Gene Hackman’s Absolute Power

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Gene Hackman was a master of the enigmatic smile. The slight upward turn of his lips, followed by a fleeting pause, hinted at an exhilarating event on the horizon, yet the unpredictability of his performance kept you guessing. This ability to captivate made Hackman, who passed away at 95 with his wife Betsy Arakawa, a renowned classical pianist by his side, one of the most prominent figures in Hollywood during the 1970s. His status ensured steady work for him until his retirement several decades ago. However, the circumstances surrounding their deaths (Hackman and his wife) are currently under investigation, though authorities suspect it was not foul play.

In the films Hackman stars in, a smile or grin from him often indicates potential imminent violence or cruelty. For instance, in “The Quick and the Dead,” his character, John Herod, uses insinuating smiles to manipulate others, such as when he warns Sharon Stone’s character to leave town. In this scene, his smile signals danger, whether it be a physical attack or a more prolonged act of cruelty. Similarly, in “The French Connection,” Hackman’s character Popeye Doyle uses a persistent, nonsensical question to disorient suspects during interrogations. So, if you see Hackman flashing his teeth in delight, beware, as it may signal an aggressive or malicious act coming up.

At other instances, the Hackman’s smile concealed confusion, deceit, cowardice, or fractures. The 1974 suspenseful thriller by Francis Ford Coppola, titled The Conversation, features Hackman as a surveillance expert named Harry Caul who becomes entangled in a conspiracy. Throughout the film, there are numerous subtly distinct but equally captivating Hackman smiles, many of which are layered within a scene where Caul unexpectedly hosts a gathering at his run-down office. Within just a few minutes, we see a self-assured “indeed, the legend is valid” smile when Caul’s partner (John Cazale) asks him to share the tale of hiding a bug in a parrot, followed by a dominant grin as Caul displays his custom-made shotgun microphone. A “who’s the geek now?” smile emerges as he draws a potential one-night stand closer, a forced laugh surfaces when he dismisses a partnership offer by telling an offensive joke that gets no reaction, and finally, an “I nailed that joke!” smile, serving as a silent audience, appears as he walks away.

Despite a decade where performers like Shelley Duvall, Richard Pryor, Dustin Hoffman, Liza Minnelli, Telly Savalas, and others with faces reminiscent of city buses became household names, Hackman distinguished himself by presenting an ordinary demeanor while crafting unique fireworks shows. He was a middle-class individual with an education and creativity, yet he wasn’t pretentious or overly artistic; hailing from the west with a vocal style that could evoke settings ranging from the glitzy metropolises of Los Angeles and Miami to the open landscapes of Kansas and Iowa.

Born and raised in California, Hackman experienced disenchantment due to his parents’ divorce and his father’s absence. His life took a turn when he joined the U.S. Marine Corps at 16, and later attended acting classes in Pasadena and New York, sharing living quarters with Dustin Hoffman and Robert Duvall. Over four decades of work, Hackman became an icon for American fathers – a symbol of masculinity for men who felt they could handle dangerous situations despite ordinary lives. His on-screen persona embodied the robust, straightforward American white man, common from Puget Sound to Indianapolis, and down into Florida’s panhandle. This character was typically married with two grown children, owned two homes, and might have been a Republican but was open to persuasion. Despite his appearance – broad shoulders, large hands, narrow eyes, a nose reminiscent of W.C. Fields, and a modest paunch concealed by a windbreaker – he seemed ageless, looking 50 whether he was 30 or 70. His receding hairline was noticeable early in his career, which he sometimes used for comedic effect, such as when he portrayed the old blind man who unwittingly tormented Peter Boyle’s monster in “Young Frankenstein” and Lex Luthor opposite Christopher Reeve’s Superman. (Luthor was bald in the comics, but Hackman requested not to maintain the look from director Richard Donner, a request that proved beneficial during the climax of “Superman: The Movie,” when, as the villain is delivered to prison, Luthor defiantly removes a wig, revealing himself to the warden as “Lex Luthor … the most brilliant criminal mind of our time!”)

Throughout his extensive and multifaceted career, Hackman’s natural talent and boundless energy enabled him to collaborate with some of the most esteemed directors, writers, and performers. He received an Academy Award for Best Actor in “The French Connection” and Best Supporting Actor for his role as the ruthless sheriff Little Bill Daggett in Clint Eastwood’s “Unforgiven,” who viciously attacks Eastwood’s character, eventually succumbing to lead poisoning. Hackman was also nominated for three additional Academy Awards: one for playing Clyde’s brother in “Bonnie and Clyde,” another for portraying a conflicted son in “I Never Sang for My Father,” and yet another for his role as FBI agent Rupert Anderson in “Mississippi Burning.” This film was controversial due to the real-world FBI’s tendency to monitor, harass, and frame civil rights activists rather than protect them. However, Hackman’s character was based on a real agent who played a significant role in solving the murders, and his captivating performance mitigated factual inconsistencies, transforming Anderson into a progressive interpretation of Popeye Doyle, who selectively adapted his biography to charm and vanquish racists. Along the way, Hackman accumulated awards and honors from numerous sources. The Golden Globes recognized him with the award for Best Actor in a Musical or Comedy for “The Royal Tenenbaums,” during which he had creative differences with his young director, Wes Anderson, who later praised him as one of the most challenging and exceptional actors he ever collaborated with.

In essence, Gene Hackman’s career challenges the common belief that actors who undergo significant physical transformations are the epitome of acting excellence. Rather than drastically altering his appearance, Hackman was able to portray vastly different characters without changing his look significantly. For instance, in the 1998 techno-thriller “Enemy of the State,” despite everyone involved insisting that he was reprising his role as Harry Caul from “The Conversation,” Hackman was actually playing a new character – a black-ops figure mentoring Will Smith’s fugitive. The Gene Hackman who played the self-sacrificing priest in “The Poseidon Adventure” bore no physical resemblance to the ex-athlete turned private eye in “Night Moves,” or the inspirational coaches in “Downhill Racer,” “Hoosiers,” and “The Replacements.” He also portrayed a tyrannical submarine captain in “Crimson Tide,” the villainous Herod in “The Quick and the Dead,” the straying husband and steelworker in the marital drama “Twice in a Lifetime” from 1985, and the pathetic producer in “Get Shorty” who imitated the movie’s badass loan-shark hero with similar success to Harry Caul telling jokes.

In this movie No Way Out, Hackman skillfully portrays David Brice, a man in high office who abuses his power and becomes enraged when he suspects his mistress is unfaithful. In the heat of an argument, he ends up killing her and delegates the cover-up to his loyal, yet dangerous subordinate. Hackman delivers an exceptional, selfless performance as Brice, a man whose identity is entirely tied to his position; once Brice commits a crime he views as merely a mistake, he rapidly transforms from a confident power player to a fearful complainer, making one believe a switch has been flipped.

In “The Birdcage,” a remake of the 1978 French comedy “La Cage aux Folles,” Elaine May wrote the script and Mike Nichols directed. In this film, Hackman plays Kevin Keeley, a cunning Republican senator and vice-president of the Society for Moral Order. During a tight election campaign, Senator Keeley is tricked by his own daughter and future son-in-law who convince one of the same-sex parents to dress up as a woman to make the wedding acceptable to the senator and his wife. This is one of Hackman’s best comedic performances since playing Lex Luthor in the Superman series, showcasing his talent for portraying innocence. It’s fitting and amusingly predictable that Keeley would end up dressed as Barbara Bush at a Miami nightclub to avoid reporters, but what elevates the visual joke is Hackman’s nuanced depiction of a man surprised by his openness to new experiences. “No one will dance with me,” laments the senator, with a wistful gaze. “I think it’s this dress. I told them white would make me look fat.

One year following “The Birdcage”, Hackman portrayed the President of the United States in Clint Eastwood’s suspenseful film, “Absolute Power“. This story revolves around an aging burglar who unwittingly breaks into a billionaire’s mansion on a fateful night when the president is attempting to seduce the billionaire’s young wife. The president is depicted as a self-centered and domineering misogynist, who resorts to violence towards his date when she resists him. In the aftermath of the violent confrontation, the Secret Service intervenes, resulting in fatalities. Hackman’s response as the dust settles is just as chilling as his previous portrayals of powerful yet morally compromised characters. The character embodies the arrogance displayed by Brice in “No Way Out” and the detachment from normal human behavior showcased in “The Birdcage”, but with a level of darkness that could fit seamlessly into a David Lynch production exploring dark forces corrupting humans. Hackman’s performance is both repulsive and terrifying, yet he maintains a striking resemblance to his other Washingtonian roles. It’s remarkable how an actor who seldom changes physically can transform so convincingly, reminding us that the essence of acting lies in pretense. If you can captivate your audience enough to convince them of anything — as Hackman did — all you need to do is step onto the stage and declare, “Here I am on a surfboard in the ocean”, allowing viewers to imagine the crashing waves.

https://youtube.com/watch?v=watch?v=KfN3Xhy0hQk

In the politically related genre films No Way Out, The Birdcage, and Absolute Power, Gene Hackman brilliantly demonstrates a unique acting technique, which we could call the Gene Hackman Principle of Transformative Acting. Despite looking exactly the same in all three movies with his suits and ties, his characters are completely different each time. If you watch them one after another without knowing the plots ahead of time, you wouldn’t be able to predict what Hackman’s character would do next because every new role was a chance for him to make the familiar feel fresh. The character Royal Tenenbaum from the movie summed up this creative unpredictability in the “Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard” montage, where he tells his grandchildren that he’s not talking about dancing lessons, but rather about breaking windows or causing trouble: “I’m not talking about dance classes! I’m talking about throwing a brick through someone else’s car window. I’m talking about taking it out and smashing it!

In a rare public appearance, Hackman appeared self-aware. He seldom granted interviews, but when he did, he openly acknowledged that his unyielding determination played a significant role in his achievements. This tenacity was not unfamiliar to audiences, as it often shone through in his film characters. Speaking with Vanity Fair, Hackman recounted an early experience that fueled his ambition. A former Marine who had witnessed one of Hackman’s initial stage performances mocked his brief stint as a bellhop. “I wasn’t going to let those critics get me down,” he said. “I made up my mind to keep pushing for opportunities. It was almost like a battle between me and them, and in some ways, unfortunately, that mentality still lingers. But if you truly love acting, there’s a part of you that thrives on the challenge.

He truly enjoyed it, and what made it even more delightful was the therapeutic sensation of perfecting the dialogues, the acts, the character, the art. Hackman excelled in every financial bracket, aesthetic style, narrative genre, and era throughout his acting career. He was an unparalleled talent, breaking down any presumptuousness that directors and co-actors might’ve brought into a production. Yet, he was also versatile – the kind of dependable, multi-purpose performer who could resolve casting and storyline issues just by appearing, transforming fleeting scenes into legendary moments (for instance, in another Nichols comedy titled “Postcards From the Edge“, where he portrayed the most compassionate, balanced, polite, loyal Hollywood blockbuster director ever depicted on screen, with such finesse that one could almost believe such a figure might exist).

After surpassing the age of 70, Hackman chose to step away from acting on multiple occasions, eventually making a permanent retirement following the release of the 2003 comedy “Welcome to Mooseport”. By the conclusion of his personal journey, there was no more for him to demonstrate, even as a versatile artist (he developed a secondary profession by penning and co-writing respected western and adventure novels with heroic, straightforward good guys; despicable villains; and resilient mothers and children). His enigmatic departure, following years of seclusion from the public spotlight, was unusually shrouded in mystery.

Reflecting on the final moments of an actor’s career, it’s hard not to recall some unforgettable death scenes. Hackman had quite a few standout performances, so his list would be far from brief. Some memorable instances include the priest’s self-immolation in The Poseidon Adventure (a moment of silence as the audience ponders the depth of his sacrifice before he falls into a blaze); Herod’s death by gunfire in The Quick and the Dead (he’s so taken aback by being shot in the chest that he gives the heroine the chance to end him with a shot to the eye); and Bill Daggett’s gasping, vacant-eyed farewell in Unforgiven (“I don’t deserve this kind of death; I was building a house!”). Even in death, Hackman managed to be alive. It’s enough to bring a smile to your face.

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2025-02-28 00:58