Sui Generis

If Katharine Hepburn is the greatest actress in the history of American movies -- and I believe she is -- then AUDREY Hepburn is the greatest movie STAR. Her personal charm enlivened and enriched every movie in which she appeared. This is one of Philippe Halsman's series of "jumping photos." Halsman's idea was to capture and reveal his subjects' essential character through the jump. Audrey's portrait is emblematic of the joy and spirit of this adorable, sprightly woman. Just compare this to Halsman's photo of Richard Nixon. No two human beings could be less alike.

Halsman's Nixon portrait says everything about the man. The then-Vice President's constipated persona is more than obvious. Note too the sick attempt to look as though he's enjoying the experience. Nixon's constricted smile (often an automated after-thought) was as haunted and chilling as George W. Bush's nervous, wheezing laugh.

My favorite actor. When I heard the news of Jack Lemmon's death over the radio I felt as though someone had punched me in the gut. The movie generation after my own thinks of him only as comedian. They've never seen, or don't know about, Lemmon's incredible balancing act between farceur and tragedian in "The Apartment"; his searing portrait of an alcoholic in "Days of Wine and Roses"; his deeply moving depiction of a businessman at the far end of hope in "Save the Tiger"; his heart-breaking performance as a conservative American confronted with the agonizing truth of his government's complicity in the death of his son in "Missing"; or his devastating turn as a salesman experiencing the slow death of the soul in "Glengarry Glen Ross." There are two absolutely harrowing sequences in "Days of Wine and Roses" that prove beyond conjecture Jack Lemmon's mastery of his craft and the absolute reality he could bring to a role. In the first, he destroys his father-in-law's greenhouse in search of a hidden bottle of booze; his reaction to taking that first, desperately needed swig lies somewhere between a burst of laughter and a whinge of despair. In the second, deep into the D.T.s, he's restrained in a straight-jacket and given a claming narcotic. It's so dramatic you almost can't watch, yet can't tear your eyes away from it. Blake Edwards, the writer-director of the movie, said he'd never before or since seen an actor give more than 100 per cent in that way. The comic turns are, of course, cherishable: His sublime Daphne in "Some Like it Hot" -- arguably the greatest comedy performance in sound movies; his wildly, wonderfully over-the-top Professor Fate in "The Great Race"; his definitive Felix Unger in "The Odd Couple." I still can't get used to the idea he's gone.

My second-favorite actor. When I was 18 or 19, a dear friend said I reminded her of a cross between Roy Scheider and Roddy McDowall. I don't think anyone's said anything nicer to me since.

The world's greatest living actress. The polarizing effect of Vanessa Redgrave's misunderstood (and, admittedly, ill-advised) Academy Award acceptance speech has obscured the public perception of her brilliance. She was always a superb artist, but in the last few years she has become the most spiritual performer on the screen. She's both earthy and somehow ethereal; it's as though we're seeing the essence of her rather than the corporeal reality. This photo, which was used to promote her performance in a late-60s bio-movie of Isadora Duncan, also shows what an astonishing beauty she was then. In every way, she still is.

The great Gore Vidal. I met him at a press conference for the Duke University-sponsored staged reading of his splendid play "On the March to the Sea." He was graciousness itself, and signed my copies of "Palimpsest" and "United States." He invited me to sit and chat with him, but I was too over-awed by meeting God, and murmured that I didn't wish to bother him. I will probably regret that for the rest of my life.