#dianekeaton — Public Fediverse posts

Kaum ein anderer Film hat sein Jahrzehnt und wahrscheinlich sein ganzes Jahrhundert so geprägt, und kaum ein Ensemble das Kino so still revolutioniert, wie dieses Drama von Francis Ford Coppola. Ein Film, der längst zur politischen Mythologie US-Amerikas gehört. Doch jenseits des ikonischen Mafia-Schattenspiels, all der Zigarren und Pferdeköpfe, pulsiert ein leiseres, intimeres Drama… (ARD, Wh.)

Kaum ein anderer Film hat sein Jahrzehnt und wahrscheinlich sein ganzes Jahrhundert so geprägt, und kaum ein Ensemble das Kino so still revolutioniert, wie dieses Drama von Francis Ford Coppola. Ein Film, der längst zur politischen Mythologie US-Amerikas gehört. Doch jenseits des ikonischen Mafia-Schattenspiels, all der Zigarren und Pferdeköpfe, pulsiert ein leiseres, intimeres Drama… (3sat, Wh.)

#BehindTheScenes
#SomethingsGottaGive (2003)
A swinger on the cusp of being a senior citizen with a taste for young women falls in love with an accomplished woman closer to his age.

#JackNicholson #DianeKeaton discussing scene with Director #NancyMeyers (in black).

Rob Reiner’s Absence From New York Times “Lives They Lived” Explained; 2025 In Memoriam Featured Diane Keaton, Angie Stone & David Lynch
#News #Politics #AngieStone #BarackObama #Death #DianeKeaton #DonaldTrump #JaneGoodall #MartinScorsese #MegRyan #MicheleReiner #NewYorkTimes #NickReiner #RobReiner #WhenHarryMetSally

https://deadline.com/2025/12/rob-reiner-death-absence-new-york-times-tribute-1236657713/

Das war kein Triumphzug und auch keine späte Ehrenrunde einer großen Erzählung. Dieser Film war ein finaler Abschied, der sich geweigert hat, würdevoll zu sein. Ein Film, der genau gewusst hat, dass er zu spät kommt – und genau deshalb existiert. Coppola hat einen Mythos als Ruine seiner eigenen Geschichte zu Ende gebracht. Eine Welt aus totaler moralischer Erschöpfung. Wer diesen Film aber als „schwächsten Teil“ der Saga abtut, verkennt seine Funktion: Es ist der notwendige Epilog einer Geschichte, die nie ein Happy End verdient hat. (ARD, Wh.)

Kaum ein anderer Film hat sein Jahrzehnt und wahrscheinlich sein ganzes Jahrhundert so geprägt, und kaum ein Ensemble das Kino so still revolutioniert, wie dieses Drama von Francis Ford Coppola. Ein Film, der längst zur politischen Mythologie US-Amerikas gehört. Doch jenseits des ikonischen Mafia-Schattenspiels, all der Zigarren und Pferdeköpfe, pulsiert ein leiseres, intimeres Drama… (ARD, Wh.)

If anyone saw the Christmas movie “The Family Stone” (2005) starring Diane Keaton (1946-2025) during the last few days, here’s a YouTube clip with some hilarious bloopers.

TAGS: #TheFamilyStone #YouTube #dianekeaton #CraigTNelson #Hollywood #Film #Cinema #Movies #ClaireDanes #RachelMcAdams #SarahJessicaParker

URL: https://youtube.com/watch?v=OGaokJ3elqc&si=DMqX6bfUmen88_Uc

20 AÑOS DESPUÉS SE PONE EN MARCHA LA SECUELA DE UNA PELICULA PROTAGONIZADA POR DIANE KEATON.
https://nuevoimagenesdeactualidad.blogspot.com/2025/11/20-anos-despues-se-pone-en-marcha-la.html
#cine #cinema #dermotmulroney #dianekeaton #craigtnelson #lukewilson

Nancy Meyers to Miss Diane Keaton Sold-Out Tribute Screening of ‘Something’s Gotta Give’
#MovieNews #Movies #DianeKeaton #JackNicholson #KeanuReeves #NancyMeyers #Somethingsgottagive

https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-news/nancy-meyers-diane-keaton-tribute-somethings-gotta-give-1236428207/

Robert Redford, Diane Keaton and the Twilight of the Gods – The Hollywood Reporter

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• Movie Features

Redford, Keaton and the Twilight of the Gods

The recent deaths of the icons cast a mournful light on a fading generation of actors who once redefined what movie stars could be — complex, messy, and all too human.

October 22, 2025

There was a moment, back in 2012, when Diane Keaton and Robert Redford nearly shared the screen. Both were reported to be “eyeing” the leads in a holiday-themed ensemble comedy titled The Most Wonderful Time, pitched as a Love Actually-style pastiche involving multiple interwoven tales of family and romance, all set against a backdrop of Christmas lights and yuletide meltdowns.

Alas, that movie never got made — at least not in that form — and Keaton and Redford never again came so close to working together. But in their own ways, these two very different actors — she, the eccentric spirit of New Hollywood comedy; he, the golden-boy stoic of the American pastoral — were bound by something even more powerful than onscreen chemistry: generational gravity. They belonged to the same loose orbit of 1970s-era performers who upended the rules of stardom and helped reshape what American movies could be.

Keaton died Oct. 11 at age 79 after a shockingly quick battle with pneumonia. Redford died in his sleep, at 89, a little less than a month earlier, on Sept. 16. Some from their cohort had gone before — Paul Newman in 2008, Shelley Duvall in 2024, Gene Hackman in February — while others have simply drifted from view. Warren Beatty, Jack Nicholson, Dustin Hoffman, Faye Dunaway — all now in their 80s — have largely stepped away from the spotlight.

Of course, this is nothing new. All stars, even the brightest, eventually flicker out as new generations take their place. But there’s something different — something more poignant — about watching this particular circle begin to vanish.

The stars who came before them had been shaped by the studio system — groomed, styled and slotted into types. They signed long-term contracts, wore what the wardrobe department handed them and gave interviews ghostwritten by studio publicists. Even the greats — Bogart, Hepburn, Gable, Davis — were often playing variations of a persona the system had helped construct. Their power came from polish, execution and consistency. Stardom was a product, and it was carefully managed.

By the time Redford, Keaton, Beatty and the others were coming of age as actors, the old studio scaffolding was already coming apart, with the contract system unraveling and the great moguls who once ruled the town with an iron fist fading from the scene. There was no longer a press-office puppeteer telling actors how to dress or what to say, no studio image to protect. They were free to define themselves — onscreen and off — and to let those two identities blur. Their personas could be withholding, eccentric, neurotic, ambiguous, strange. They could play characters the previous generation never got near: complicated people with unresolved feelings and messy inner lives.

At the same time, a new kind of director had taken over the asylum — such mavericks as Mike Nichols, Robert Altman, Hal Ashby, Alan J. Pakula and Martin Scorsese — filmmakers who weren’t interested in preserving the system. They wanted to blow it up. Their films — Carnal Knowledge, McCabe & Mrs. Miller, Shampoo, Klute, Taxi Driver — didn’t just break the rules, they rewrote the language of cinema itself. And that reinvention gave this young, liberated generation of actors a canvas as unbound and unconventional as they were — a kind of free-spirited platform that hadn’t existed before and hasn’t really existed since.

Few actors made better use of that freedom than Redford and Keaton. In such films as The Candidate, Three Days of the Condor and The Way We Were, Redford turned the clean-cut leading man into something more introspective and morally uncertain — a figure torn between idealism and self-interest. Keaton took the same open, idiosyncratic presence that made Annie Hall so engaging and revealed its darker shades in The Godfather and Looking for Mr. Goodbar, proving she could be fearless, complex, even unsettling. Both found truth in contradiction. They made uncertainty look thrilling.

But by the early 1980s, as the counterculture spirit of the previous decade gave way to something more box office-driven and less tolerant of creative chaos, a different model of movie star started taking over. Actors weren’t seeking to challenge the system anymore; they were the system, powering tentpoles, sequels and high-concept hits that could sell in every corner of the world. This was the era of the Event Movie, when opening-weekend grosses became the new measure of stardom. The actors who began appearing on marquees — Schwarzenegger, Stallone, Willis, Gibson, Cruise — weren’t celebrated for subtlety or transformation or their onscreen bravery, but for their box office clout.

Sure, by the 1990s, there was a parallel indie movement where some of these stars could unfurl their dramatic range, ’70s-style — Cruise in Magnolia, Stallone in Cop Land — but for all the critical acclaim and Oscar attention those roles might attract, what defined success in 1980s and ’90s Hollywood were the ticket sales for such tentpoles as Top Gun, Die Hard, the Rambo movies and The Terminator. Actors had become commodities of scale, defined largely by their ability to summon $100 million grosses.

When the new millennium arrived, that equation shifted yet again, even if the focus on money hadn’t. Hollywood’s center of gravity moved from stars to franchises. The IP became the real draw — superheroes, wizards, Jedi and other branded worlds. The costume, often spandex, mattered more than the actor inside it (even Redford got in on the act, playing a Marvel villain in Captain America: The Winter Soldier). Stardom no longer was the engine of the movie business; it was just another interchangeable part of the business.

Then, in the 2010s and ’20s, stardom started moving from the big screen to a much smaller stage — the phone. Hollywood was still turning out superhero sagas, prestige dramas and cozy seasonal fare (like that Christmas movie, The Most Wonderful Time, eventually rewritten and released in 2015 as the forgettable Love the Coopers, with Keaton still starring and Redford’s role taken by, of all people, John Goodman). But the real competition for attention was moving elsewhere — to feeds and timelines, where fame was measured not by box office totals but by followers.

Continue/Read Original Article Here: Robert Redford, Diane Keaton and the Twilight of the Gods

#2025 #America #Books #DianeKeaton #Education #Film #Films #History #Libraries #LibraryOfCongress #Movies #OldHollywood #RobertRedford #Stars #TheHollywoodReporter #TwilightOfTheGods #UnitedStates

Robert Redford, Diane Keaton and the Twilight of the Gods – The Hollywood Reporter

• Home
• Movies
• Movie Features

Redford, Keaton and the Twilight of the Gods

The recent deaths of the icons cast a mournful light on a fading generation of actors who once redefined what movie stars could be — complex, messy, and all too human.

October 22, 2025

There was a moment, back in 2012, when Diane Keaton and Robert Redford nearly shared the screen. Both were reported to be “eyeing” the leads in a holiday-themed ensemble comedy titled The Most Wonderful Time, pitched as a Love Actually-style pastiche involving multiple interwoven tales of family and romance, all set against a backdrop of Christmas lights and yuletide meltdowns.

Alas, that movie never got made — at least not in that form — and Keaton and Redford never again came so close to working together. But in their own ways, these two very different actors — she, the eccentric spirit of New Hollywood comedy; he, the golden-boy stoic of the American pastoral — were bound by something even more powerful than onscreen chemistry: generational gravity. They belonged to the same loose orbit of 1970s-era performers who upended the rules of stardom and helped reshape what American movies could be.

Keaton died Oct. 11 at age 79 after a shockingly quick battle with pneumonia. Redford died in his sleep, at 89, a little less than a month earlier, on Sept. 16. Some from their cohort had gone before — Paul Newman in 2008, Shelley Duvall in 2024, Gene Hackman in February — while others have simply drifted from view. Warren Beatty, Jack Nicholson, Dustin Hoffman, Faye Dunaway — all now in their 80s — have largely stepped away from the spotlight.

Of course, this is nothing new. All stars, even the brightest, eventually flicker out as new generations take their place. But there’s something different — something more poignant — about watching this particular circle begin to vanish.

The stars who came before them had been shaped by the studio system — groomed, styled and slotted into types. They signed long-term contracts, wore what the wardrobe department handed them and gave interviews ghostwritten by studio publicists. Even the greats — Bogart, Hepburn, Gable, Davis — were often playing variations of a persona the system had helped construct. Their power came from polish, execution and consistency. Stardom was a product, and it was carefully managed.

By the time Redford, Keaton, Beatty and the others were coming of age as actors, the old studio scaffolding was already coming apart, with the contract system unraveling and the great moguls who once ruled the town with an iron fist fading from the scene. There was no longer a press-office puppeteer telling actors how to dress or what to say, no studio image to protect. They were free to define themselves — onscreen and off — and to let those two identities blur. Their personas could be withholding, eccentric, neurotic, ambiguous, strange. They could play characters the previous generation never got near: complicated people with unresolved feelings and messy inner lives.

At the same time, a new kind of director had taken over the asylum — such mavericks as Mike Nichols, Robert Altman, Hal Ashby, Alan J. Pakula and Martin Scorsese — filmmakers who weren’t interested in preserving the system. They wanted to blow it up. Their films — Carnal Knowledge, McCabe & Mrs. Miller, Shampoo, Klute, Taxi Driver — didn’t just break the rules, they rewrote the language of cinema itself. And that reinvention gave this young, liberated generation of actors a canvas as unbound and unconventional as they were — a kind of free-spirited platform that hadn’t existed before and hasn’t really existed since.

Few actors made better use of that freedom than Redford and Keaton. In such films as The Candidate, Three Days of the Condor and The Way We Were, Redford turned the clean-cut leading man into something more introspective and morally uncertain — a figure torn between idealism and self-interest. Keaton took the same open, idiosyncratic presence that made Annie Hall so engaging and revealed its darker shades in The Godfather and Looking for Mr. Goodbar, proving she could be fearless, complex, even unsettling. Both found truth in contradiction. They made uncertainty look thrilling.

But by the early 1980s, as the counterculture spirit of the previous decade gave way to something more box office-driven and less tolerant of creative chaos, a different model of movie star started taking over. Actors weren’t seeking to challenge the system anymore; they were the system, powering tentpoles, sequels and high-concept hits that could sell in every corner of the world. This was the era of the Event Movie, when opening-weekend grosses became the new measure of stardom. The actors who began appearing on marquees — Schwarzenegger, Stallone, Willis, Gibson, Cruise — weren’t celebrated for subtlety or transformation or their onscreen bravery, but for their box office clout.

Sure, by the 1990s, there was a parallel indie movement where some of these stars could unfurl their dramatic range, ’70s-style — Cruise in Magnolia, Stallone in Cop Land — but for all the critical acclaim and Oscar attention those roles might attract, what defined success in 1980s and ’90s Hollywood were the ticket sales for such tentpoles as Top Gun, Die Hard, the Rambo movies and The Terminator. Actors had become commodities of scale, defined largely by their ability to summon $100 million grosses.

When the new millennium arrived, that equation shifted yet again, even if the focus on money hadn’t. Hollywood’s center of gravity moved from stars to franchises. The IP became the real draw — superheroes, wizards, Jedi and other branded worlds. The costume, often spandex, mattered more than the actor inside it (even Redford got in on the act, playing a Marvel villain in Captain America: The Winter Soldier). Stardom no longer was the engine of the movie business; it was just another interchangeable part of the business.

Then, in the 2010s and ’20s, stardom started moving from the big screen to a much smaller stage — the phone. Hollywood was still turning out superhero sagas, prestige dramas and cozy seasonal fare (like that Christmas movie, The Most Wonderful Time, eventually rewritten and released in 2015 as the forgettable Love the Coopers, with Keaton still starring and Redford’s role taken by, of all people, John Goodman). But the real competition for attention was moving elsewhere — to feeds and timelines, where fame was measured not by box office totals but by followers.

Continue/Read Original Article Here: Robert Redford, Diane Keaton and the Twilight of the Gods

#2025 #America #Books #DianeKeaton #Education #Film #Films #History #Libraries #LibraryOfCongress #Movies #OldHollywood #RobertRedford #Stars #TheHollywoodReporter #TwilightOfTheGods #UnitedStates

Robert Redford, Diane Keaton and the Twilight of the Gods – The Hollywood Reporter

• Home
• Movies
• Movie Features

Redford, Keaton and the Twilight of the Gods

The recent deaths of the icons cast a mournful light on a fading generation of actors who once redefined what movie stars could be — complex, messy, and all too human.

October 22, 2025

There was a moment, back in 2012, when Diane Keaton and Robert Redford nearly shared the screen. Both were reported to be “eyeing” the leads in a holiday-themed ensemble comedy titled The Most Wonderful Time, pitched as a Love Actually-style pastiche involving multiple interwoven tales of family and romance, all set against a backdrop of Christmas lights and yuletide meltdowns.

Alas, that movie never got made — at least not in that form — and Keaton and Redford never again came so close to working together. But in their own ways, these two very different actors — she, the eccentric spirit of New Hollywood comedy; he, the golden-boy stoic of the American pastoral — were bound by something even more powerful than onscreen chemistry: generational gravity. They belonged to the same loose orbit of 1970s-era performers who upended the rules of stardom and helped reshape what American movies could be.

Keaton died Oct. 11 at age 79 after a shockingly quick battle with pneumonia. Redford died in his sleep, at 89, a little less than a month earlier, on Sept. 16. Some from their cohort had gone before — Paul Newman in 2008, Shelley Duvall in 2024, Gene Hackman in February — while others have simply drifted from view. Warren Beatty, Jack Nicholson, Dustin Hoffman, Faye Dunaway — all now in their 80s — have largely stepped away from the spotlight.

Of course, this is nothing new. All stars, even the brightest, eventually flicker out as new generations take their place. But there’s something different — something more poignant — about watching this particular circle begin to vanish.

The stars who came before them had been shaped by the studio system — groomed, styled and slotted into types. They signed long-term contracts, wore what the wardrobe department handed them and gave interviews ghostwritten by studio publicists. Even the greats — Bogart, Hepburn, Gable, Davis — were often playing variations of a persona the system had helped construct. Their power came from polish, execution and consistency. Stardom was a product, and it was carefully managed.

By the time Redford, Keaton, Beatty and the others were coming of age as actors, the old studio scaffolding was already coming apart, with the contract system unraveling and the great moguls who once ruled the town with an iron fist fading from the scene. There was no longer a press-office puppeteer telling actors how to dress or what to say, no studio image to protect. They were free to define themselves — onscreen and off — and to let those two identities blur. Their personas could be withholding, eccentric, neurotic, ambiguous, strange. They could play characters the previous generation never got near: complicated people with unresolved feelings and messy inner lives.

At the same time, a new kind of director had taken over the asylum — such mavericks as Mike Nichols, Robert Altman, Hal Ashby, Alan J. Pakula and Martin Scorsese — filmmakers who weren’t interested in preserving the system. They wanted to blow it up. Their films — Carnal Knowledge, McCabe & Mrs. Miller, Shampoo, Klute, Taxi Driver — didn’t just break the rules, they rewrote the language of cinema itself. And that reinvention gave this young, liberated generation of actors a canvas as unbound and unconventional as they were — a kind of free-spirited platform that hadn’t existed before and hasn’t really existed since.

Few actors made better use of that freedom than Redford and Keaton. In such films as The Candidate, Three Days of the Condor and The Way We Were, Redford turned the clean-cut leading man into something more introspective and morally uncertain — a figure torn between idealism and self-interest. Keaton took the same open, idiosyncratic presence that made Annie Hall so engaging and revealed its darker shades in The Godfather and Looking for Mr. Goodbar, proving she could be fearless, complex, even unsettling. Both found truth in contradiction. They made uncertainty look thrilling.

But by the early 1980s, as the counterculture spirit of the previous decade gave way to something more box office-driven and less tolerant of creative chaos, a different model of movie star started taking over. Actors weren’t seeking to challenge the system anymore; they were the system, powering tentpoles, sequels and high-concept hits that could sell in every corner of the world. This was the era of the Event Movie, when opening-weekend grosses became the new measure of stardom. The actors who began appearing on marquees — Schwarzenegger, Stallone, Willis, Gibson, Cruise — weren’t celebrated for subtlety or transformation or their onscreen bravery, but for their box office clout.

Sure, by the 1990s, there was a parallel indie movement where some of these stars could unfurl their dramatic range, ’70s-style — Cruise in Magnolia, Stallone in Cop Land — but for all the critical acclaim and Oscar attention those roles might attract, what defined success in 1980s and ’90s Hollywood were the ticket sales for such tentpoles as Top Gun, Die Hard, the Rambo movies and The Terminator. Actors had become commodities of scale, defined largely by their ability to summon $100 million grosses.

When the new millennium arrived, that equation shifted yet again, even if the focus on money hadn’t. Hollywood’s center of gravity moved from stars to franchises. The IP became the real draw — superheroes, wizards, Jedi and other branded worlds. The costume, often spandex, mattered more than the actor inside it (even Redford got in on the act, playing a Marvel villain in Captain America: The Winter Soldier). Stardom no longer was the engine of the movie business; it was just another interchangeable part of the business.

Then, in the 2010s and ’20s, stardom started moving from the big screen to a much smaller stage — the phone. Hollywood was still turning out superhero sagas, prestige dramas and cozy seasonal fare (like that Christmas movie, The Most Wonderful Time, eventually rewritten and released in 2015 as the forgettable Love the Coopers, with Keaton still starring and Redford’s role taken by, of all people, John Goodman). But the real competition for attention was moving elsewhere — to feeds and timelines, where fame was measured not by box office totals but by followers.

Continue/Read Original Article Here: Robert Redford, Diane Keaton and the Twilight of the Gods

#2025 #America #Books #DianeKeaton #Education #Film #Films #History #Libraries #LibraryOfCongress #Movies #OldHollywood #RobertRedford #Stars #TheHollywoodReporter #TwilightOfTheGods #UnitedStates

Robert Redford, Diane Keaton and the Twilight of the Gods – The Hollywood Reporter

• Home
• Movies
• Movie Features

Redford, Keaton and the Twilight of the Gods

The recent deaths of the icons cast a mournful light on a fading generation of actors who once redefined what movie stars could be — complex, messy, and all too human.

October 22, 2025

There was a moment, back in 2012, when Diane Keaton and Robert Redford nearly shared the screen. Both were reported to be “eyeing” the leads in a holiday-themed ensemble comedy titled The Most Wonderful Time, pitched as a Love Actually-style pastiche involving multiple interwoven tales of family and romance, all set against a backdrop of Christmas lights and yuletide meltdowns.

Alas, that movie never got made — at least not in that form — and Keaton and Redford never again came so close to working together. But in their own ways, these two very different actors — she, the eccentric spirit of New Hollywood comedy; he, the golden-boy stoic of the American pastoral — were bound by something even more powerful than onscreen chemistry: generational gravity. They belonged to the same loose orbit of 1970s-era performers who upended the rules of stardom and helped reshape what American movies could be.

Keaton died Oct. 11 at age 79 after a shockingly quick battle with pneumonia. Redford died in his sleep, at 89, a little less than a month earlier, on Sept. 16. Some from their cohort had gone before — Paul Newman in 2008, Shelley Duvall in 2024, Gene Hackman in February — while others have simply drifted from view. Warren Beatty, Jack Nicholson, Dustin Hoffman, Faye Dunaway — all now in their 80s — have largely stepped away from the spotlight.

Of course, this is nothing new. All stars, even the brightest, eventually flicker out as new generations take their place. But there’s something different — something more poignant — about watching this particular circle begin to vanish.

The stars who came before them had been shaped by the studio system — groomed, styled and slotted into types. They signed long-term contracts, wore what the wardrobe department handed them and gave interviews ghostwritten by studio publicists. Even the greats — Bogart, Hepburn, Gable, Davis — were often playing variations of a persona the system had helped construct. Their power came from polish, execution and consistency. Stardom was a product, and it was carefully managed.

By the time Redford, Keaton, Beatty and the others were coming of age as actors, the old studio scaffolding was already coming apart, with the contract system unraveling and the great moguls who once ruled the town with an iron fist fading from the scene. There was no longer a press-office puppeteer telling actors how to dress or what to say, no studio image to protect. They were free to define themselves — onscreen and off — and to let those two identities blur. Their personas could be withholding, eccentric, neurotic, ambiguous, strange. They could play characters the previous generation never got near: complicated people with unresolved feelings and messy inner lives.

At the same time, a new kind of director had taken over the asylum — such mavericks as Mike Nichols, Robert Altman, Hal Ashby, Alan J. Pakula and Martin Scorsese — filmmakers who weren’t interested in preserving the system. They wanted to blow it up. Their films — Carnal Knowledge, McCabe & Mrs. Miller, Shampoo, Klute, Taxi Driver — didn’t just break the rules, they rewrote the language of cinema itself. And that reinvention gave this young, liberated generation of actors a canvas as unbound and unconventional as they were — a kind of free-spirited platform that hadn’t existed before and hasn’t really existed since.

Few actors made better use of that freedom than Redford and Keaton. In such films as The Candidate, Three Days of the Condor and The Way We Were, Redford turned the clean-cut leading man into something more introspective and morally uncertain — a figure torn between idealism and self-interest. Keaton took the same open, idiosyncratic presence that made Annie Hall so engaging and revealed its darker shades in The Godfather and Looking for Mr. Goodbar, proving she could be fearless, complex, even unsettling. Both found truth in contradiction. They made uncertainty look thrilling.

But by the early 1980s, as the counterculture spirit of the previous decade gave way to something more box office-driven and less tolerant of creative chaos, a different model of movie star started taking over. Actors weren’t seeking to challenge the system anymore; they were the system, powering tentpoles, sequels and high-concept hits that could sell in every corner of the world. This was the era of the Event Movie, when opening-weekend grosses became the new measure of stardom. The actors who began appearing on marquees — Schwarzenegger, Stallone, Willis, Gibson, Cruise — weren’t celebrated for subtlety or transformation or their onscreen bravery, but for their box office clout.

Sure, by the 1990s, there was a parallel indie movement where some of these stars could unfurl their dramatic range, ’70s-style — Cruise in Magnolia, Stallone in Cop Land — but for all the critical acclaim and Oscar attention those roles might attract, what defined success in 1980s and ’90s Hollywood were the ticket sales for such tentpoles as Top Gun, Die Hard, the Rambo movies and The Terminator. Actors had become commodities of scale, defined largely by their ability to summon $100 million grosses.

When the new millennium arrived, that equation shifted yet again, even if the focus on money hadn’t. Hollywood’s center of gravity moved from stars to franchises. The IP became the real draw — superheroes, wizards, Jedi and other branded worlds. The costume, often spandex, mattered more than the actor inside it (even Redford got in on the act, playing a Marvel villain in Captain America: The Winter Soldier). Stardom no longer was the engine of the movie business; it was just another interchangeable part of the business.

Then, in the 2010s and ’20s, stardom started moving from the big screen to a much smaller stage — the phone. Hollywood was still turning out superhero sagas, prestige dramas and cozy seasonal fare (like that Christmas movie, The Most Wonderful Time, eventually rewritten and released in 2015 as the forgettable Love the Coopers, with Keaton still starring and Redford’s role taken by, of all people, John Goodman). But the real competition for attention was moving elsewhere — to feeds and timelines, where fame was measured not by box office totals but by followers.

Continue/Read Original Article Here: Robert Redford, Diane Keaton and the Twilight of the Gods

#2025 #America #Books #DianeKeaton #Education #Film #Films #History #Libraries #LibraryOfCongress #Movies #OldHollywood #RobertRedford #Stars #TheHollywoodReporter #TwilightOfTheGods #UnitedStates

Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, Diane Keaton – „Der Pate“ (1972)

Kaum ein anderer Film hat sein Jahrzehnt und wahrscheinlich sein ganzes Jahrhundert so geprägt, und kaum ein Ensemble das Kino so still revolutioniert, wie dieses Drama von Francis Ford Coppola. Ein Film, der längst zur politischen Mythologie US-Amerikas gehört. Doch jenseits des ikonischen Mafia-Schattenspiels, all der Zigarren und Pferdeköpfe, pulsiert ein leiseres, intimeres Drama… (ARD, Wh.)

Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, Diane Keaton – „Der Pate“ (1972)

https://nexxtpress.de/mediathekperlen/marlon-brando-al-pacino-diane-keaton-der-pate-1972/

‘I lost a friend of almost 40 years’: Nancy Meyers pays tribute to Diane Keaton https://www.theguardian.com/film/2025/oct/14/nancy-meyers-director-tribute-diane-keaton #DianeKeaton #NancyMeyers #Culture #Film

𝗞𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘂 𝗥𝗲𝗲𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝗲𝗻 𝗡𝗮𝗻𝗰𝘆 𝗠𝗲𝘆𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗸𝗲𝗻 𝗗𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗲 𝗞𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗻

Acteur Keanu Reeves en regisseur Nancy Meyers hebben hun collega Diane Keaton herdacht. Reeves noemde haar onder meer "ontzettend professioneel".

https://www.rtl.nl/boulevard/artikel/5533391/keanu-reeves-en-nancy-meyers-herdenken-diane-keaton

#KeanuReeves #NancyMeyers #DianeKeaton

Keanu Reeves Remembers ‘Something’s Gotta Give’ Co-Star Diane Keaton
#News #Obituaries #DianeKeaton #KeanuReeves #NancyMeyers #Something039sGottaGive

https://deadline.com/2025/10/keanu-reeves-remembers-diane-keaton-1236584152/

Keanu Reeves Remembers Diane Keaton as a ‘Generous Artist’ and a ‘Very Special’ Person: ‘She Was Very Nice to Me’
#Variety #News #DianeKeaton #KeanuReeves #NancyMeyers #WoodyAllen

https://variety.com/2025/film/news/diane-keaton-keanu-reeves-somthings-gotta-give-1236552118/

Keanu Reeves Remembers Diane Keaton as a ‘Generous Artist’ and a ‘Very Special’ Person: ‘She Was Very Nice to Me’

https://web.brid.gy/r/https://variety.com/2025/film/news/diane-keaton-keanu-reeves-somthings-gotta-give-1236552118/

Keanu Reeves Pays Tribute to Diane Keaton: “She Was a Very Special Artist and Person”
#MovieNews #Movies #DianeKeaton #Events #KeanuReeves #NancyMeyers

https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-news/keanu-reeves-tribute-diane-keaton-somethings-gotta-give-1236399913/

Diane Keaton Tribute: AMC Theatres Rereleasing ‘Annie Hall,’ ‘Something’s Gotta Give’ (Exclusive)
#MovieNews #Movies #AMCTheatres #AnnieHall #DianeKeaton #JackNicholson #KeanuReeves #NancyMeyers #WoodyAllen

https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-news/diane-keaton-amc-theatres-annie-hall-somethings-gotta-give-1236399845/

Nancy Meyers Shares Emotional Tribute To Diane Keaton Following Death: “I Lost A Friend Of Over 40 Years”
#News #DianeKeaton #FatheroftheBride #NancyMeyers #Something039sGottaGive

https://deadline.com/2025/10/nancy-meyers-tribute-diane-keaton-death-1236583855/

Nancy Meyers Remembers “Giant” Diane Keaton: “I Lost a Friend of Almost 40 Years”
#MovieNews #Movies #DianeKeaton #NancyMeyers

https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-news/nancy-meyers-remembers-diane-keaton-friend-almost-40-years-1236399669/

Nancy Meyers Says ‘I’ve Lost a Friend of 40 Years’ After Diane Keaton’s Death: ‘She Was Fearless. She Was Born to Be a Movie Star’
#Variety #News #DianeKeaton #NancyMeyers

https://variety.com/2025/film/news/nancy-meyers-diane-keaton-tribute-1236551713/

𝗪𝗼𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗔𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗻 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗸𝘁 '𝘂𝗻𝗶𝗲𝗸𝗲' 𝗗𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗲 𝗞𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗻

Woody Allen heeft een eerbetoon voor actrice Diane Keaton geplaatst op de Amerikaanse nieuwssite The Free Press. De filmmaker omschrijft de zaterdag overleden Keaton daarin als "anders dan wie ook". "Haar gezicht en lach verlichtten elke ruimte die ze binnenkwam", schreef Allen, die vaak met Keaton samenwerkte.

https://www.rtl.nl/boulevard/artikel/5533193/woody-allen-herdenkt-unieke-diane-keaton

#WoodyAllen #herdenkt #DianeKeaton

Una grandissima attrice, con una classe immane.
RIP #DianeKeaton.

#film #movies #cinema #cineMastodon #cineItalia #12ottobre

https://variety.com/2025/film/news/diane-keaton-dead-annie-hall-1236546710/

𝗛𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆𝘄𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗸𝘁 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗲𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗗𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗲 𝗞𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗻

In Hollywood is met groot verdriet gereageerd op het overlijden van actrice Diane Keaton. Verschillende collega's uit de filmwereld betuigen hun medeleven. De Oscarwinnares is zaterdag overleden op 79-jarige leeftijd.

https://www.rtl.nl/boulevard/artikel/5533016/hollywood-herdenkt-overleden-actrice-diane-keaton

#Hollywood #Herdenkt #DianeKeaton

Charles Shyer, Writer-Director on ‘Baby Boom’ and the ‘Father of the Bride’ Remakes, Dies at 83
#MovieNews #Movies #BurtReynolds #DianeKeaton #ElizabethTaylor #GarryMarshall #HilarySwank #JudeLaw #NancyMeyers #Obituaries #ReeseWitherspoon #SteveMartin

https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-news/charles-shyer-dead-baby-boom-father-of-the-bride-private-benjamin-1236095033/

And our #FridayThrillerClub leading ladies this week are Diane Keaton, Talia Shire, Bridget Fonda and Sofia Coppola
#TheGodfatherCoda #TheDeathOfMichaelCorleone #DianeKeaton #TaliaShire #BridgetFonda #SofiaCoppola #90smovies #FilmNoir