In 1995, Buenos Aires felt like a city operating on a different frequency. Cell phones were a luxury, the internet a nascent curiosity and my daily commute along the seemingly endless Avenida Rivadavia was largely defined by the rustle of the English-language Buenos Aires Herald and the sweet scent of a medialuna – a classic Argentine pastry – purchased for a few pesos. I was teaching English, supplementing my income by scouring the Herald’s job section, and occasionally, escaping into the cinema listings. It was in those listings that I first learned Robert Duvall was in town, filming The Man Who Captured Eichmann. The news felt seismic. Robert Duvall, the iconic Tom Hagen of The Godfather, was walking the streets of Buenos Aires.
The thought of encountering him, of even being in the same vicinity as such a towering figure of American cinema, was intoxicating. It was a ridiculous fantasy, of course. I’d have a better chance of waltzing with Evita Perón herself. But the possibility, however remote, lingered. And fate, it turned out, had a peculiar sense of timing. The city was also abuzz with the arrival of Madonna, preparing to film Evita, but it was Duvall’s presence that truly captivated me. The allure of a quiet, masterful actor versus the pop spectacle of Madonna felt, even then, like a reflection of my own cinematic preferences.
The institute where I taught was a ten-minute walk from the bus stop, a journey that required navigating the grid of Buenos Aires’ broad avenues. One morning, something was different. A side street was partially blocked off, and a film crew was setting up. Lights blazed, and a woman and a young girl in period costumes waited patiently for their cue. Overhearing snippets of conversation in my limited Spanish, I gathered that an HBO production was filming nearby. Someone muttered, “¡Eichmann está comiendo!” – “Eichmann is eating!” – and a wave of surreal excitement washed over me.
My students, mostly middle-aged professionals, were waiting. Argentines, I knew, possessed a deep appreciation for cinema, and I hoped they’d forgive my tardiness. But the question wasn’t just about being late; it was about the impossible scenario unfolding just a few blocks away. Could I, should I, attempt to catch a glimpse? The thought of barging onto a film set, clutching a pen and a notepad, felt absurd.
I saw only a silhouette. But what a silhouette.
Time was running out. I crossed the street, attempting to appear nonchalant as I walked along the pavement opposite the restaurant. Then, driven by an irresistible impulse, I pivoted and hurried back across the street, directly toward the camera lights. I was spotted by an assistant director, and all my carefully constructed composure evaporated. In a desperate attempt to avoid a reprimand, I dropped to my knees in the middle of the usually bustling street, pretending to tie my shoelace.
Looking up, bracing for a scolding in Spanish, I saw him. There, framed in the window of the restaurant, was Robert Duvall. Not just the actor, but a constellation of characters: Eichmann, Stalin, Boo Radley from To Kill a Mockingbird, Lieutenant Colonel Kilgore from Apocalypse Now, Tom Hagen, Frank Burns from M*A*S*H*, and countless others. It was a fleeting moment, a silhouette against the light, but it was enough.
A Life Beyond the Screen
Robert Duvall, who passed away on January 5, 2024, at the age of 95, possessed a remarkable ability to disappear into his roles. He wasn’t a star who demanded attention; he was a craftsman who inhabited his characters with quiet intensity. He seemed, remarkably, to remain perpetually middle-aged, a testament to his dedication to the art of acting.
But Duvall’s life extended far beyond the silver screen. Even as filming in Argentina, he discovered a passion for the tango. He loved it so much, he opened a dance studio in downtown Buenos Aires. Yes, Major Kilgore of Apocalypse Now could, and did, move with the grace of a seasoned tango dancer. It was at a local bakery, while indulging in a morning medialuna, that he met Luciana Pedraza, the granddaughter of Susana Ferrari Billinghurst, a pioneering figure in Argentine aviation. They perfected their tango together, and also pursued Brazilian jiu-jitsu. Luciana Pedraza, in a statement following his death, said, “To the world, he was an Academy Award-winning actor, a director, a storyteller. To me, he was simply everything.”
A Constellation Diminished
Duvall himself once remarked that being a star was “an agent’s dream, not an actor’s.” He belonged to a constellation of actors – Gene Hackman, Robert Redford, Diane Keaton – who defined American cinema in the 1970s, and whose numbers are sadly dwindling. His passing marks the loss of a true original, a performer who consistently elevated the art of acting.
The Avenida Rivadavia continues to stretch across Buenos Aires, a bustling artery of city life. And while the city has changed dramatically since 1995, the memory of that fleeting glimpse of Robert Duvall, framed in a restaurant window, remains vivid. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most unexpected encounters can leave the most lasting impressions.
Luciana Pedraza continues to run the tango studio in Buenos Aires, keeping Duvall’s passion for the dance alive. Further details regarding a memorial service have not yet been announced.
What are your favorite Robert Duvall performances? Share your memories in the comments below.
