Putting in a good word for Pacino, De Niro

WHILE I read Patrick Goldstein's column regarding the poor film choices of Al Pacino and Robert De Niro with great interest ["How the Mighty Have Fallen," by Patrick Goldstein, April 22], I can't help but point out the glaring omissions in his argument. First off, Goldstein begins the column by quoting Francis Ford Coppola, a filmmaker whose recent work has been lackluster at best.

Then we are given examples of some of the mediocre films that Pacino and De Niro have recently starred in, failing to dig deeper into their extracurricular activities. Pacino had an excellent turn in Mike Nichols' HBO adaptation of Tony Kushner's play "Angels in America" (winner of a whopping 11 Emmys, including one for the actor) and continues his commitment to the stage, appearing in such revivals as Eugene O'Neill's "The Iceman Cometh" and Oscar Wilde's "Salome," while De Niro got kudos for his directorial work in the grossly underrated "The Good Shepherd."

Furthermore, De Niro's Tribeca Film Festival gets a fleeting mention, in a negative context no less, completely undermining the fact that it was established post-Sept.11 in order to drum up morale to a grieving city the actor holds so dear to his heart.

Perhaps the biggest blunder is Goldstein's failure to acknowledge the fact that, as two of the greatest actors of our time, Pacino and De Niro have nothing more to prove. Collectively, their films -- which include "The Godfather Parts I & II," "Serpico," "Raging Bull," "Dog Day Afternoon" and "Goodfellas" -- are among the greatest of all time, and after Pacino and De Niro are gone, their work will live on forever, while those of all the Kutchers and Christensens of the world will merely be dust in the wind.

Shant Istamboulian

Burbank

I cringed when I read the denigrating remarks made about two wonderful actors, Al Pacino and Robert De Niro.

One of the most important industries in our country is the film industry. Our movies reach out to every corner of the world. Our stars are appreciated everywhere.

Al Pacino and Robert De Niro are two of our very important stars. They have made movies that will never be forgotten. I think you owe them an apology.

Kirk Douglas

Los Angeles





IT was difficult to get beyond Patrick Goldstein's ad hominem critique of Al Pacino ("vanity . . . grab the dough . . . poof of hair . . . ego-stoked delusion"). When I thought past my distaste for the column's low blows, I understood the larger point: that American movie/drama/theater art and artists are largely driven by making money -- we could say, any way they can. OK, but why not also wonder why and comment upon a media dominated by assessing hits and losers in terms of box office?

Pacino's talent has not diminished. No, the real problem is that in America we do not have an honorable place to perform for the general public without having to bring in the big bucks. Ask citizens why we won't support, with tax dollars, a national theater as in Great Britain, or a national film board as in Canada, places where giant talents such as Pacino might perform without fear of the vituperative critics, the loss of prestige, the need to make "hits" -- a venue where talent would dedicate itself to doing good work to edify, and not to make profits.

John A. Medici

Burbank

Mr. President

MARY McNAMARA committed a rather egregious historical error in her commentary on HBO's seven-part series, "John Adams" ["HBO as Underdog," April 19], in which she claimed that "George Washington so quickly tired of the infighting among his Cabinet and vagaries of public opinion that he stepped down from the presidency after a single term." This is patently absurd. He served two. And that was a point underscored in the series. Adams only served one.

The error further undermines the credibility of her assessment that " 'John Adams' has done well, especially considering that it's a historical drama composed, mostly, of men in waistcoats talking politics." Say what?

The focus of the series was on the relationship between Adams and his wife, Abigail, played brilliantly by Laura Linney. The interplay of their 54-year marriage dominated the drama. It was hardly about men in waistcoats.

Perhaps McNamara should have paid closer attention.