Art of Change : Actor, Director and Movie Producer.
You can be sure it’s safe that you have no idea what it is, and you’re coping with Netflix’s pesky “Are you still watching?” alerts. De Niro’s not only a name — it’s an adjectival phrase. “Oh, it was very De Niro acting.” Clueless yet? Wait ‘til the end.
Here’s the guy whose issues were that he did not like acting. Nuh-uh, he had to be the thesp. Don’t ruin it all for all of the rest of u s by screwing it all up by screwing it all up, he did it.It was born on 17th of August 1943 (yes, he’s in his 80s, and no, you shall never be as funky), whose biography is like the book on ho w to screw every character that walks in thy door. Where the rest of u s can’t even set updating our résumés, he’s won Oscars since telephones had wires.
First Oscar win at Oscars be hooligan, first win? Playing young Vito Corleome in The Godfather Part II (1974) as yes good ole first-time as part of all-time all-time best of all-time screen mob boss kingpin kingpins. It’s like being asked on first internship internship and elected CEO. Raging Bull later in 1980, playing Jake LaMotta, acting with such passion it won it for him the award of Best Actor but maybe scarred very much own face off in bathroom mirror good for month. Don’t even start with Taxi Driver (1976) as in “You talkin’ to me?” Yes indeed, Bob, we be!). It set the standard so high it’s still on every “Top 10 Movie Quotes of All Time” list.
And it only gets good. Goodfellas, Casino, Heat, The Deer Hunter. Close those eyes and crash on that body of work of his, and it’s like ordering topping on your pizza – all good. And have I even talked about his funny range? Meet the Parents, Analyze This. The guy’s deadpan sophistication cutting that you’ll be rightfully condemned for watching it.
Awards, Respect, and Never Sorry
And wait for it, it keeps getting better. The guy isn’t just an interpreter of characters, people. When you were deliberating hawaiian versus pepperoni versus whatever as dinner, De Niro played A Bronx Tale and The Good Shepherd. And while thinking whether you’re heading out for jog, he co-founded the Tribeca Film Festival. Why? Because it seemed like as good of time as it would ever be to start the cultural phenomenon, I guess. Six of his films were added to the U.S. National Film Registry as “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.” Not one. Not two. SIX. That’s as good as it gets as far as movies go. That’s like having those baby pics of yours framed at the Louvre.
And don’t act like the awards have forgotten about the guy. The guy’s got more lifetime awards than you’ve had argyles on. AFI Life Achievement Award? Check. Kennedy Center Honors? Check. Screen Actors Guild Life Achievement Award? Yet another check. It’s getting to where it’s not very exciting at all bestowing De Niro with yet another award because it’s like presenting LeBron James with the basketball with the note on it that says, “You know, have you tried it before?”
And it’s more than that, the guy’s career isn’t at it’s peak. No apology tours, no “supporting character as wisheh-grandpa” set piece. No way, he’s already blowing through roles (The Irishman, anyone?) while the rest of it is going through Google on “How to transition into home work.” The kicker is, he won’t back down. Grapevine gossip he’s ordered an honorary 2025 Palme d’Or. Course he is. Robert De Niro isn’t going through the motions like playing by the rulebook, he’s breaking the rulebook. It’s an acting and passion masterclass every step of the way, every sentence, every on-camera subtlety. Shortened version? De Niro doesn’t act nearly as much as he intimidates every piece of dialogue into submission. The rest of us can only sit back and gawk in awe and wonder what we’ll Netflix next, because he’s over here showing why Hollywood’ll always tip the hat in awe. A legend? Yes. But the thing is, it underestimates. It’s Robert f-ing De Niro, and legends don’t have dictionaries attached — they redefine.
Baptized, Bohemian, and Bound for the Spotlight
Robert Anthony De Niro did not arrive in the world—he burst into it, Greenwich Village, Manhattan, on August 17, 1943—the product of parents Virginia Admiral and Robert De Niro Sr. with an artistic heritage pretty much DNA-inked. They were painters, mind you, but contemporary artists with debauched lives of melodrama. It’s as if the world looked at his family tree and declared, “This child is going to need much character development.” Nine points for the universe on that call. Spoiler alert: it did.
De Niro’s childhood was like a Broadway romance. The parents Bobby and Virginia De Niro Jr.’s romance had begun as a “meet-cute” at Hans Hofmann’s art class at Provincetown but went bankrupt after the father declared himself homosexual. Bobby Jr. was only two at the age of that plot twist, casting the rest of all of his teen years yet long past all-American suburban joy.
Growing up between bohemia neighborhoods of Manhattan with the quirky character of Greenwich Village all within and the hard-but-soft bite of nearby Little Italy, De Niro grew as a youth with annoyance and fantasy all around. Theexperimental painter father was close at hand. The alienation of it all notwithstanding, Sr. had no qualms in vetoing Bobby’s suspicious career choice of associates. “Bobby Milk,” with pale-faced face, grew as one of the hard-as-nails sons of Little Italy. Somewhere within every such family vacation dinner table, you could hear his father’s exasperated sigh.
Where religion was involved, Bobby’s life would’ve earned itself an HBO miniseries at least as long as The Sopranos. With a mom that swung back and forth between atheist and Presbyterian, with a father that quit being Catholic at age 12, with paranoid grandparents that went and baptized him anyway, De Niro was all but prophesied of playing nuanced characters. Family melodrama? Check. History of emotional depth? Check. A child baptized without parental consent would have some existential angst as a child.
Education wasn’t any less colorful. His school years resembled a game of academic hopscotch. Starting at PS 41, he briefly lit up the stage at the Dramatic Workshop as the Cowardly Lion at just ten. Then came a whirlwind tour of schools, including Elisabeth Irwin, the High School of Music & Art, IS 71, McBurney, and Rhodes Preparatory. None of them stuck. At 16, De Niro decided he’d had enough of classrooms and traded algebra for acting. His logic? “If those mediocre guys on TV can make a living, I can’t possibly be worse.” Say what you will, but the man knew how to bet on himself.
And then he not only tried acting—he enrolled. The guy was not being counseled. Here, he went at it headfirst with classes with Stella Adler, Lee Strasberg, and the Stanislavski technique and absorbed every last morsel of instruction like a sponge with the added experience of being a hard-luck street tough.
And that is the way the pale-faced Bobby Milk child running through Little Italy with suspicious associates turned into Robert De Niro, the person still forever referenced, imitated, and worshiped. The splatter-painted start, rebel school days, and wild raise all nourished the talent of acting with depth and soul. A family story turned into ticket-purchasing phenomenon. That’s an Oscar-worthy character development.