I like to think of these incredible performers as human beings first; subject to the same intangible rules which apply to us all in the twilight of our best years. That which restrain us as the many: the metaphysical shift of our being due to the panicky and anxiety-laden assaults of aging and time.
Certainly, we'd all like to head out of our careers in enchanted glory, like the premise of so many of the stories we adore and celebrate on this very website. But how odd would it be to witness all of our actors going out or taking their final curtain call in complete perfection, of course to appease our lofty expectations as a greedy and spoiled audience.
When one gives half a century of their time in the pursuit of entertaining and giving light to the lives of a pretentious audience only to be judged for a slight misstep to the left in the closing chapter?
It would appear that the man chose the perfect way to exit. Mr. Hackman hated and hates the politics, viciousness and shallowness of TinselTown. He knew it would be a typical response for fans to whine about a plot of insignificance, instead of celebrating the genius of his life's work.
For every brilliant theory that Albert Einstein brought forth, he had hundreds of admitted failures. We tend to associate him with his highly substantial theory of special relativity. Not the two dozen *beep* ups which lead to it, or many of the dustbins which came after.
Gene Hackman could have done a dozen Mooseports in the end. His worst movies surpass half of the crap which purports to be a good movie today.
Keep the faith, Mr. Hackman and thank you for your dedication in keeping the idle entertained.
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