a classically trained pianist. He was one of the few white guys, outside of Sinatra and the Blues Brothers, that could pull off wearing a pork pie hat.
R.I.P., Gene. I’ll be picking my feet in Poughkeepsie.
In “It’s a Wonderful Life,” Lionel Barrymore plays heartless Old Man Potter, a modern-day Scrooge, who views his fellow citizens of Bedford Falls as so much grist to be ground for his own profit. Barrymore the man, however, was full of generous human qualities, with a great enthusiasm and aptitude for the arts. I’d long known that he was also a composer, but it is only in doing a YouTube search this week that I discovered a broader cross-section of his output than the last time I checked, now perhaps eight years ago.
Barrymore was born in Philadelphia in 1878. He was, of course, part of a venerable acting dynasty that also included his famous siblings, John and Ethel Barrymore. He’s also the great-uncle of Drew Barrymore.
He was especially fine in character roles, playing a variety of them on screen, in retrospect perhaps most memorable for his curmudgeons. He played the irascible Dr. Gillespie in the “Doctor Kildare” movies of the 1930s and ‘40s. He was Ebenezer Scrooge in annual radio broadcasts of “A Christmas Carol.” Of course, he is probably most familiar these days as the soul-crushing capitalist Mr. Potter. He was honored with an Academy Award for Best Actor for his performance in “A Free Soul” in 1931.
Despite his natural aptitude and widely acknowledged success in the field, it had never been his ambition to act. Instead, he was interested in being a visual artist. He even trained in Paris, and his prints and etchings were widely circulated.
As a composer, several of his piano works were published. His “Tableau Russe” was played, in both its piano and orchestral versions, in the film “Dr. Kildare’s Wedding Day.” His orchestral piece, “In Memoriam,” written to the memory of his brother John, was performed by the Philadelphia Orchestra. He also wrote an historical novel, “Mr. Cantonwine: A Moral Tale.”
Barrymore died in 1954. He had suffered from crippling arthritis for decades, which is why you’ll generally see him a wheelchair in most of his later films. He also broke his hip twice. He required morphine and cocaine to get through a shoot and to get to sleep at night. It was only through frequent injections of painkillers that he was able to get through “You Can’t Take It with You” on crutches.
Barrymore’s “Halloween Suite” can be heard here, beginning at the 36-minute mark. Barrymore is the narrator. Mario Lanza also appears on the concert. Miklós Rózsa conducts.
Music for the ages? Who cares? I would be the first in line if Naxos were to put out such an album.
Happy birthday, Lionel Barrymore!
PHOTOS (counterclockwise from top) As Old Man Potter; as himself; behind the scenes of “Rasputin and the Empress” (1932), the only film he ever made with both his siblings; and at lunch with fellow composers Eugene Zador, Charles Wakefield Cadman, Nat Finston, Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco, and Daniele Amfitheatrof.
Sean Connery has died, and I am sorry to see him go. Some of my favorite Connery films: “The Wind and the Lion,” “The Man Who Would Be King,” “Outland,” “The Great Train Robbery,” “The Molly Maguires,” “The Name of the Rose,” “Robin and Marian,” and of course, “The Untouchables.” His cameo was one of the few redeeming factors of “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves,” and he was the only reason I made it through “Highlander.” In my own way, God help me, I even loved “Zardoz.” I confess, I’ve never been much of a Bond fan, but his characterization was the best. I miss seeing real men in the movies, or at least leading men with presence. They are now literally a dying breed. Thank you, Sir Sean. You lived through a great era at the movies, at least earlier in your career and in your prime, and you lived long. R.I.P.
PHOTO: Connery saves another bad movie, as Ramirez, in “Highlander.” The only authentic Scotsman in the film, naturally he plays a Spaniard, though we’re told he’s originally from Egypt. (Don’t ask.)
So sorry to learn of the death of Ian Holm, a marvelous actor, who enlivened any movie he was in, whether it be “Alien,” “Chariots of Fire,” “Greystoke,” or “Henry V.” Some may recognize him from his work in Peter Jackson’s bloated “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy.
Apparently, Holm suffered from crippling stage fright. Hard to believe, for an artist of his stature, but even Olivier claimed to struggle against it. The theater’s loss was the movies’ gain.
PHOTOS (counterclockwise from top): Holm as Phillippe d’Arnot, teaching Tarzan to shave in “Greystoke” (1984), as Bilbo Baggins, with his Ring of Power in “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring” (2001), as Napoleon Bonaparte in “Time Bandits” (1981), and as the “goddamned robot” Ash in “Alien” (1979)
