Presence, Power, and the Smell of Napalm

RIP Robert Duvall (1931 - 2026)

Robert Duvall has passed away at 95, and it feels like the lights have dimmed on a certain kind of American filmmaking. He belonged to a generation that didn’t chase attention; they commanded it. He had that rare authority that settled a scene the moment he entered it, shoulders squared, eyes watchful, voice measured and dangerous when required.

In Apocalypse Now he gave us Kilgore, cavalry hat fixed against the madness, delivering the line about the smell of napalm in the morning with a grin that chilled the blood. It was theatre and truth in the same breath. The line became legend, but it worked because he believed every syllable.

As Tom Hagen in The Godfather and The Godfather Part II he was the still centre of a violent world, the consigliere whose loyalty had weight. Earlier still, he was Boo Radley in To Kill a Mockingbird, almost wordless, yet unforgettable. Few actors could say so much with so little.

There was the Oscar for Tender Mercies, richly deserved, and decades of performances that felt lived rather than performed. Even in in my home town, turning up at Stark’s Park, Kirkcaldy, while preparing for A Shot at Glory, studying the bark and bluster of lower league football, accent uncertain but effort genuine, he immersed himself fully. He respected the craft, whether the stage was Broadway, Hollywood, or Fife.

Seven Academy Award nominations, one win, and a catalogue that spans half a century. He never begged for applause. He earned it. One of my favourites, always. Cinema feels leaner tonight.