Walter Murch honors Gene Hackman, recalling 12-hour days spent over 16 months without meeting him.

I never officially met Gene Hackman, but I caught a brief glimpse of him in November 1972. He was on his way to the American Zoetrope offices in San Francisco to see Mona Skager, who was working as an associate producer with Francis Ford Coppola. I was set to be the editor for Coppola’s upcoming film, The Conversation, which was about to start production. Although I only saw Gene for a moment, I spent the next 16 months closely working with his character, Harry Caul, as I edited the film.

This was my first opportunity to work as an editor on a feature film, and I experienced a mix of excitement and fear. Before this film, I had edited some commercials and short documentaries, and I had also worked on sound design for Coppola’s previous films, The Godfather and The Rain People, as well as George Lucas’s THX 1138. Despite my previous experience, editing The Conversation was a significant step for me, which explained my excitement. However, the pressure was intense because it was the follow-up to the hugely successful The Godfather, and if anything went wrong, I, as the inexperienced editor, would likely face much of the blame.

There’s a unique relationship between actors and film editors. Editors spend long hours—10 to 12 hours a day—studying actors and examining their every move, expression, and subtle gesture. We become almost like anthropologists of these performers, learning their unique rhythms and characteristics. Over time, we absorb how they convey emotion and translate that into the film’s editing style and pacing.

In many ways, I developed an intimate understanding of Harry Caul more than most people. When I met actors later, they often wouldn’t recognize me, despite the fact that I felt like I knew them very well. It created an interesting dynamic where these performers had no idea how deeply I had studied their craft—even things like how they moved or hesitated in certain situations.

Sometimes, when reviewing footage late at night, I found myself so in tune with Harry that when he would stop a tape recorder, I was surprised to see that my editing machine kept running. There was a moment when I realized that right before I intended to make a cut, Harry would blink. It left me wondering if I was controlling the film or if he was guiding my decisions. This observation led to a realization that would later shape my thoughts on film editing, which I elaborated on in my book, In the Blink of an Eye.

Gene Hackman’s performance as Harry provided the essential rhythm I needed to assemble and pace the movie effectively. His work implicitly guided me, often without me even being aware of it. I can’t help but think how differently the film would have turned out if someone else had played that role.

When I heard the sad news of Gene Hackman’s passing, it hit me hard. I have been a fan of his impressive career that spanned five decades in American cinema, but even more so, I reflected on how he had unknowingly inspired and guided me while I was editing The Conversation. Unfortunately, I never had the chance to express my gratitude to him personally for the influence he had on my journey as a filmmaker. So, I want to take this moment to say, “Thank you, Gene.”