Few directors have shaped modern cinema as

profoundly as Steven Spielberg. From the thrilling

adventure of Indiana Jones to the haunting

realism of Schindler’s List, his storytelling

has captured the imagination of generations. But

beyond his own directorial prowess, Spielberg

is also an ardent cinephile, a filmmaker whose

appreciation of Hollywood’s golden era runs deep.

When reflecting on the finest talents to ever

grace the silver screen, Spielberg has identified

a select group who, in his view, epitomise the

essence of great acting. These individuals not

only shaped the cinematic landscape of their

1939 | The Oscars - Spencer Tracy and Be... | Stock Video | Pond5

time but also left an enduring impact on the

craft itself. They defined heroism, romance,

comedy, and drama with a level of sophistication

that set the benchmark for future generations.

Their performances remain as compelling today as

they were decades ago, a testament to their

extraordinary talent and enduring legacy.

Spielberg’s reverence for Spencer Tracy is

unsurprising. A two-time Academy Award winner,

Tracy was known for his remarkable naturalism,

his ability to disappear into roles with an

ease that belied the intensity beneath. His

performances in Captains Courageous and

Boys Town earned him back-to-back Oscars,

but it was his late-career turn in Guess Who’s

U pokladny stál - Konfrontace - YouTube

Coming to Dinner that cemented his legacy.

“Tracy was the kind of actor who never looked like

he was acting,” Spielberg noted in a conversation

with fellow director Stanley Kubrick. “He

had this honesty, this incredible truth in

his performances. You never saw the technique, and

yet, he could break your heart with just a look.”

Tracy’s ability to command the screen came from

an internal power rather than showy theatrics.

He often worked with a quiet intensity,

allowing emotion to simmer just below the

surface until it erupted in moments of stunning

authenticity. Unlike many of his contemporaries,

Tracy was never one for flamboyance—his

U pokladny stál - Kolega - YouTube

performances were defined by restraint

and subtlety, making them all the

more impactful. His collaboration

with Katharine Hepburn across multiple

films also demonstrated his ability to

balance strength with vulnerability,

a trait that made him unforgettable.

Henry Fonda, often cast as the embodiment of

American idealism, was another of Spielberg’s

greats. His role in The Grapes of Wrath, where

he played Tom Joad, a man struggling to survive

during the Great Depression, remains one of the

most affecting performances in cinema history.

February 23 | disneydetail

“Fonda had an incredible dignity to him,”

Spielberg once said. “He could stand in the

centre of a frame and command the entire

scene without saying a word.” Whether

as the stalwart juror in 12 Angry Men or the

reluctant gunfighter in My Darling Clementine,

Fonda carried with him a rare moral gravity.

His performances resonated because they were

deeply human. He played men of principle,

but never in a way that felt sanctimonious

or exaggerated. His quiet resolve made him a

compelling screen presence, and his piercing

blue eyes conveyed a depth of emotion that

made his characters feel real. Fonda’s

legacy is one of conviction and integrity,

traits that Spielberg has always

admired in his own storytelling.

If there was ever an actor who

personified the American everyman,

it was James Stewart. His collaborations with

Alfred Hitchcock—particularly Rear Window and

Vertigo—revealed a darker complexity behind

his folksy charm, while It’s a Wonderful Life

remains a quintessential example of

cinematic storytelling at its finest.

“Stewart had that unique ability to be both

vulnerable and strong at the same time,”

Spielberg reflected. “You believed him. You felt

for him. He made you want to be a better person.”

Stewart’s ability to transition seamlessly

between lighthearted comedies and psychological

thrillers is a testament to his immense

talent. He brought sincerity to every role,

ensuring that audiences connected with him no

matter the genre. His performances with Hitchcock

exposed a side of him that had previously

been untapped—he was no longer just the

affable leading man but a complex, layered

performer capable of conveying obsession,

fear, and moral ambiguity. Spielberg’s admiration

for Stewart is rooted in this versatility,

recognising the way he could evoke deep

emotion with the subtlest of gestures.

Where Stewart brought vulnerability, Cary

Grant exuded effortless charm. Handsome,

debonair, and always impeccably dressed, Grant

was the epitome of the classic leading man.

From the screwball comedies of Bringing

Up Baby and The Philadelphia Story

to Hitchcock’s North by Northwest,

Grant was the ultimate matinee idol.

“Grant could do anything,” Spielberg once said.

“He could make you laugh, make you cry, make you

believe in romance. He had this lightness

of touch that was absolutely masterful.”

Grant’s ability to blend humour with

sophistication made him one of the most

beloved stars of his era. His impeccable comic

timing and effortless delivery of dialogue

made even the most complex scripts seem

natural. He was also a master of physical

comedy, unafraid to use his body to enhance a

performance. Yet, despite his charm and wit,

he was also capable of dramatic depth, as seen

in some of his later work. Grant remains a symbol

of Hollywood’s golden age, an actor whose

presence alone elevated any film he was in.

No list of golden age legends would be complete

without Clark Gable. With his signature roguish

charm and undeniable screen presence, Gable

was, quite simply, a star. His turn as Rhett

Butler in Gone with the Wind remains one of the

most iconic performances in cinematic history.

“There was something larger than life

about Gable,” Spielberg remarked. “He

wasn’t just an actor—he was a symbol of an

era, of masculinity, of Hollywood itself.”

Gable’s charisma was unparalleled. He embodied a

rugged masculinity that resonated with audiences,

making him one of the most bankable stars of

his time. Yet beneath his commanding presence

lay a nuanced actor capable of vulnerability

and depth. His chemistry with leading ladies,

particularly Vivien Leigh and Jean Harlow,

remains the stuff of legend. Gable wasn’t just the

King of Hollywood in title—he earned it through

performances that still captivate audiences today.

Spielberg’s selections are more than just a roll

call of great performances—they represent an era

of filmmaking where storytelling was paramount

and actors became immortal through their craft.

Each of these men brought something unique to the

screen: Tracy’s authenticity, Fonda’s moral depth,

Stewart’s emotional resonance, Grant’s effortless

charm, and Gable’s commanding presence.

It is telling that when Stanley

Kubrick heard Spielberg’s list,

he responded with a challenge: “Where’s James

Cagney?” It was a valid question—Cagney,

known for his electrifying energy in films

like White Heat, could certainly have earned

a place among the greats. But Spielberg

was unwavering in his choices. For him,

these five actors stood apart, their influence

felt in every frame of film that followed.

In an era where Hollywood is increasingly

dominated by spectacle and special effects,

Spielberg’s reverence for these actors serves

as a reminder of the power of performance. They

were giants in their time, and their work

remains as vital and compelling today as

it was decades ago. As Spielberg himself put it:

“Great acting is timeless. These men proved that.”