Elliott Gould vs. George Segal
Battle of the Droll Mensches

We have a hard time commenting on those performers for whom the bulk of the work they're best known for -- the biggest, fattest bulge in the bell curve of their professional life -- took place before we were born. We don't mean it's hard to talk about stars who are middle-aged or older; some of these -- Anthony Hopkins, Judi Dench, Gena Rowland, and the two fellows who occupied this space last time are all working more than they did when they were young. We mean it's hard to speak knowledgeably now about stars whose glory days are far behind them, and who, these days, are hovering perilously close to Personality status.

To move from the abstract to the particular, we don't feel entirely qualified to pass judgment on the careers of Elliott Gould and George Segal. It would be different, of course, if we were writing this article in 1971, when Gould was fresh off the twin successes of Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice and MASH, and Segal's Oscar nomination for Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? was still fresh in moviegoers' minds. However, in 1971, not only was this commentator three years away from being a glint in anyone's eye, but my own mother was still several years away from being old enough to see these or any other R-rated movies. At this point, all we can do is acknowledge our awareness that there was a time, many years ago, when George Segal and Elliott Gould were young, sexy Jewish hunks whose careers were vibrant and exciting. Or...you know, so we hear.

However much Gould and Segal may have distinguished themselves from one another back in the day, their contemporary paths seem to have criss-crossed at several points during my lifetime. While they've been duplicating one another's moves since the early '80s, appearing on Circus of the Stars (Gould in 1981, Segal in 1984), and since then, both seem to have accepted their lot and settled into what passes for dignified semi-retirement among celebrities. There are the film roles playing the main character's father (Gould in Kicking and Screaming, Segal in The Cable Guy and Flirting With Disaster). There are the uncredited cameos in artsy independent movies (Gould in The Big Picture, Segal in To Die For). There are ripped-from-the-headline TV movies (Gould in Conspiracy: The Trial of the Chicago 8, Segal in both The Making of a Hollywood Madam and The Good Doctor: The Paul Fleiss Story). And there are the TV roles playing good-natured if slightly loopy fathers on NBC sitcoms (Gould on Friends, Segal on Just Shoot Me).

Is it possible to break the deadlock? When each role seems to have its twin on the other side of the equation -- "Ezra" cancels out "Murray," "Henry Fine" matches up with "Bernie Goldstein," "Manny Gould" sees your "Harry Rosenthal" and raises you a "George Levine" -- how can one mellow, '70s-minted mensch assert his superiority over another?

One way is to play the ultimate movie Jew. Ocean's 11's Ruben Tischkoff, the former casino owner and heist financier, is less a character than a collection of Semitic stereotypes, from his gigantic eyeglass frames to his garish silk Versace swim-trunk-and-robe ensemble to his nouveau-riche New Jersey-style interior design scheme. Practically all we know about him is that he has a lot of money and little taste, and that he made his name in the '60s; he's old-school. George Segal probably could have played Ruben Tischkoff, but he didn't. Therefore...

Advantage: ...Gould.