Alec Baldwin

In The Hunt for Red October (1990), Alec Baldwin makes us want to follow Jack Ryan's thinking. He gives an explanation with assurance, then leaves enough uncertainty for us to keep considering the problem. John McTiernan allows that process to occupy stretches another thriller might fill with movement. We were gripped by Ryan's attempts to understand Ramius, because Baldwin makes getting another man right feel urgent. He gives us someone worth listening to even before we know whether his judgement can be trusted.

Supporting parts in Beetlejuice, Working Girl and Married to the Mob (all 1988) preceded the leading role in The Hunt for Red October. That move makes sense on screen: Ryan has the assurance to carry a thriller without appearing to have solved it in advance. The film occasionally tests our patience with explanations and thin character writing, and Baldwin cannot supply everything the script leaves out. His uncertainty keeps us attending to the person doing the talking, even when the dialogue has more information to deliver than we need.

Glengarry Glen Ross (1992) puts his verbal force to more aggressive use. David Mamet's sharp, profane dialogue gives Baldwin's Blake the opportunity to make authority unpleasant, and the emphatic delivery fits. It also makes an easy shorthand for an actor who can do quieter thinking. As his career moved towards character parts, the risk was that certainty would become all a role required of him.

30 Rock (2006–13) found another use for it in network executive Jack Donaghy. With Tina Fey, the programme's creator and his co-star, Baldwin could put his comic timing to work within an ensemble. The smugness suits him, though we would be wary of treating it as the only thing worth asking him to play. His work with McTiernan gives us good reason to want more parts that leave him room to hesitate. Start with The Hunt for Red October, and watch how much he leaves Ryan still needing to work out.