Remembering an acting powerhouse – Firstpost

Gene Hackman, one of the most formidable actors to ever grace the silver screen, has passed away at the age of 95, alongside his wife, classical pianist Betsy Arakawa, in their Santa Fe, New Mexico home. The Santa Fe County Sheriff confirmed their deaths, stating that no signs of foul play were found. With Hackman’s passing, the world has lost an artist whose performances were defined by an unrelenting commitment to authenticity, subtlety, and sheer force of presence.

While not often spoken of in the same breath as Robert De Niro or Al Pacino, Hackman’s brilliance was uniquely his own. His ability to disappear into a role, to inhabit a character so completely that the audience ceased to see the actor, was unparalleled. Unlike the overt showmanship of some of his contemporaries, Hackman brought an understated intensity to his roles, making him one of the most versatile actors in American cinema. His work spanned more than four decades, during which he delivered unforgettable performances in films such as The French Connection, The Conversation, Bonnie and Clyde, Unforgiven, and Mississippi Burning, among many others.

Born Eugene Allen Hackman in 1930 in San Bernardino, California, he grew up in Danville, Illinois. His path to Hollywood was far from conventional. After dropping out of high school, he enlisted in the Marine Corps at 16, lying about his age to join. Following his service, he pursued journalism and radio work, but the dream of acting persisted.

Like so many before him, Hackman struggled in the early years, often finding himself in the company of other aspiring actors, including Dustin Hoffman and Robert Duvall, both of whom shared his relentless drive and refusal to conform to Hollywood’s norms. The trio, once struggling together in New York, would later become legends in their own right. Hackman trained at the Pasadena Playhouse while working at a Howard Johnson’s restaurant to financially support himself. He was initially told he lacked the talent to make it in the industry. Rather than being discouraged, he used rejection as fuel.

Hackman’s breakthrough came with Bonnie and Clyde (1967), where his portrayal of Buck Barrow, the older brother of Warren Beatty’s Clyde, earned him his first Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor. His ability to play rugged, flawed men with depth and conviction became his trademark.

Then came The French Connection (1971), where Hackman delivered a performance for the ages as Jimmy “Popeye” Doyle, a morally ambiguous, hard-nosed detective obsessed with catching a heroin smuggler. With his receding hairline and gruff demeanor, he was far removed from the traditional Hollywood leading man. Yet, his performance, particularly in the film’s legendary chase scene, was so electrifying that it secured him his first Academy Award for Best Actor and cemented his place as one of the greatest of his generation.

Hackman followed it up with The Conversation (1974), playing Harry Caul, a surveillance expert consumed by paranoia. The role demanded restraint and subtlety, and Hackman delivered one of his most haunting performances. Unlike the fiery Popeye Doyle, Caul was introverted, a man trapped in his own mind. His final scene, playing the saxophone alone in his wrecked apartment, remains one of cinema’s most quietly devastating moments.

What set Hackman apart was his astonishing range. In Scarecrow (1973), he held his own against a young Al Pacino, playing a drifter with a tragic past. Few actors could outshine Pacino in his prime, but Hackman did just that.

In Night Moves (1975), he played private detective Harry Moseby, a role that channeled the spirit of Humphrey Bogart and Robert Mitchum but with Hackman’s own distinct gravitas. The film, a neo-noir masterpiece with one of the most jaw-dropping climaxes, showcased his ability to portray men haunted by their own choices.

Then came Superman (1978), where he took on the role of the iconic villain Lex Luthor. With his sharp wit and magnetic presence, Hackman turned the character into one of the most memorable antagonists in comic book film history—defining and personifying comic book supervillainy.

As the years passed, he continued to deliver powerhouse performances. Mississippi Burning (1988) saw him play a hardened FBI agent investigating the murder of civil rights activists in the segregated South. In Crimson Tide (1995), his steely command as a submarine captain clashing with Denzel Washington was nothing short of riveting.

In Wes Anderson’s family saga The Royal Tenenbaums, Hackman once again surprised everyone with his remarkable ability to transform. “Mr. Hackman is an actor of such explosive inventiveness that no mannerisms can contain his amazing ability to register belligerence, tenderness, confusion, and guile within the space of a few lines of dialogue. You never know where he’s going, but it always turns out to be exactly the right place,” a critic wrote of Hackman’s turn in the film. And in Runaway Jury (2003), Hackman once again reminded audiences of his mastery over sharp, biting dialogue.

One of Hackman’s most iconic roles came in Unforgiven (1992), Clint Eastwood’s revisionist Western that won four Academy Awards, including Best Picture. As Little Bill Daggett, a brutal yet strangely principled sheriff, Hackman created a character as compelling as he was terrifying. His scenes with Eastwood, particularly their two explosive encounters, are masterclasses in acting. In one, he dominates; in the other, he is utterly helpless. His final moments—pleading for his life before accepting his fate—are a testament to his ability to evoke both menace and vulnerability in a single breath.

It was a performance that won him his second Oscar, this time for Best Supporting Actor. His ability to make a villain both monstrous and deeply human is what made Little Bill unforgettable.

In 2004, after a career spanning more than 80 films, Hackman quietly retired from acting. Unlike many of his peers who continued working well into old age, he chose to step away while still at the top of his game. His final film, Welcome to Mooseport, was an unremarkable comedy, but Hackman’s decision to retire felt in line with his nature—unpretentious and without spectacle. He retreated to a quieter life in New Mexico. Though he remained largely out of the public eye, his presence in cinema remained as potent as ever.

With Hackman’s passing, cinema has lost one of its true greats. He was an actor’s actor—never flashy, never interested in celebrity, but always delivering performances of extraordinary depth and nuance. His characters were not just roles; they were living, breathing individuals who left an indelible mark on audiences.

His influence can be seen in generations of actors who followed, from Denzel Washington to Daniel Day-Lewis. He proved that a leading man didn’t need to be conventionally handsome or overtly charismatic; what mattered was the ability to embody a character fully and truthfully.

As tributes pour in, one thing is certain: Gene Hackman’s legacy is eternal. He may be gone, but his performances will continue to captivate, challenge, and inspire as long as cinema endures.

The author is an Indian critic and journalist who has served as a jury member for the 69th and 70th National Film Awards. He has been covering cinema, art and culture for the last decade and a half. Views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the writer. They do not necessarily reflect Firstpost’s views.