The Hollywoodland Revue

Illusions have always run deep in Hollywood. During the early decades of the twentieth century séance parlors popped up like popcorn stands at movie theaters, the golden age of spiritualism bringing hope no science could deliver. Dr. Edward Saint—magician, investigator, skeptic, and confidant to Harry Houdini—stood at the uneasy intersection of belief and exposure, a man determined not to destroy wonder, but to protect the living from deception masquerading as hope.

Steve Tracy breezed through Hollywood with starry charisma you don't have to squint to read: He was that kind of actor. Guys like him seem nervous when they're charming and kind when they're strong. He'll probably be remembered best as Percival Dalton, Nellie Oleson's shy bespectacled husband on Little House on the Prairie, a square of decency dropped right into the television show's big sky prairie storms. In Tracy's personal life, however, his journey would wind into another uniquely American narrative: the panic and misinformation of AIDS' early days when hysteria spread faster than understanding and kindness was considered political.

Eric William Dane, the American actor whose presence on both television and film combined charisma with emotional depth, died on February 19, 2026, at the age of 53 following a courageous battle with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), the neurodegenerative disease he publicly revealed in 2025 and used to fuel advocacy and awareness. His family confirmed that he passed surrounded by his loved ones — including his devoted wife, actress Rebecca Gayheart, and their two daughters, Billie and Georgia — and asked for privacy as they grieved.

This weekend’s slate offers an eclectic mix of heartfelt drama, edgy thrillers, international epics, and genre entertainment — something for every kind of moviegoer heading out to the cinema. Here’s a snapshot of the first seven films opening in theaters Friday, Feb. 20:

Long before Hollywood knew how to honor its legends, Madame Sul-Te-Wan made history by becoming the first African American actor to sign a motion picture contract—and then the first black actor to become a featured player at the very beginning of the industry. Born Nellie Crawford in Louisville, Kentucky on March 7, 1873, Sul-Te-Wan grew up in a nation still stumbling under Reconstruction and hard-set systems of segregation. By the time she moved to Los Angeles in 1913, moving pictures were barely an industry—and possibilities for women of color didn't really exist. But Sul-Te-Wan would work for over forty years, ranking among the most frequently employed African American actresses of her silent and early sound eras.

The Rev. Jesse Louis Jackson Sr. was born October 8, 1941, in Greenville, S.C. The architecture of his youth was segregation; the agony and promise of America raced through his young blood. Raised by his mother Helen Burns and later adopted by his stepfather, Charles Henry Jackson, young Jesse knew at an early age that dignity was something Americans had to earn and often barter for.

Before the Academy Award became that locked down, tracked and sacred cultural trophy, it was just a thing. Honorific. Symbolic. Sometimes achingly fragile. Perhaps no lost Oscar underscores this better than Hattie McDaniel's Missing Oscar. Gone With the Wind's Oscar plaque vanished without a trace. It was not the iconic golden statuette we know and love now, but the precursor plaques awarded to supporting actors (and actresses) during that period in time. It was history being made...and then it went mysteriously missing.

Robert Selden Duvall, the versatile American actor who charmed and captivated audiences with his sensitivity and intensity, died on February 15, 2026, at the age of 95. Duvall's six-decade career included memorable performances in films that ranged from Gregory Peck's faithful sidekick Boo Radley in To Kill a Mockingbird to leading roles like the Oscar-winning country preacher in Tender Mercies, and as the gravel voiced consigliere Tom Hagen in The Godfather films.

In the vast machinery of early Hollywood, where fame was fleeting and anonymity was the rule rather than the exception, Louis “Dad” Troester occupied a quiet but beloved corner of the film colony. Born August 7, 1856, in Bohemia, Troester came to motion pictures late in life, carrying with him the physical poetry of age—long white hair, a flowing beard, and the gentle authority of a man who looked as though he had lived many winters. It was an appearance that endeared him to audiences and children alike, and one that would ultimately define both his livelihood and his fate.

Some movies wow you with their technical prowess. Others sneak up on you and remake you: subdued works of art that know there’s something that can’t be said but won’t let you forget it either. Joachim Trier’s Sentimental Value is one of the latter. An exquisitely felt and fluidly beautiful family drama, the film explores the reverberations of emotional trauma across generations, how psychic pain is inherited and reformatted, beautified, and—occasionally—weaponized. The result is a moving, powerful film that doubles down on both sentiment and beauty.

Los Angeles in 1948 was selling dreams by the square foot. The war was over. Veterans were home. Hillsides were being carved into subdivisions. Real estate advertisements offered sunshine and citrus trees. Buy a house and you could look out toward tomorrow. If you had a decent job and a little bit of moxie, you could own a piece of the future. Gladys Eugenia Kern believed in the future.

If Hollywood has always sold itself as sunshine and reinvention, Scott Michaels has made a career out of documenting the shadows—the places where glamour curdled into scandal, where a final address replaced a marquee name, and where the city’s relentless appetite for myth often obscured what actually happened. Part historian, part storyteller, part showman with a librarian’s instinct for details, Michaels is best known as the founder and guiding voice of Dearly Departed Tours, the long-running Los Angeles excursion that treats “tragic history” not as cheap shock, but as a strange, revealing map of how fame and mortality intersect in this town.