The minute that Gene Hackman walks into the brothel in the 1992 Neo-Western Unforgiven, he's so casually evil that you want to spit phlegm at him to the screen from your couch. It's a particular role too, since the movie regards the previous iterations of Westerns as false. Unforgiven is about how all the outlaws of the past were no-good liars, that this is a no-good way of life. Clint Eastwood's William Munny is an alcoholic, wrestles with his pigs in the mud because he could no longer stand the pain from his exploits. But, it is Hackman --- who died in his Sante Fe home this Thursday morning -- who most understood the bleak vision that Eastwood is projecting to us. Sheriff Little Bill, his character in Unforgiven, was a keeper of sadism, a keeper of that bleakness that Eastwood conveys. Where the sheriffs of the myth that you read would be righteous veterans respected for their sincere integrity, or big defenders of justice, Little Bill is a gang in the way policemen are in didactic urban movies. When he needs to be empathetic, he is cavalier, letting the men who abuse the lovely prostitute in the beginning of the movie leave without any repercussions. When he is needs to be fair, he is sadistic; to him, vigilantes are one thing: villains here to take the shine away from him in his small-town that he runs for the sake of his ego. Hackman is shiveringly good as Little Bill; it's my favorite role from him in a career full of dynamic screen performances that have captured the rot of American life. You get the point that there is no point to any of what Bill is doing besides his own egocentrism. He finds vigilantes bad, not because it is amoral, but rather because they get the credit and not him. Popeye Doyle, for all of his tenacity, has a twisted sense of justice and what the police can do. The nastiness he conveys in his service of a conspiracy that goes beyond anything what Doyle can defeat -- yet, he can't help but continue the imperial march for his own ego. When you look at television cops like Jimmy McNulty or Vic Mackey, you see Hackman's portrayal of Doyle, and his Captain Ahab-like drive to be lower than the criminals he is chasing.
I was nervous to write about Hackman, that's why I took so long to complete this blog. I didn't know what to write about, what performance to highlight, or how to start it. He's lived a monumental, complete life that brought a presence which changed the way audiences viewed actors. He wasn't a movie star in the way that Jimmy Stewart, Cary Grant, or even James Cagney was, but he was not a underrated character actor. Instead, his definition would be "a screen presence" --- a word used for an actor who is always the key component of the movie regardless of what his screen time is. He was both Popeye Doyle and the best of an ensemble cast, like he was in Wes Anderson's The Royal Tenebaums. He was great as Denzel's antagonist in Crimson Tide, as a ruthless meat boss in Prime Cut. Those roles suggested a brilliance that was unpretentious but intelligent.
I would be remiss if I didn't bring up that performance as the Tenebaum family patriarch. His old man period was awesome -- he felt like a hired gun for a baseball team every free agency period, like he signed one year deals with every famous director on the planet --- and Royal Tenebaums is a prominent character in Anderson's filmography for his joy, irresponsibility, racism, unique humor, yet there is an underlying humanity that sets him apart from the other deadbeats. When Ben Stiller's Chas says "I've had a rough year, Dad." Hackman, in a line reading that is a caption for the wonders of friendship, empathy, and understanding says, "I know you have, Chassie." Cinema can really be unsettlingly pertinent, and that Hackman role is as good as a string part of a grilled cheese sandwich.