Transcripts:
Be back in five minutes. Yes, sir. of death. In the mid1 1980s, two actors were rising through Hollywood with remarkably similar energy. Both radiated warmths. Both played the charming, downto- earthth guy next door. Both seemed incapable of being anything other than genuinely likable on screen. Their names were Tom Hanks and Steve Gutenberg.
Today, one is considered among the greatest actors of his generation with two Oscars and unshakable A-list status. The other effectively vanished from cinema screens by the mid '90s. They had the same appeal, similar opportunities and similar potential. But there was one thing Steve Gutenberg wouldn't do.
One line he refused to cross. This is the story of how that decision shaped everything that followed. Let's fade to black. Steve Gutenberg grew up on Long Island, where as a teenager he got the acting bug, but he wasn't a natural. There were much more charismatic guys than me, he'd later admit. He was relegated to supporting roles in high school productions, learning the craft from the sidelines.
He did land a small role in an off Broadway production of The Lion in Winter, and he spent a summer at Giuliard studying under John Hman. But still, I guess it's just luck that you get chosen, he once said. And that word luck would become a recurring theme. Behind him stood his father, Stanley, a former Army Ranger with the 82nd Airborne Division and a New York City policeman.
A man who could have been intimidating, but chose to be something else entirely. My dad and his dad weren't close. Gutenberg would later recall, "My grandfather was cold. He wasn't a kissing, hugging type of dad to my father. So my dad was the opposite. Stanley was a hands-on father, always there at the end of the day, never going out with the boys.
When 17-year-old Steve told his parents he wanted to move to Los Angeles to become an actor, he expected resistance. Instead, his father sat at the foot of his bed the next morning with a simple message. Good choice. And let's see what happens next. That's the excitement of life. What's next? In 1976, fresh out of high school, Gutenberg made the leap.
He moved to Los Angeles with $300, salami from his mother, and his father's briefcase. His parents gave him two weeks to find work. He made the deadline. Within 2 weeks, he'd landed a Kentucky Fried Chicken commercial playing opposite Colonel Sanders himself. But Goodenberg didn't stop there.
He'd sneak onto studio lots, Paramount, Universal, 20th Century Fox. There was no computer. There were no cell phones. There was just a guard with a telephone, he recalled. He'd punch a blank time card like the other employees and walk right past security. From there, he'd call agents and producers, pitching himself for auditions. The hustle worked.
He landed small roles, a TV movie called Something for Joey in 1977, then the lead in The Chicken Chronicles, a high school sex comedy that flopped. But he kept working and somewhere along the way, he picked up an agent. Then one day, out of the blue, that agent called with a role that would change everything.
The Boys from Brazil, a thriller based on the Ira Levven bestseller. At 20 years old, Steve Gutenberg would be acting opposite Lawrence Olivier, Gregory Peek, and James Mason. I always find the more successful the actor, the nicer they are, the sweeter they are, the more understanding they are. These three guys, these monsters were just fantastic to me.
Steve Gutenberg was building not just a career, but a philosophy. Then came 1982. Barry Levenson's Diner featured an ensemble cast including Mickey Rook, Daniel Stern, and Kevin Bacon. Gutenberg landed Eddie Simmons by opening up about his own long-distance relationship. The vulnerability gave the character authenticity.
He wasn't just goofy, he was very sweet, smart, and insecure. The studio nearly sheld it until Levenson secretly showed it to critic Pauling Keel, who loved it. This was one of those magic lucky times when a reviewer can actually change the course of a film's destiny. Gutenberg wrote in 1983 he starred in The Day After, an ABC movie about nuclear war.
Over 100 million people watched. President Reagan watched it. Sparked national debates. Steve Goodutenberg proved he could work with very serious and dramatic material. Then came 1984 and everything exploded. Gutenberg wanted to work with Ron Howard on Splash, but got turned down. The role went to Tom Hanks.
Ironically, Police Academy producers had wanted Hanks for the lead role that eventually went to Gutenberg. It was a runchy, R-rated comedy about misfits and weirdos joining the police force, complete with sound effects guy Michael Winslow, the aggressive Tackleberry, and the lovable giant High Tower. At the center of the chaos was Gutenberg's Carrie Mahoney, a street smart troublemaker forced into the academy as an alternative to jail time. He was the relatively normal guy.
The audience's guide through the lunacy, equal parts charming and irreverent. Critics absolutely hated it. Roger Eert gave it zero stars, calling it spectacularly awful. But audiences couldn't get enough, myself included. Police Academy became the sixth highest grossing film of 1984, spawning a massive franchise.
Gutenberg actually turned down the role of Venkman in Ghostbusters for Police Academy. He returned for Police Academy 2, three, and four, cementing himself as the face of the series before wisely stepping away to avoid being trapped in Mahoney's uniform forever. But 1985 brought something completely different and arguably his best film.
Ron Howard's Cocoon was a prestige science fiction drama about a group of elderly residents at a Florida retirement community who discover a pool that makes them young again. Thanks to alien cocoons hidden at the bottom, a charter boat captain who stumbles into this extraordinary situation and falls for an alien named Kitty played by Tarnie Welch.
The film paired him with Hollywood royalty. Donamichi, Wilfford Brimley, Hume Cronin, Jessica Tandee, Morin Stapleton. These weren't just actors, they were legends, and Gutenberg held his own, bringing his trademark warmth to a story about mortality, love, and second chances. Cocoon was both a critical and commercial success, earning over $85 million and winning two Academy Awards.
The following year came short circuit and Gutenberg became a hero to an entire generation of kids. As Newton Crosby, a robotics engineer whose military creation number five gets struck by lightning and become sentient. Gutenberg delivered pure uncomplicated charm. The film had everything. Humor, heart, a robot learning about being alive by watching Three Stooges shorts and reading philosophy.
Number five is alive became a catchphrase. Kids wanted their own Johnny 5. And at the center of it all was Gutenberg's Newton, a genius who'd rather create than destroy. A man whose decency matched his intellect. Short Circuit grossed over $40 million and became a cable TV staple, playing endlessly throughout the late 80s and '90s.
For millions of people, Steve Gutenberg wasn't just a movie star. He was part of their childhood. But 1987 would be his absolute peak. First came the bedroom window, a stylish Hitchcockian thriller directed by Curtis Hansen. Gutenberg played Terry Lambert, a man who witnesses a crime through his lover's window and gets entangled in a web of lies, danger, and obsession.
It was darker, sexier, and more complex than anything he'd done before. Critics who dismissed him just as a comedy guy suddenly took notice of him. Fans still call it his most underrated performance, and they're not wrong. It showcased a dramatic range that Hollywood would criminally underuse. Then came the phenomenon Three Men and a Baby alongside Tom Silicon and Ted Dansen.
Guttenbo played Michael Kellum, one of three bachelors in New York whose lives are turned upside down when a baby is left on their doorstep. The film was a masterclass in fish out of water comedy, watching these three confirmed playboys attempt to change diapers, warm bottles, and deal with a crying infant while maintaining their careers and social lives.
The chemistry between the three leads was electric and select brought the authority dance and the neurotic energy and Gutenberg the heart. The film was sweet without being saccharine, funny without being crude. It struck a perfect chord with audiences. Three Men in a Baby became the highest grossing film of 1987, earning over 167 million domestically, outperforming Fatal Attraction, Beverly Hills Cop 2, Lethal Weapon, and even Robocop. It was a cultural event.
Everyone saw it. Everyone quoted it. Steve Gutenberg was officially a movie star. He even returned for the 1990 sequel Three Men and a Little Lady, which while not as beloved as the original, still performed respectably at the box office. And then there was 1988's High Spirits, a supernatural comedy set in an Irish castle where Gutenberg played Jack Crawford, an American tourist who encounters actual ghosts while staying at a supposedly haunted hotel.
Directed by Neil Jordan and co-starring Daryl Hannah, Peter Oul, and Liam Niss, the film was a chaotic mix of slapstick and romance. While it didn't match his previous successes, it showcased his ability to dive into oddball projects and work with interesting filmmakers. By the end of the decade, Steve Gutenberg had appeared in some of the most successful and beloved films of the 1980s.
He was everywhere on magazine covers, talk shows, movie posters. His face was as recognizable as any star in Hollywood. Yet, even in these successes, something curious was happening. When people talked about Police Academy, they remembered the sound effects guy. When they discussed Cocoon, they praised the elderly cast.
Short Circuit belonged to Johnny 5. Three Men in a Baby was an ensemble piece. Gutenberg was always the nervous guy, the nice guy, the guy who held it all together. There was a squeaky clean quality to him that wasn't manufactured. It was genuinely who he was. In a 1988 interview, he admitted that unlike his three men in a baby co-stars Ted Danson and Tom Celich, he wasn't much of a partier.
My idea of a good time was watching sports and eating pizza. Ted and Tom are older than I am, but in actuality, I felt the oldest. He knew his reputation and he owned it. I don't feel cornered by being Mr. Nice Guy at this point in my career. Being Mr. Nice Guy got me where I am now. When the '90s arrived, Hollywood's ecosystem changed fundamentally.
Gutenberg's inoffensive liability lost currency overnight. Edgier, more complicated protagonists were in. He turned to family films like Zeus and Roxan and comedies like It Takes Two. He directed the 2002 adaptation of PS Your Cat Is Dead. Nothing caught fire. While colleagues like Dansen, Celic, and Howard continued thriving, Gutenberg became a punchline, shorthand for dated 80s artifacts, his most memorable 21st century role, playing a dopey version of himself on Party Down.
He competed on Dancing with the Stars, appearing in sci-fi movies like Laval Lantel and Shark Nato 4, celebrations of his pop culture punchline status. He did play a pedophile on Veronica Mars, someone who I despise, he'd noticed, relishing the darkness, but he acknowledged his reluctance to go to dark hurt him professionally. I like being nice, but as an actor, people mistake niceness for weakness of your character.
Through it all, Stanley, his father, remained his anchor. Then Stanley was diagnosed with kidney failure. Steve began driving 400 miles from LA to Phoenix every week for his father's diialysis treatments. "My dad was always there for me," Steve reflected. "I was in love with my dad. He was my best friend.
" Stanley died in July 2022 at age 89. Steve was holding him, doing CPR, unable to accept it. I probably let him go a year later. It's hard to believe that he's gone. Steve poured his grief into Time to Thank Caregiving for My Hero and created a one-man play Tales from the Gutenberg Bible. When I perform this play, I'm talking to my dad, he says.
Despite his bond with Stanley, Steve never became a father himself. Today, Steve Gutenberg lives in Pacific Palisades in California, the same community for 37 years. He was married to CBS reporter Emily Smith from 2019 until a divorce in 2025. When devastating wildfires tore through the Palisades in January 2025, Steve jumped into action.
As nearly 200 drivers abandoned cars, fleeing flames on foot, he moved vehicles, cleared paths for emergency vehicles, and helped neighbors evacuate. On Instagram, where he has nearly 500,000 followers, his bio reads, "Actor, writer, sandwich maker." His posts are thoughtful musings on life, kindness and gratitude, quintessentially Gutenberg.
Even digitally, he's still the nice guy, except it's not an act. I don't believe it ever was. You should check him out on there. It's genuinely heartwarming. There are 10 actors that can play every role. Tom Celich could have played Indiana Jones. Silence of the Lambs was developed for Gene Hackman. A great character is a great character, and I just think it is sort of how the gods go.
Goodenberg made peace with Fortune's ficklessness. He recognized his rise was fueled by being in the right place at the right time by luck as much as talent. That understanding freed him. When Hollywood moved on, he didn't take it personally. The light was simply now shining on someone else. He kept acting when projects interested him, unburdened by the need to reclaim glory.
He wrote books, performed on stage, and shared wisdom with nearly half a million people online. Today, Steve Gutenberg is 66 years old. He's still, by every account, exactly as gracious as he appeared in those 80s films. His father taught him that life's excitement lies in what comes next. Steve has lived that philosophy for nearly five decades, never clinging to what was, always open to what might be.
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