Gene Hackman, THE FRENCH CONNECTION and how it happened (Part II)

Gene Hackman had no illusions about THE FRENCH CONNECTION script when he first read it. It was an actioner, with a decent plot and potentially exciting scenes and a couple of surprise twists. He didn't see much room for character development or scenes of nuance at which he was adept at playing. If anything got his motor running, it was the tough-guy dialogue that reminded him of an old James Cagney movie, and Hackman was definitely an admirer of Cagney. He'd never played one of these before, and there was the added benefit of showing off his athleticism in the running, jumping over fences and fist-fighting that the script called for. This wouldn't be hard, so Hackman thought. Until he met Eddie Egan.

Hackman had lived in New York in the 1950's and 60's, studied acting with George Morrison, took classes at the Art Students League and got some plum work on TV ("That Was The Week That Was," "East Side/West Side," etc.) and starred on Broadway with Sandy Dennis in "Any Wednesday." When he moved his family to Los Angeles in the mid-60's, New York became a memory. Good-bye to one-room cold water flats, steamy summers and dreary winters. Work was better paying in L.A., and as much as New York satisfied his creative juices, Hackman had a family to feed.

When Hackman met Eddie Egan in November, 1971, his image of how he envisioned Popeye Doyle came crashing into the reality of the man the character was based on. The scripted Doyle said a lot of bad words and used the occasional ethnic slur, but Egan was a non-stop racist, hard-drinker and all around shallow guy ("I drink beer, break heads, and *beep* broads," was his credo). Hackman could hardly believe it, but the screenplay was actually a nicified version of the tough-talking detective. Even Egan's fellow detectives had little good to say about him. As offensive as Egan was, even more offensive were the two weeks Hackman and Roy Scheider spent with Egan and no longer partner, Sonny Grosso, on nightly patrols through the streets of Harlem, soaking up the atmosphere and training for their respective roles. Watching the detectives fearlessly wade into a crowd of tougher-than-heck African American hustlers and drug dealers and talk smack, or barging into a shooting gallery where heroin junkies were sprawled across basement floors with needles in their arms, thighs and every other part of their anatomy, with on one occasion, a just-born infant sleeping in a junkie mother's arms, made the liberal Hackman and Scheider blanch. This was the New York Hackman had read about, knew existed, but was now seeing first hand. And to top it off, here he was, right back where he started, in a tenement walk-up in the Big Apple in dreary, freezing winter.

Hackman must have wondered what he signed up for, but he was also smart enough to know that a story like this had never been told on film before, and he was glad and lucky to be a part of it. When he talked to director, William Friedkin, about perhaps adding some humanizing character touches to Popeye, Friedkin waved him off. What Hackman found offensive in Eddie Egan was exactly what Friedkin found fascinating and was trying to convey on film. Popeye Doyle, in any other movie, would have been colorful supporting part (think Officer Krupke in WEST SIDE STORY or Detective Kello in THE SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS), but this time, the brutal cop was the front of the show, and somehow Hackman had to make the audience identify with him if the film had any chance of success. Something his director wasn't willing to help him with and something he would not find in Eddie Egan.

The first day of shooting the film has gained something of a legendary status. Friedkin claims they did thirty or more takes of Hackman and Scheider roughing up Alan Weeks in the back of a police squad car. It didn't click. It wasn't Scheider's fault, it wasn't Weeks' fault. The fault laid squarely with Hackman. He was having trouble delivering his lines with authority, and he knew it. Worst of all, there was Egan on the sidelines critiquing the actor's performance. It was all unbearable. Hackman thought he might quit, and the next morning told Friedkin about his doubts about playing Egan. He told the director how much he hated authority figures, and Egan wasn't just an authority figure, he was an abusive one. Friedkin later wrote that neither he nor Hackman benefited from the conversation, it was just an airing of grievances. But something was indeed said that I think turned the key for Hackman. He described to his director how when he was a doorman at the old Howard Johnson Hotel in the 1950's, his old Marine sergeant walked by him, and seeing his old charge in a hotel doorman's uniform, said words to the effect: "Hackman, you're still a sorry son of a bitch." From Hackman's own account, this was the nadir of his life and the point at which he determined to reverse his fortunes.

But the story must have also un-locked the door to Hackman's current dilemma. In remembering his old Sarge, he found the key to playing the role of Popeye Doyle. He couldn't mimic Eddie Egan, but he realized he could play a convincing Marine drill instructor, and that's who bursts into Roy's bar and roars to the crowd, "Popeye's here!" in the film's famous drug raid. Popeye Doyle became 50% Eddie Egan/50% Marine drill instructor.

In fact, it's more than likely that Hackman's stumbling block on the first day of shooting was in his attempt to sound like Eddie Egan. Hackman, who's pretty convincing with Southern dialects and even managed a Polish accent for A BRIDGE TOO FAR, could not sustain the "dese, dem, doze" low-rent New York-ese that Egan spewed, but shouted military cadence was familiar to the actor.

The other thing Hackman came to appreciate was that Egan had an indefatigable work ethic, and that was where he would find the audience's sympathy. Doyle may be a brute and a racist, but he also works too hard, gets tired, cold and hungry like everyone else. Put a hat on him, shave off part of his eyebrow, add a five o'clock shadow and there you have it, masterpiece complete.