Oh, this is sad.

Not just because of the nature of the deaths (the PUP as well? ugh!!). Hackman may not have been as big a star as the other brooding New Hollywood icons (Nicholson, De Niro, Pacino, et al.), but he could hold his own against all of them. People will point to the Oscars for
The French Connection (meh) and
Unforgiven (less meh, and at least he's great in it), but I suspect it's his differing contributions to
The Conversation and
The Royal Tenenbaums that'll endure best and speak to the breadth of his talent: brilliantly unravelling the turmoil of a complex character in the Coppola, and wryly shading in the quirks of a less complex character amidst Anderson's shtick. I also really liked him in the forgotten
Scarecrow - one of those seemingly unremarkable 70s indie dramas that's boosted by great perfs (young Al Pacino is a superb co-star). It's Pacino who has the scene which really stuck with me, but I recall identifying strongly with both these drifters-tryna-make-good and Hackman did a wonderful job of gradually unmasking the human behind all the misplaced machismo. What a great career, and 95 is a good innings. Salute.
(...but again, why the PUP!!!

)