Paul Newman’s best-known roles were like photographic negatives to his true, almost-supernatural talent, offering insightful — if not fleeting — glimpses to the man within. As if usurping and upending Plato’s allegory of the Cave, he cast celluloid shadows of himself that were poignant representations of the intensely private person that lay within the physical manifestation of the second coming of the Greek god Adonis. Because in rare — you can count them on one hand — instances in cinematic history have physical beauty, preternatural talent, intellect and moral conscience combined so transcendently. He did his finest work in four films: as ‘Fast’ Eddie Felson in the pool-hall retelling of the Hubris myth, The Hustler; as the deliciously self-obsessed and unrepentantly callous Hud Bannon in the eponymous Western Hud; and as America’s greatest extrapolation on the postwar Ionesco-type existential antihero in Stuart Rosenberg’s incredible Cool Hand Luke. And yes, he was one part of the greatest buddy movie/love triangle of all time, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.