Two directors

An essay beautifully wrought. Manohla Dargis’ words delineated the actor as artist, and this is rarely done (“Blood Truths,� Oct. 12). She detailed Clint Eastwood’s work, starting with his directorial debut, “Play Misty for Me,� and could have ended there.

When I saw Mr. Eastwood’s first movie, I knew then he would be an icon if he did not let show business intrude. He hasn’t, and my applause continues.

I produced and directed a play at C. Bernard Jackson’s Inner City Cultural Center. A movie company had leased the theater across the hall from where my company was working, and the shoot was made a priority over my rehearsal. I was told to keep still while filming ensued. But hey ... who were they? I was doing theater. That was just another movie.

The movie director heard of my displeasure and walked across the hall to speak with me. He promised that the filming would not bother anyone beyond a certain time and was true to that. The tall, quiet man was Eastwood, and he directed this peeved fellow artist most gently. The film was “Bird.�

Peter DeAnda

Los Angeles