Robert De Niro is – as Bananarama so acutely observed – waiting. He has dogged my waking moments these past four months, ever since GQ Editor Dylan Jones kindly asked me to watch all his films and report back. De Niro has made – give or take the odd cameo – 100 movies.
He’s got a birthday coming up – his 77th. I was in lockdown. The stars were aligned. The curtains were drawn.
But let’s be clear: this was no hardship. For me – and I’d wager for most moviegoers of my generation – De Niro is the greatest. Not was. Is. My coming-of-age coincided with his arrival on the scene in Hollywood.
Not only did he star in an extended run of unforgettable films, but he dominated them with a new kind of performance that took method acting to previously uncharted levels.
He got a New York cab license as Taxi Driver, learned Italian and lived in Sicily to prepare for The Godfather Part II, put on 60lbs to play Jake La Motta in Raging Bull, learned the Latin mass for True Confessions and the sax for New York, New York. He was the hardest-working man in Hollywood.
In a rare insight to his working methods, he once said, “My joy as an actor is to live different lives without risking the real-life consequences.”
Guided by this simple principle, De Niro has lasted the course and starred in more classic films than any other actor alive and, therefore, Robert De Niro is not just on my list, he’s top of it.
