Paul Newman

摘要

The eyes were blue. Cornflower blue, steel blue, ice blue. They smouldered through the soft-focus foliage in "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" as he swayed on a bicycle with Katharine Ross on the handlebars. They stared beautifully in his middle-aged lawyer's face as, in "The Verdict", he was handed an enormous cheque which he refused to take. They were so blue that they registered even in black and white. As he stepped out of the ranch door in "Hud", casually buttoning his shirt, or as he woke himself up in "The Hustler" for another frame with Minnesota Fats after 25 hours at the pool table, you could have sworn they glowed with the colour of some deep, distant sky.rnPaul Newman himself thought little of them. He hid them behind sunglasses, and sometimes asked his fans whether this was all they valued him for. His epitaph, he once said, should be "Here lies Paul Newman, who died a failure because his eyes turned brown."