AVQ&A: What’s your favorite debut feature from an actor turned director?

It’s almost a cheat to pick Laughton because his first at-bat was also his last. One of the great thespians and screen actors of his time, who immortalized Quasimodo and won an Oscar for Henry VIII, Laughton only directed one film, 1955’s Night Of The Hunter, his sterling debut and swan song. But his decision to take his ball and go home, though, only added to the otherworldly mystique of the film. It makes sense that Laughton pulled career-great performances out of Robert Mitchum, Shelley Winters, and Lillian Gish, but Hunter’s visual language is equally impressive. Shot by the great Stanley Cortez, the film’s beautiful black-and-white photography conjures a liminal space between dreams and nightmares, where every shot is as unique and unsettling as the menacing Preacher Harry Powell (Mitchum), who terrorizes a widow (Winters) and her children with unflappable charisma and wicked sense of humor. Every moment of Hunter feels like a memory, both specific and fantastical, giving the movie an allure that can’t be replicated. It’s alchemy. That Laughton never picked up the camera again makes Hunter’s legacy all the more bittersweet. It’s as if Orson Welles never directed after Citizen Kane. What could’ve been, we’ll never know, but what’s left behind abides and endures. [Matt Schimkowitz]

Before Rob Reiner was knocking out banger after banger every single year—the run of Stand By Me, The Princess Bride, When Harry Met Sally, and Misery still holds up as one of the most exceptional four years a mainstream filmmaker has had—he was an actor and writer, cutting his chops on classic comedy TV as he followed his father Carl Reiner’s footsteps. He and Steve Martin were writing partners for The Smother Brothers Comedy Hour, and he later became defined by his role as Meathead on All in the Family. It was All in the Family creator Norman Lear that gave Reiner, Michael McKean, Christopher Guest and Harry Shearer the cash to transform mockumentaries. This Is Spinal Tap kicked off Guest’s long satirical streak, brought musicians to their knees, and was so dedicated to its documentary aesthetic that it fooled a lot of people. It’s only because all of its punchlines have become so ingrained in our culture (and because every other sitcom has hopped on the mockumentary bandwagon) that revisiting it feels like watching something completely modern. That this was Reiner’s directorial debut is astonishing, but it’s similarly astonishing that he immediately changed filmmaking gears and was still great. Dropping the mic after making one of the most brutal and hilarious comedies ever made would’ve been completely understandable. But Reiner crushed it right out of the gate—taking the piss out of self-involved rockers, writing still-relevant quotes, changing how we all look at Stonehenge—and still wasn’t satisfied. It’s honestly taking all my willpower not to make my answer just a list of 11 Spinal Tap gags, but like Reiner, I will try my best to move forward. [Jacob Oller]

As its title might suggest, Violent Cop is a methodically brutal film, which makes it a surprising, if not revelatory, debut from comedian Takeshi Kitano. Before taking on directorial duties for Cop in 1989, Kitano had long been a comic institution on Japanese TV (back then, wider international audiences knew him from the 1983 war drama Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence). Violent Cop created new successes for ‘Beat’ as a performer and director. But Kitano’s first foray behind the camera is, for me, his most provocative, unforgettable work, a shaggy hangout movie with an unscrupulous police detective that spirals inevitably into a shocking finale that isn’t very funny at all. [Jerrod Jones]

Yes, Famous Hollywood Nice Guy Tom Hanks chose a Very Nice story for his feature directorial debut, producing one of the best bits of movie comfort food that the 1990s had to offer. But there’s more to this tale of a rock band who makes it big in 1960s Pennsylvania than glossy, upbeat pop vibes. The film’s visual style and sense of humor is always on point, to be sure, but it’s what Hanks is able to do with characters, particularly Tom Everett Scott’s Guy and Liv Tyler’s Faye, that makes That Thing You Do! stick. Throw in scene-stealing work from the great Steve Zahn, and one of film’s all-time great soundtracks (capped off by the late Adam Schlesinger’s flawless title song), and Hanks (who also wrote the script) became an instant multi-hyphenate hitmaker. [Matthew Jackson]

Todd Field today is much better known as a director than he ever was as an actor; his most famous roles were small parts in Twister and as the loose-lipped pianist Nick Nightingale in Eyes Wide Shut. But those roles were quickly eclipsed by In The Bedroom, Field’s quiet, literary-minded debut feature. Going into this movie with minimal knowledge—I knew it was set in my home state and dealt with grief—the end of the first act was genuinely shocking, completely reframing the story I thought I was sitting through. Not only is In The Bedroom well-composed visually and tonally, Field proved himself out of the gate as an actor’s director, bringing heavyweight performers Sissy Spacek, Tom Wilkinson, and Marisa Tomei to incredible (and Oscar-nominated) finish lines. While it may be easy to chalk the actors’ success to their own talent, this continued in Field’s later work (see: Cate Blanchett’s career-best performance in Tár). With a debut this strong, people just might forget you ever did anything else. [Drew Gillis]

Although everyone loves Good Night And Good Luck, history has largely forgotten George Clooney’s first swing at directing: 2002 Sam Rockwell “biopic” Confessions Of A Dangerous Mind. (The genre in quotes because even Gong Show creator Chuck Barris comfortably admitted that big chunks of his memoir, detailing his double life working as a CIA assassin in between creating TV shows, were amusing bullshit.) Working with a great performance from Rockwell, and an even better script from Charlie Kaufman—albeit not so great that he didn’t change chunks of it, to Kaufman’s considerable public annoyance—Clooney still manages to make something fun out of some very strange parts. [William Hughes]

Drew Barrymore has won many hats over the course of her long career, but in the early 2000s she briefly put on her director’s cap for the fun, competent Whip It. A movie made for the Juno era of quirky indie comedies (see: Elliot Page as the lead), Whip It had all the hallmarks of a coming-of-age classic. That, plus a stellar cast (which includes Page, Barrymore, Juliette Lewis, Kristen Wiig, Alia Shawkat, Ari Graynor, and Marcia Gay Harden), gave the movie some cool-girl credibility. Barrymore didn’t reinvent the wheel with her directorial debut, but it wasn’t a shallow vanity project, either. It’s fun, light, and genuinely enjoyable to watch, and showed promise for Barrymore’s directorial vision. Perhaps if the actor could get some time off from her eponymous talk show, she could get back to proving her chops behind the camera. [Mary Kate Carr]

Jordan Peele’s comedic flair was well-established by the time he made his directorial debut in 2017. Get Out successfully exhibits his humor—acerbic, direct, smart—and seamlessly weaves it with both horror and social commentary. Released during a critical political time, Get Out is trenchant because Peele’s vision as a filmmaker comes across confidently. He also brings out incredible performances from his entire cast, setting one hell of a precedent with his first film. And now, only a few years later, he’s already become a huge name in the genre with Us and Nope. I’m waiting with bated breath to see how he’ll wow me next. [Saloni Gajjar]

Before you jump down to the comments to argue, I am aware that Lady Bird wasn’t technically Greta Gerwig’s feature directing debut. She co-directed (and also co-wrote and starred in) Nights And Weekends along with Joe Swanberg in 2008. But Lady Bird was the first film she wrote and directed solo, and her singular creative voice shines through so clearly that it really should count as her debut. You can already see Gerwig’s talent for tapping into the hearts and souls of her characters in a way that makes their complex relationships feel very specific, yet totally relatable. And the performances she gets out of her cast are next level, particularly stars Saoirse Ronan and Laurie Metcalf. Their mother-daughter relationship, so fraught and loving and painfully authentic, is the secret sauce that makes the film work, and Gerwig makes the absolute most of every scene they’re in together. [Cindy White]