When directors act: 10 memorable movies where filmmakers stepped in front of the camera

"What I'd really like to do is direct," the ambitious actor says — or maybe that's just a myth. The opposite, though, is definitely true: Many prominent directors have slipped into the spotlight for a walk on the wilder side. This week, Italian horror maestro Dario Argento takes a decidedly staid turn in Gaspar Noé's Vortex as an elderly writer whose wife is slipping into dementia. Leaving out the performances of directors appearing in their own films, we've assembled our favorite 10 turns.

Fritz Lang in <i>Contempt</i> (1963)

When you've made such silent-era landmarks as M and Metropolis, you're a walking symbol of artistic genius under siege. (Lang's dark pin-striped suit and imposing monocle didn't hurt either.) For this lushly romantic movie about moviemaking, director Jean-Luc Godard had Lang endure a torrent of abuse from pinheaded producer Jack Palance; elsewhere, the German legend flirts with Brigitte Bardot, because why not? — Joshua Rothkopf

John Cassavetes in <i>Rosemary's Baby</i> (1968)

Playing a wolfishly handsome actor dreaming (and scheming) for his big breakout role, Cassavetes is almost perfectly cast in Roman Polanski's baby-bump-in-the-night horror perennial. Part of what works so well is Cassavetes' suave urbanity: He's a believable husband to Mia Farrow's Rosemary, and so confident in his own talents that his betrayal lands like a slap. — JR

John Huston in <i>Chinatown</i> (1974)

He logged dozens of on-screen turns — even earning a Best Supporting Oscar nod for Otto Preminger's The Cardinal in 1964 — but the director of canonical films like The Maltese Falcon, The African Queen, and The Misfits found one of his most indelible roles in Polanski's classic neo-noir as a Los Angeles mogul with a cement-mixer baritone and a closet full of filthy family secrets ("My sister! My daughter!") — Leah Greenblatt

François Truffaut in <i>Close Encounters of the Third Kind</i> (1977)

Underrated for his instincts, not as a fantasist but as a realist, Steven Spielberg insisted on casting a Frenchman for a role based on the real-life UFO hunter Jacques Vallée. Truffaut was happy to oblige, supplying gap-mouthed wonderment on cue, and using his ample idle time in the trailer to write the script for The Man Who Loved Women. — JR

Tim Burton in <i>Singles</i> (1992)

Cameron Crowe's Gen X romance is so crazy on cameos (Eric Stoltz, Eddie Vedder, NBA power forward Xavier McDaniel) that it's easy to miss Burton's deliciously lurk-y, nearly wordless turn as a would-be auteur toiling away at a video-dating company ("Debbie, he is only like, the next Martin Scor-seez."). And the tiny film-within-a-film that follows is Burton-esque perfection: pure art-school kitsch with a chef's-kiss soundtrack. — LG

Martin Scorsese in <i>Quiz Show</i> (1994)

"Chill" is not a word that's generally applied to Mr. Mean Streets, but the famously loquacious director brings his resting pulse rate down to an unflappable simmer in Robert Redford's carefully meted tale of game-show charlatanism as a Geritol CEO with real-world lessons to teach Rob Morrow's morally pure lawyer. (Barry Levinson, who was somewhere between Bugsy and Wag the Dog at the time, pops in too). — LG

David Cronenberg in <i>To Die For</i> (1995)

Behind the camera, Cronenberg had already carved himself a gory niche as the dark prince of body horror via gross-outs like The Brood, Videodrome, and The Fly. Director Gus Van Sant used that rep to his advantage, casting the spooky-looking Canadian as a hitman with ice in his veins. His character, credited only as "Man at Lake," has just one scene, but Cronenberg makes it count. (Look out, Nicole!) — JR

Sydney Pollack in <i>Eyes Wide Shut</i> (1999)

The man behind The Way We Were and Out of Africa often popped up on the other side of the camera (see: Tootsie, Husbands and Wives, Michael Clayton), though he makes the most of a few brief scenes in Stanley Kubrick's final masterwork as a wealthy patient of Tom Cruise's Dr. Bill Harford who memorably schools him on the dynamics of power in a billiards-room scene so tense, even the balls on the table seem to be holding their breath. — LG

Tyler Perry in <i>Gone Girl</i> (2014)

You've seen him many times in full Madea dress, and in Don't Look Up as a news anchor blithely marching toward the end of the world. But as Tanner Bolt, the genial lawyer tasked with defending the seemingly undefendable, he brings loose-limbed style and levity to David Fincher's pitch-black thriller — a knowing, impeccably tailored foil to Ben Affleck's rattled pity-party "wife killer" Nick. — LG

David Gordon Green in <i>The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent</i> (2022)

Who's that hapless Hollywood type receiving the full brutal blast of an al fresco lunch-meeting audition from Nicolas Cage (or "Nick Cage") in the surreal meta-comedy currently in theaters, and glancing desperately at the exits while the unhinged actor monologues? That's Green, helmer of indie gems (All the Real Girls), weed-wreathed buddy comedies (Pineapple Express), and now three Halloweens, including this year's Halloween Ends. — LG

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