Welcome back to The Deep Dive. Our mission here,
as always, is to take these, you know, big careers,
concepts, crises, things that shape our world,
and really break them down. Get to the essentials.
It's those nuggets of knowledge. Exactly. And
today, we're tackling a huge figure. I mean,
an actor whose face, whose voice, you just know
him. Five decades of truly iconic stuff. Oh,
yeah. From those gritty New York sitcoms we all
remember. Right. To massive sci -fi blockbusters,
award -winning dramas. We are diving deep into
the career of Judd Seymour Hersh, a real multi
-platform master. And it's fascinating because
his career, it runs from, what, 1959 right up
to today. That's almost seven decades of staying
relevant, staying excellent. It's incredible.
And you realize pretty quick, this isn't just
about talent. though obviously there's immense
talent, but it's a masterclass in strategy. Professional
strategy, yeah. And versatility, endurance too.
Absolutely. So we're not just going to, you know,
read off a resume here. We're digging into the
how, the strategy behind it all. And our sources,
they really frame this perfectly. The Los Angeles
Times, they kind of nailed it, saying he's one
of those rare actors who just slips effortlessly,
you know? Effortlessly, yeah. That's the word
they use. From TV series to Broadway, then to
feature films and back again. And he's racking
up awards, great reviews, like everywhere he
goes. Right. So that idea, that effortless versatility.
Well, that's the challenge, isn't it? How do
you actually do that? How do you move between
these worlds that can be pretty unwelcoming to
outsiders? That's the core question. And for
you listening in this deep dive, it's really
about understanding how that kind of career longevity
gets built. It's often on a foundation that's,
well, surprising. Definitely surprising in this
case. Yeah. We're going to look past just the
famous roles, you know, Alex Reiger, Dr. Berger.
And look at the early choices, specifically this
kind of shocking educational path he took, because
that background, we think, is what really equipped
him to handle such different material, demanding
totally different things, you know, emotionally,
structurally. And to keep doing it at peak level
into his 80s and 90s, it's remarkable. OK, let's
unpack the starting point, because it really
does feel like the X factor, maybe, in his whole
professional approach. Judd Seymour Hersh, born
March 15th, 1935. New York City. The Bronx, specifically.
Right. The Bronx. Grew up between the Bronx and
Brooklyn, those kind of working class environments.
We know his family background father, Joseph
Sidney Hirsch, an electrician, German -Jewish
ancestry. Mother, Sally Kitsies, Russian -Jewish
ancestry. He's got a brother, Roland. Yeah, pretty
classic New York story for someone who ends up
on stage. Seems straightforward. Exactly. Seems
like a straight path to acting. But then you
look at his education. And the whole trajectory
just takes this sharp turn. It's a complete detour
from the expected narrative. Yeah. He graduates
DeWitt Clinton High School, 1952. Yeah. And then
instead of diving straight into acting school.
Which you'd expect. Right. He commits fully to
science, hard science. He gets a Bachelor of
Science degree in physics from City College of
New York. Physics. Physics. And that, I think,
is just crucial. It's a defining fact that shapes
everything that follows. A BS in physics. I mean,
wow. We're talking about an actor who later plays
these really convincing academic father figures,
right? Alan Epps in number threes, Alfred Hofstadter
in Big Bang Theory. But he wasn't just like researching
those parts. He actually lived in that intellectual
world first. And it wasn't just theory either,
was it? He actually worked as an engineer. He
absolutely did. Put it into practice. The timeline
here is really important. Before he even starts
formal acting studies, he does six months in
the Army Reserve as a surveyor. 1958, Fort Leonard
Wood. Surveying. Again, precision, detail. Exactly.
Laying groundwork, quite literally. And then
he works as an engineer for Wessinghouse, a huge
industrial company. Wow. So he's dealing with,
what, stress loads, calculations, efficiency,
very concrete observable systems. Right. His
formative professional years weren't spent emoting
on a stage. They were spent focused on verifiable
reality. Structure. Problem solving through logic.
OK, so that's the bit I'm trying to square. You've
got the emotional volatility, the inherent instability
of trying to make it as an actor, especially
back then, late 50s, early 60s. Right. And then
you've got the analytical certainty of an engineering
job at Westinghouse. I mean, they're worlds apart.
What drove that shift? Did the sources give any
hint of like an aha moment? The sources don't
really pinpoint one specific moment like a sudden
revelation, but the outcome. The fact that he
did make the switch suggests maybe a deep dissatisfaction
with the purely technical and a pull towards
something else. Towards observing people. Towards
the analytical observation of human behavior,
which when you boil it down is what great acting
is really about. He didn't just chuck his training
out the window. No. No, he repurposed it. He
found a new application for that analytical mindset.
Okay, repurposing. I like that. So he commits
to acting. He starts his formal training at HB
Studio in New York. That's legendary. Mm -hmm.
Uta Hagen, Meisner Techniques. Really rigorous
stuff. Deep commitment to emotional truth, but
also observation. And then he graduates in 1962
from the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. Another
powerhouse. Right. And this is where that connection
point really clicks, I think. What makes his
work different. Oh, so? Well, acting training.
Especially the kind he got. It demands intense
observation of human systems, right? Motivations,
reactions, flaws, defenses. Okay. And physics,
engineering. They demand intense observation
of mechanical or natural systems. Force, stress,
failure points, efficiency. I see where you're
going. The skill set is transferable. Exactly.
Both require intellectual rigor. Discipline preparation.
a commitment to understanding structure, whether
it's a bridge or a human psyche. So he doesn't
just feel the character's emotion. He builds
the character's internal structure, their logic,
their operating principles, how they defend themselves.
That feels right. When he plays Alex Riger, the
analytical cabbie, or Dr. Berger, the empathetic
psychiatrist, he's not just winging it, humanizing
them on the fly. He's presenting this logically
organized system of response. Which makes the
performances feel so grounded, so real. Precisely.
Look at his roles over the next, what, five,
six decades. He very rarely plays someone purely
chaotic or unthinking. There's almost always
a cerebral quality. a thoughtful foundation.
Even when he's dealing with aliens in Independence
Day? Even then. He's talking about the cosmos,
analyzing the threat, or the internal family
dynamics in ordinary people. It's always grounded,
structured. The physicist didn't vanish. He just
became the actor's silent partner. Kind of, yeah.
Making sure the performance was built solid and
that discipline, that structured approach, it
prepared him perfectly for arguably the most
demanding platform. The stage. Right, the stage.
It wasn't just a stepping stone for him, was
it? Or just a way to pay the bills between TV
gigs? You said it was a constant from 1959 right
through to today. Absolutely the bedrock. It's
core to his identity as an actor. You really
can't talk about Judd Hirsch without talking
about New York theater. Even though many people
probably know him best from TV or movies. For
sure. But the sources are clear. He made his
mark on Broadway and off -Broadway pretty much
right away. Became a critical favorite. long
before he was a household name. Got that serious
attention quickly, proving that, you know, the
intellectual rigor we talked about, it translated
directly into stage success. It really did. Yeah.
Let's track that early stuff, because it predates
the big national fame by a good decade. You've
got 1972, 73, he wins an Obie Award. Best performance
for the hot L Baltimore. An Obie! That's major
respect from the off -Broadway world, the really
serious theater folks. Exactly. Signals you're
the real deal. And it didn't stop there. Just
a few years later, in 1976, he lands a Drama
Desk Award. Outstanding featured actor in a play
for Knock Knock. Another big New York theater
award, showing he could handle featured roles,
leading roles. Right. He had range right from
the start. By the mid -70s, he wasn't just starting
out. He was an established, award -winning, dramatic
actor on the New York stage. It's just fascinating
context for when Taxi comes along later. He wasn't
some unknown kid they plucked from obscurity.
Not at all. He was a seasoned, disciplined, critically
acclaimed stage vet. And that stage work, that
discipline, it kept leading to bigger things.
Like more nominations. Yeah. Drama Desk Noms
for Chapter 2 in 78, Tally's Folly in 80. And
Tally's Folly also got him his first Tony nomination.
Best Actor in a Play. Wow. So he's getting nominated
for the top award on Broadway even before Taxi
really explodes. Mm hmm. And you got to think
about the sheer stamina involved doing those
roles eight times a week. Yeah. Night after night.
That's where that structural integrity, that
discipline really gets tested. OK, so even while
he's becoming this huge TV star, that dedication
to the stage just continues. Which brings us
to the really big ones. The two Tony Award wins
for best actor in a play. That solidifies him
as a true stage master. It really does. The first
win comes in 1986. He's starring as Nat in I'm
Not Rappaport. Ah, the Herb Gardner play. That's
the one. Celebrate a playwright. It's about these
two elderly guys just trying to survive, keep
their dignity on a... park bench in New York.
A lot of physical comedy in that one too, right?
Mixed with the deeper stuff. Absolutely. It demanded
that balance. And apparently he didn't just play
Nat, he inhabited him. So much so that he actually
reprised the role on stage again in 2002. Wow.
Nearly 20 years later. Almost two decades after
the original run. That tells you something about
his connection to the material and his confidence
in revisiting it. Yeah, that's not just replicating
a performance, that's evolving with it. Shows
real commitment to theater over just, you know,
chasing the next paycheck. What about the second
Tony? That came just six years later, 1992. And
it was another Herb Gardner play, interestingly.
Conversations with My Father. Another deep one.
Oh, yeah. Generational drama, really emotional.
Hirsch played the central character, Eddie, winning
two Best Leading Actor Tonys in different decades.
That puts him in very, very rare company. It
elevates him beyond just TV star or movie actor.
It is. True mastery of the craft. OK, I have
to ask, though, how does someone manage that?
The sheer grind of a leading Broadway role, eight
shows a week, Nat and Rappaport sounds exhausting
physically, emotionally. Right. How do you juggle
that with the completely different rhythm of
TV and film? You know, the short bursts, the
technical demands of hitting marks, playing the
camera. That's it. That's the central strategic
puzzle of his whole career, isn't it? Stage demands
absolute consistency. Peak performance every
single night. TV, especially those multicam sitcoms
he was so good at. Like Taxi. Yeah. That requires
instant timing. Nail the joke. React authentically.
But in these short takes, it's a different muscle.
So how did he switch between them so effectively?
I think it goes back to that physics background
again. That analytical ability to switch systems.
He could break down the technical requirements.
Stage. Projection. Pacing. Sustaining energy
over hours. Camera. Subtlety. micro -expressions
hitting that timing precisely. So he wasn't just
relying on instinct. He was analyzing the medium.
It seems like it. Most actors are naturally better
suited to one system or the other. Hirsch's discipline,
maybe that analytical grounding, allowed him
to optimize for both, often at the same time.
It makes a lot of sense. The stage was like his
lab for analyzing human behavior. Yeah, maybe.
And then he deployed those findings for a mass
audience on TV. And that moved to television.
It really picked up steam in the 70s. He was
popping up frequently, you know, building that
screen presence before the big breakout. Putting
in the work. Definitely. He did a full season
as Sergeant Dominic Dovecchio. In Del Vecchio,
that was a 76, 77. And he even snagged an Emmy
nomination really early in 1977 for a guest spot
on Rhoda. Okay, so he was already getting recognized
by the TV industry. But then came Taxi. The game
changer. Absolutely. Taxi ran 1978 to 1983. That
was the launch pad into genuine nationwide stardom.
He played Alex Riger, 114 episodes. Alex Riger,
such an iconic character. And the role just perfectly
leveraged that foundation we talked about. Alex
was the steady hand, right? The thoughtful, maybe
slightly world -weary one. The intellectual and
mature center in this whirlwind of comedic genius.
Yeah, surrounded by Kaufman, DeVito, Christopher
Lloyd, all these larger -than -life characters.
He was the anchor. He really was. And the industry
absolutely responded to that. The performance,
its depth. The awards just poured in. Nonstop,
basically. Pretty much. He won the Emmy for Outstanding
Lead Actor in a Comedy Series twice. Yeah. 1981
and again in 83. And nominated how many other
times? Nominated three other times for that Emmy.
79, 80, 82. So five nominations, two wins over
the five main seasons. That's incredible consistency.
Wow. And the Golden Globes recognized him too,
right? Oh, yeah. Five straight Golden Globe nominations
for Best Actor in a TV Series, Musical, or Comedy.
Every year. From 78 through 82. Nominated basically
every single year the show was eligible. That
just shows the level of respect. The industry
saw his performance as like the gold standard
for that kind of role. It really did. And here's
a cool little piece of trivia speaking of that
legacy. You know the movie Man on the Moon about
Andy Kaufman? Yeah. With Jim Carrey. Right. Hirsch
reprised Alex Riger for a little uncredited cameo
in that. Just a nod. Acknowledging how important
that show, those relationships were to TV history.
That's great. So Taxi ends in 83. He's got an
Oscar nomination by then, Tony nominations. You'd
think maybe he'd focus purely on film and stage
now, but nope, he pivots to Dear John. Right,
and that's where the strategy gets really interesting.
Dear John runs from 88 to 92. And here... He's
not the ensemble anchor anymore. No, he's the
title character, John Lacey. Exactly. Newly divorced
guy leading the support group. And structurally,
it was a much more, let's say, traditional multi
-camera sitcom than Taxi. Yeah, Taxi felt more
groundbreaking, maybe riskier. So I have to ask,
did critics see Dear John as maybe a safer move
or even like a step down after something as iconic
as Taxi? How did the sources frame that choice?
That's a fair question. And yet, some might have
seen it that way. But the sources, or how you
can interpret the move strategically, suggest
it was actually about demonstrating range, showing
he could carry a show entirely on his own shoulders.
Not just be the stabilizing force in an ensemble.
Precisely. And, hey, the results kind of validated
the choice, didn't they? He won the Golden Globe
for Best Actor for Dear John in 1988. Oh, right,
in that weird three -way tie? Yeah, with Michael
J. Fox and Richard Mulligan. Very unusual. And
he got nominated again the next year, too. So
it proved his star power wasn't just tied to
the taxi magic. He could deliver on his own.
Okay, that makes sense strategically. Prove individual
drawing power. Fast forward a bit more. He shifts
gears again. Completely leaves the sitcom world
for number threes. Number three, 2005 to 2010.
And here's a neat bit of symmetry. Number threes
also ran four. Guess how many episodes? No way.
114. Exactly. 114 episodes. Same as Taxi. Isn't
that wild? That is wild. And in number three,
he sees Alan Epps, the dad. The dad. Father to
an FBI agent and a math professor. So he's back
in that wise, supportive, patriarch role. But
this time, he's bridging the intellectual world
of math. Which connects back to his own background.
Right. And the emotional chaos of solving crimes.
It brings his own science roots right back into
the performance in a really direct way. Full
circle. And he kept taking these kinds of long
running supporting roles, didn't he? Showing
incredible relevance across different generations
of viewers. Totally. Look at the variety later
on. He does the recurring pop pop role on the
Goldbergs. Yeah. That ran forever, 2015 to 2023.
Just comfortable, funny, family sitcom stuff.
And then for a totally different audience, 2016,
he pops up on The Big Bang Theory. As Leonard's
dad, Dr. Alfred Hofstadter. Another scientist.
Again, playing that intellectual, maybe slightly
emotionally distant father figure, bringing that
physics background right into the show's subject
matter. Amazing. But then he pivots again to
something much darker. Well, before the really
dark stuff, he did Superior Donuts on CBS, series
regular, even a producer on that one. Played
Arthur Przybysewski. That was 34 episodes, 2017
-18. More comedy. Okay. But then hunters. Then
hunters, yeah. Amazon Prime Video 2020 to 2023.
And here he's playing Simon Wiesenthal, the actual
historical Nazi hunter. Wow. Talk about range.
Going from Pop Pop Goldberg to Simon Wiesenthal
in a prestige drama. That's the versatility we're
talking about. It's definitive proof. It shows
he never got stuck, never got comfortable or
typecast, always challenging himself, keeping
the work fresh. And he's still doing TV work
now. Yep. Recently appeared with Linda Lavin
in a 2025 project called Mid -Century Modern.
So what this whole TV segment really shows is
how he used the medium strategically. For visibility,
sure. Financial stability, probably. Which then
maybe gave him the freedom for stage and selective
film work. Exactly. It allows him to prioritize
those other platforms when the right project
comes along. Okay, let's pivot now to the big
screen, film. For a lot of actors, that's the
ultimate goal, right? Hollywood. But for Hirsch,
it feels like his film choices were, I don't
know, more targeted. Strategic? Highly strategic
seems right. Used either for major critical impact
or later on for real commercial reach. And that
first big critical impact came surprisingly early
in his screen career. Ordinary People. Ordinary
People, 1980. Robert Redford's directing debut.
Heavy stuff, family tragedy, grief. And Hirsch
plays Dr. Tyrone C. Berger, the psychiatrist.
Such a key role in that film. So empathetic.
Absolutely central. And the film itself, massive
critical hit. wins Best Picture. And for Hirsch,
Oscar nomination, first one. First Academy Award
nomination, Best Supporting Actor, plus a Golden
Globe nomination for the same role. Okay, think
about that timing again. 1980, he is smack in
the middle of Taxi Mania, huge TV comedy star.
Right, riding that wave. And yet he delivers
this incredibly grounded, sensitive performance
in a major, serious drama, and boom, instant
recognition from the Academy as a serious film
actor. It's remarkable. He wasn't just dabbling.
He was excelling at the highest level in completely
different genres on different platforms, basically
at the same time. That must have opened a lot
of film doors in the 80s. It did. The sources
mentioned a string of interesting roles. Without
a Trace in 83, Teachers in 84, he worked with
Sidney Lumet on Running on Empty in 88. Great
film. With River Phoenix, yeah. Often playing
these intelligent characters, authority figures
sometimes, choosing roles with substance. But
then came the shift towards, well, towards blowing
things up. Independence Day. Huh. Yeah. Then
came the aliens. Independence Day, 1996. Playing
Julius Levinson. Jeff Goldblum's quirky dad.
David's dad. You didn't call, you didn't write.
Exactly. And that role, pure fun, right, but
strategically brilliant. It made his face instantly
recognizable to a massive global audience, a
whole new generation who maybe never saw Taxi.
Cemented him in pop culture. Just a huge commercial
hit. Massive. And he showed loyalty to it, too,
coming back 20 years later for the sequel, Independence
Day. Resurgence in 2016. Wow. 20 years for that,
too. Yeah. But he kept balancing the blockbusters
with prestige stuff, like appearing in A Beautiful
Mind. Ron Howard film won Best Picture in 2001.
Right. He played Dr. Hellinger. And got a Screen
Actors Guild nomination for Best Cast for that.
So staying involved in award -worthy films. And
he kept working with really interesting contemporary
filmmakers too, right? Even well into his 70s
and 80s, staying relevant. Incredibly relevant.
Worked with Noah Baumbach on the Meyerowitz stories
in 2017. And then the Safdie brothers. Uncut
Gems. He played Gooey. What a stressful movie.
Intense. But these later supporting roles, they
aren't just jobs. They feel like strategic choices.
Placing himself alongside the cutting edge of
modern cinema. Keeping his name in the conversation.
But the biggest thing recently, the thing that
just blows my mind in terms of longevity, is
that return to the Oscars in 2022. Ah, yes. The
Fablemans. This is where the story becomes truly
legendary. Playing Boris Podgorny, the great
uncle, in Spielberg's very personal film. And
that performance nets him his second nomination
for Best Supporting Actor. Okay, put this record
in perspective for us. Right. So, first off,
he's 87 years old when he gets this nomination.
That makes him the second oldest acting nominee
in Oscar history. Just incredible, sustained
talent right there. Monumental. But the record
he broke, it's just staggering. It's the longest
gap between Oscar nominations for any actor.
How long? 42 years. 42 years. Between Ordinary
People in 1980 and The Fablemans in 2022. 42
years. That is, I mean... Unbelievable. Does
the source material offer any insight? Like,
how do you stay relevant and working at that
level for four decades in Hollywood? Was it just
luck? Spielberg remembered him? Well, luck probably
gets your foot in the door for an audition, maybe.
But 42 years of consistent, disciplined work
across stage, TV and film. That's what makes
you ready when Spielberg calls. So it wasn't
luck. It was preparation meeting opportunity.
That's what the sources imply. Spielberg was
making this deeply personal film. He needed someone
with real gravitas, proven depth. Hirsch wasn't
just a celebrity. He was an actor with that undeniable
structured integrity we keep coming back to.
And the nomination wasn't just a legacy nod either.
He got other recognition for it, right? Oh, yeah.
He won an AARP Movies for Grownups Award for
Best Supporting Actor, got nominated by the Critics'
Choice, Screen Actors Guild for the cast. The
recognition was widespread. It was a genuinely
acclaimed performance. And he's still going,
still making movies. Still going strong. Sources
mention upcoming films, rally caps in 2024, then
Fantasy Life and Stay Forte slated for 2025.
Maintaining that critical relevance, that commercial
viability for over half a century. It really
is a career strategy worth studying. So before
we kind of wrap this all up and synthesize the
big picture, it's probably worth just briefly
touching on his personal life, which ran in parallel
to all this professional activity over those
same decades. Right. Just for context, he was
married first to Elisa Sedan, 1963 to 67. They
had a son, Alex, then his second marriage to
Bonnie Sue Chalkin, a fashion designer. That
was 92 to 2005. And from that marriage, a daughter,
Montana, and another son, London. And he's currently
married to his third wife, actress Catherine.
and Danielle Hirsch. They married in 2020. So,
you know, personal change is happening alongside
all these professional shifts and successes.
Yeah, life happens alongside the career. But
if we pull back now and look at the hard data.
The awards, the accolades. This is where the
main takeaway about his career just becomes crystal
clear. Judd Hirsch's career basically laughs
in the face of categorization. It really does
defy the usual boxes, doesn't it? That's the
analytical paradox here. He's a master of different
genres, excelling at opposite ends of the spectrum.
Exactly. Think about it. He won two Emmys and
a Golden Globe. All for comedy or dramedy series.
Taxi, Dear John. That's where his big TV awards
came from. Right. Recognized for being funny,
for landing those comedic moments. This. His
major awards for stage and film. The two Tonys,
the two Oscar nominations. All came from intensely
dramatic, serious roles. I'm not Rappaport. Conversations
with My Father. Ordinary People. The Fablements.
That is wild. Comedy wins on TV. Drama wins on
stage and film. That dual excellence. achieving
the absolute peak in both. That is incredibly
rare. Most actors get pigeonholed, right? The
comedian struggles to be taken seriously in drama
or the serious dramatic actor seems stiff in
a comedy. But he just moved between them seamlessly.
Seamlessly. Not just between stage, film, and
TV, but between lightness and darkness, levity
and seriousness. often in the same year. And
maintaining that versatility across seven decades.
It has to come back to that foundation, doesn't
it? That structure. I think so. That structured
approach to performance he maybe learned or at
least honed through that physics background.
Taking the analytical precision of science and
applying it to the messiness of human behavior.
Yeah. Creating performances that felt both emotionally
true and logically sound, which allowed him to
pivot between genres, between platforms, without
ever seeming lost or out of his depth. So just
to nail down the final tally, the scope of his
success, the Nuggets. The Nuggets. Okay. Two
Tony Awards for Best Actor in a Play Mastery
of the Stage, two Primetime Emmy Awards, and
one Golden Globe Award, Sustained Excellence
in Television Comedy, and two Academy Award nominations
for Best Supporting Actor, including that record
-breaking gap, proving cinematic longevity and
impact. That list, it's just undeniable proof.
Unparalleled multi -platform artistry. Hashtag,
tag, tag, tag, outro. Wow. Okay, so this deep
dive into Judd Hirsch's career. It really does
reveal this powerful lesson, I think. Something
that goes way beyond just acting or Hollywood
glamour. The key takeaway feels like. The strategic
power of having some kind of rigorous foundational
discipline, something maybe even unrelated to
your main goal. In his case, that analytical
background from physics and engineering. Absolutely.
That foundation gave him this disciplined, structured,
focused way of working. And that's what let him
slip so easily between these incredibly different
genres, different production styles, different
demands. He wasn't just winging it, relying on
emotion alone. No, he relied on structured preparation.
methodical work. And that's what kept his career
so vibrant, so critically acclaimed, so... Well,
fresh, right into his 80s and 90s, still winning
awards, still relevant. So if you're listening
out there, maybe you're thinking about a big
change yourself, a professional pivot, maybe
from something technical to something creative
or the other way around. Yeah. Think about the
skills you already have, the discipline skills
from your current field, even if they seem totally
unrelated to where you want to go next. How could
they be repurposed? Right. Because if a background
in physics and engineering could somehow be the
secret sauce. the structural key for Judd Hirsch
to become one of the most respected actors across
stage, film, and TV. And we have to ask. What
seemingly unconnected skill, what discipline
or training that you have might be the hidden
key to unlocking your next big professional adventure?
Something to chew on. Thanks for joining us on
The Deep Dive.