Robert Berkvist on the tragic death of Gene Hackman and his wife, Betsy Arakawa, for the New York Times:

Gene Hackman, who never fit the mold of a Hollywood movie star but became one all the same, playing seemingly ordinary characters with deceptive subtlety, intensity and often charm in some of the most noted films of the 1970s and '80s, has died, the authorities in New Mexico said on Thursday. He was 95.

Mr. Hackman and his wife were found dead on Wednesday afternoon at the home in Santa Fe., N.M., where they had been living, according to a statement from the Santa Fe County Sheriff's Department. The cause of death was unclear and under investigation. Sheriff's deputies found the bodies of Mr. Hackman; his wife, Betsy Arakawa; and a dog, according to the statement, which said that foul play was not suspected.

It’s one level of grief when a celebrity with the stature of Gene Hackman dies. It’s even more tragic when a loved one dies too.

When I learned of Hackman’s death, two movies came immediately to mind: Superman^[1] and Enemy of the State. Probably not the first two films most people think of, but I came late to most of his work.

Hackman, it turns out, was a significant part of my classic films self-education—movies released “before my time”—but I didn’t realize as I watched them that they were Hackman classics; they were just classics: The French Connection, The Poseidon Adventure, even Young Frankenstein (which, until now, I never realized he was in).

(I saw The Royal Tenenbaums, but that movie occupies the “WTF did I just watch” spot in my brain, so I don’t recall most of it.)

Most of his other iconic movies—Bonnie and Clyde, Hoosiers, Mississippi Burning—remain on my “to watch” list.

That list will be getting a workout over the next few weeks.

Awful news today (via Variety):

She was found unconscious and unresponsive Wednesday in her Manhattan apartment, according to the New York City police department. According to the New York Post, which first reported the news, she had recently undergone a liver transplant. Trachtenberg’s cause of death has not been confirmed, but the NYPD said criminality was not suspected.

I’m heartbroken. I loved her in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She was a crucial part of what made Season 5 special. She was the perfect “annoying little sister” while remaining deeply charming and lovable. Her introduction in that season may be the most successful execution of a Cousin Oliver. Like many fans, I consider the season to be one of the show’s strongest, due in large part to her character and her ebullient performance. Perhaps because of that character, I’ve always felt she was an old soul. At 39, she’s left us far too soon.

Tributes are starting to pour in from her coworkers, and they’re agonizing.

Giovanni Russonello for the New York Times on Roberta Flack’s resplendent voice:

Critics often struggled to describe the understated strength of her voice, and the breadth of her stylistic range. In its poise, its interiority and conviction, its lack of sentimentality or overstatement, her singing seemed to press the reset button on any standard expectations of a pop star. She placed equal priority on passion and clear communication—like an instructor speaking to an inquisitive student, or a lover pledging devotion.

“I’ve been told I sound like Nina Simone, Nancy Wilson, Odetta, Barbra Streisand, Dionne Warwick, even Mahalia Jackson,” Ms. Flack told The New York Times in 1970. “If everybody said I sounded like one person, I’d worry. But when they say I sound like them all, I know I’ve got my own style.”

Where Is the Love is a gorgeous jewel of a song, while Killing Me Softly With His Song remains an indelible part of my ’70s soundtrack. (Though I now can’t hear the opening phrasing without the Fugees’ sitar interlude^[1] popping in. Their cover is a testimonial to the song’s staying power.)

I wasn’t aware Flack was also a gifted and classically trained pianist:

Sitting on her mother Irene’s lap while Irene played piano and organ at their Methodist church, Flack began to tinker herself, then to properly play, demonstrating a prodigy-grade prowess as a young child that those around her clambered to support.

A Sunday-school teacher paid for Flack to take lessons. Flack’s father, Laron, brought home a ramshackle upright piano from a junkyard, which the family restored and painted green. By age 9, Flack was playing Chopin nocturnes, crying at the keyboard because the music moved her so powerfully. At 13, she accompanied her church’s choir on Handel’s “Messiah.” […]

At the time, America didn’t necessarily expect a Black child to master Verdi or Bach, and wasn’t always open to having its expectations upended. Flack would often recall skillfully performing a Scarlatti sonata in a statewide competition as a teenager, only to come in second in the segregated “Negro division”; Scarlatti, she gathered, wasn’t what the judges wanted from someone like her.

(From Jon Mooallem’s piece in The Wall Street Journal (Apple News+), which opens with a stunningly emotive lede.)

The New York Times piece has more on that competition:

At 13, Ms. Flack won second place in a statewide competition for Black students after performing a Scarlatti sonata; she was convinced that she had deserved the main prize and that the judges were thrown off by the sight of a Black girl playing classical music with such command. Just two years later, she entered Howard University on a full scholarship. She became the first undergraduate vocal student to give a public recital in classical vocal literature, and she conducted a student production of “Aida” that drew a standing ovation from Howard’s music faculty.

But a dean warned that the opportunities in classical orchestras would be scarce for a Black woman, advising Ms. Flack to pursue a teaching career. Upon graduating, she started working toward a master’s degree in music education.

A mixture of reactions here: delighted we were blessed with her voice; disappointed that we missed out on her classical piano virtuosity; disquieted the dean was almost certainly right in their assessment then; and disheartened that assessment may remain valid today.

Flack died of cardiac arrest, and was diagnosed with ALS in 2022. My usual donations to American Heart Association and ALS Association will be supplemented today in her honor.

The unfortunate news was shared on his Mastodon account:

Martin passed away yesterday, peacefully in his sleep. He was a true fighter until the bitter end but he is now pain free and at peace.

Fuck—and I mean this sincerely—cancer.

I didn’t know “Pilky” personally and wasn’t aware of his battles with cancer, but he—or rather, his work—was well known to me, and within Apple. Not for his software; for his other claim-to-fame: Fix Radar or GTFO.

If you’re unfamiliar with Fix Radar or GTFO, The Next Web explained its genesis shortly after it launched in 2012. Briefly, it was a plea from Pilkington to Apple to improve its Bug Reporter tool and process, itself submitted in the form of a bug report (and online petition)—with a request to other developers to file their own copy of that bug report.

I’ll save stories of the broader impact of his petition—and my and others’ attempts to improve the bug reporting experience over the years—for another post, and note only this:

Soon after that first bug report, there were dozens, then hundreds more. Some of the bugs were actual duplicates, following Pilkington’s guidelines. Others were dupes in spirit, with unique… requests. A surprising amount were angry, vitriolic rants that challenged the team’s equanimity as they parsed out the actionable bits from the hate.

It was a veritable deluge, catching us all by surprise, and sparking hundreds of rock tumbler debates.

Some six or seven years after that first report, I inherited the WWDR bug screening team, and they were still feeling the reverberations of that bug. By the time I left Apple in 2023, I estimate it had well over a thousand duplicates, near duplicates, and related complaints. 

One visible result of Pilkington’s pleas came in 2019 when Feedback Assistant replaced Bug Reporter—an attempt to address several of the issues he’d raised, to varying degrees of success.

“Pilky” took a principled stance, and I respect him for it. He cared enough to take action and galvanized hundreds of developers to stand with him in advocating for a better developer experience. He left his mark, and his influence endures.

I wish him and his loved ones peace.

Todd Rosiak, Milwaukee Journal Sentinel:

Milwaukee Brewers radio broadcasts will, sadly, never sound the same.

Bob Uecker, the voice of the team on the airwaves for 54 years, a Baseball Hall of Famer and local, statewide and national icon, died Thursday, the Brewers announced.

He was 90 years old.

I didn’t listen to many Brewers games growing up in New York (they were in the American League then, and I was a National League fan), but I still knew Bob Uecker. Ueck was a part of my baseball adolescence. As the Brewers’ team statement notes:

He was so much more than a Milwaukee Brewers icon. He was a national treasure. Bob entertained us with his words and storytelling, so it is no surprise that his passing now leaves us at a loss for our own words.

Fifty-four years broadcasting the sport, Miller Lite commercials, and Major League movies will do that. I’d also forgotten he starred in Mr. Belvedere for six seasons.

His voice and humor will be missed. A huge loss for baseball fans everywhere.

Enjoy the front row, Ueck.

See also:

• MLB
• The Athletic/New York Times

The Guardian:

Broadly unpopular then, Carter went on to become not just the longest-lived president but also to have one of the most distinguished post-presidential careers. He was awarded the Nobel peace prize for “decades of untiring effort” for human rights and peacemaking. His humanitarian work was conducted under the Atlanta-based Carter Center, which he founded in the early 1980s, with Rosalynn.

Jimmy Carter was the first president I was aware of, thanks to my grandmother, who thought him a kind man. I knew him best for his commitment to Habitat for Humanity. In the handful of instances I’ve seen him speak, he always seemed to have a twinkle in his eye. It certainly seemed to me like he enjoyed being a former president far more than being president. And it positively tickled me when he declared his intention to live long enough to vote for Kamala Harris—and then did so.

President Biden has ordered U.S. flags to be flown at half-staff for the next 30 days and declared January 9, 2025 a National Day of Mourning. I’m grateful President Carter will be honored in a state funeral led by a president respectful of both the office and the man.

Elsewhere:

• The New York Times

Greg Evans for Deadline:

John Amos, the actor whose characters in Good Times, Roots and The Mary Tyler Moore Show lent the 1970s a solid share of its too-few portrayals of strong Black male role models, died August 21 in Los Angeles of natural causes. He was 84.

His son, Kelly Christopher Amos said in a statement:

He was a man with the kindest heart and a heart of gold… and he was loved the world over. Many fans consider him their TV father.

Good Times was the first TV show I remember where there was an entire family that looked like me. Amos as James was my first TV dad. His—spoiler for a 48-year-old show—off-screen death in the fourth season was heartbreaking.

His good-natured, good guy vibe was—spoiler for a 34-year-old movie—a major reason the unexpected twist in Die Hard 2 landed so well.

And of course, I loved him in The West Wing as Admiral Fitzwallace, and his—spoiler for a 20-year-old episode—death in Season 5 gutted me.

He was also brilliantly funny in Coming to America, one of the best parts of the movie, and it was a real treat to see him guest in Psych as Uncle Burton.

I’ll be queuing up a few episodes of television in his honor.

See also: L.A. Times.

Adam B. Vary and Carmel Dagan for Variety:

James Earl Jones, the prolific film, TV and theater actor whose resonant, unmistakable baritone was most widely known as the voice of "Star Wars" villain Darth Vader, died Monday morning at his home in Dutchess County, N.Y., his rep confirmed to Variety. He was 93.

Jones was a mainstay of my generation’s entertainment landscape. Star Wars, Coming to America, Field of Dreams, The Lion King… He brought gravitas and warmth to every role he played, even if it was “just” with his voice.

But oh, that voice! Powerful, majestic, authoritative, and unmistakable. I’ve been trying to imitate it since I was a kid. From “Commander, tear this ship apart until you’ve found those plans!” to “The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball” to “This is CNN.”

(It wouldn’t surprise me if “This is CNN” is among the most recognizable “spoken audio logo” in history, the closest competition likely being “You’ve Got Mail!” and “This is Audible.”)

Jones always struck me as a regular guy who just happened to be a world famous actor. He never seemed to take himself too seriously, including his willingness to do random guest appearances and silly cameos on sitcoms. (Frasier, Big Bang Theory, and Will & Grace come to mind.) He always seemed like an actor who wanted to work simply because he enjoyed the work. Nothing ever seemed beneath him, and he elevated everything he did.

I’m happy that he was so prolific; it gives us dozens of performances for us to remember him.

A personal anecdote: Sometime around 1988 or ’89, shortly after I started acting, my teacher/director commented after one of my monologues that I reminded him of James Earl Jones in August Wilson’s Fences. I was 19 or so, and the reference slid right past me, but it always stuck in my head. It was many years before I realized what a compliment that was.