The production of Goodfellas moved at a relentless, high-octane pace throughout the early weeks of 1989. While the "trio"—Alex, De Niro, and Pesci—formed the film's masculine core, the energy on set shifted significantly with the arrival of Lorraine Bracco.
Cast as Karen Hill, Bracco was a revelation. Before Goodfellas, she had spent much of the late '70s and early '80s living in France, working as a fashion model for Jean-Paul Gaultier and appearing in European films. Though she had a breakout role in Ridley Scott's Someone to Watch Over Me (1987), she was still a relatively fresh face to American audiences. Scorsese selected her specifically for her authentic Brooklyn roots and her fierce, vibrant energy. He didn't just want a "mob wife"; he wanted someone who could match the intensity of the men.
In the script, Karen Hill is a study of moral erosion. She begins as a sheltered Jewish girl from the Five Towns. However, the seduction of the lifestyle—the front-row seats at the Copa, the bundles of cash, the sheer power of being "someone"—slowly pulls her under. She doesn't just marry a gangster; she becomes his accomplice, seduced by the very danger she once feared. Bracco's performance was masterful, capturing that transition from an innocent woman to one hiding cocaine in her brassiere with chilling conviction.
************
February 15, 1989
Filming had pushed deep into February. On the morning of the 15th, the production took over the restaurant set used for some of the film's social scenes. The production cooks had prepared a massive spread of eggs, sausages, and strong Italian coffee for the key cast.
Alex sat at a circular table with Robert De Niro, Joe Pesci, Lorraine Bracco, and Martin Scorsese. A small television had been wheeled onto the set, tuned to the live feed where Anne Archer and Academy President Richard Kahn had just finished announcing the nominations for the 1989 Oscars, honoring the films of 1988, from the Samuel Goldwyn Theater.
Martin Scorsese had secured a Best Director nomination for the controversial The Last Temptation of Christ. It was a massive vindication for him, but even Marty was staring at the screen in disbelief at the sheer volume of Alex's involvement.
"Two for acting, one for Best Picture?" Scorsese laughed, his hands gesturing wildly. "You have done something impossible again."
The list was unprecedented. Four films Alex was involved in during 1988 received nominations. Rain Man had swept through nine nominations: Best Picture (Mark Johnson, Producer), Best Director (Barry Levinson), Best Actor (Dustin Hoffman), Best Supporting Actor (Alex Hayes), Best Original Screenplay, Best Art Direction, Best Cinematography, Best Film Editing, and Best Original Score.
Alex had achieved a double acting nomination in a single year for the second time, earning a Best Actor nod for the avant-garde Sex, Lies, and Videotape, which also earned Best Original Screenplay for Steven Soderbergh.
The partnership between Hayes Productions and Disney for The Princess Bride secured six nominations: Best Picture, Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Original Song, Best Costume Design, Best Cinematography, and Best Film Editing. Alex Hayes earning third nomination of the year as producer for The Princess Bride.
Finally, Hayes Productions' My Left Foot secured the prestigious "Big Five" sweep: Best Picture, Best Director (Jim Sheridan), Best Actor (Daniel Day-Lewis), Best Supporting Actress (Brenda Fricker), and Best Adapted Screenplay.
"Congratulations, Alex," Lorraine Bracco said, leaning over to squeeze his arm. "Double acting nominations? That's insane."
Joe Pesci looked up from his coffee, squinting. "Wait a minute, isn't this your second time doing the double-dip?"
"Yeah," Alex said, leaning back. He had done it first in 1987 for the 1986 film year.
"How many is that now?" Pesci asked. "Total?"
"Six," Alex replied simply.
At just twenty-five, Alex's Oscar pedigree was staggering: Best Actor for Catch Me If You Can, Platoon, and Sex, Lies, and Videotape; and Best Supporting Actor for The Color of Money, Moonstruck, and Rain Man.
Robert De Niro, who had been quietly eating, looked up with a smirk. "Six? Jesus, Alex. You've got more nominations than I do."
De Niro held four at the time: The Godfather Part II (Won Best Supporting Actor), Taxi Driver, The Deer Hunter, and Raging Bull (Won Best Actor).
"Well, you've got the wins, Bobby," Alex said, eating the last bit of his eggs and taking a long sip of his coffee. "That's what counts."
"You're only twenty-five," De Niro countered, pointing a fork at him. "The way you're going, who knows? Maybe you'll take one home this year. Or two."
Alex scoffed, shaking his head. "No way. Not this year. There are strong contenders in both categories."
Scorsese nodded in agreement. "He's right. Dustin Hoffman and Daniel Day-Lewis are the front-runners for Actor. Honestly, if My Left Foot had been held for next year, Dustin would be a lock for Rain Man. But Daniel... it's a transformative performance."
"And Kevin Kline is phenomenally funny in A Fish Called Wanda for Supporting Actor," Alex added, finishing his coffee.
"But haven't comedic performances historically struggled to get awarded?" Lorraine asked.
"Comedy is a tough hill to climb at the Oscars, but Kevin was perfect," Alex replied, finishing his coffee. He looked back at the screen as the news anchors began analyzing the nominations. "And most importantly, I am just 25 years old."
"And so what?" Lorraine asked.
"Because he is too young," Robert De Niro explained. "An actor—specifically a male actor—usually needs to be at least 30 before he is seriously considered for a win. I didn't get my first award until I was 31, and even then, it was because of the film's status and the weight of the performance."
"It's not the only way," Martin added. "Alex has six nominations now. If he gets one or two more, the Academy will eventually have to give him one just to appease the audience and maintain their own credibility."
Alex stood up, smoothing his suit. "Well, that's that. Come on, we have work to do. I'm hoping I'll get my seventh nomination next year. Who knows? Maybe next year will be my big year."
With that another day of filming started.
******
With the nominations officially announced, every film that scored major nominations saw a boost in earnings. Rain Man had grossed $212 million domestically by February and $195 million internationally as it expanded into more territories, bringing its global total to $407 million.
Sex, Lies, and Videotape, which had slowly expanded since January and was now playing in 350 theaters, had grossed $31.6 million before the announcement. Following Alex's Best Actor nomination, theaters expanded to 1,080 locations, pulling in an additional $6.8 million for the weekend of February 17–19. This brought its domestic total to $38.4 million.
Internationally, where such "European-style" dramas were popular, the film grossed $23.8 million, bringing its global box office to approximately $62.2 million. For a film with a $2 million budget, the return was astronomical.
Everyone involved in its production is happy with its success.
However, the success of Sex, Lies, and Videotape left Michael Ovitz at CAA fuming. Ovitz had been vehemently against Alex starring in the indie film, and its success made him lose face in the industry. He realized that if Ghost—Alex's directorial debut planned for a summer release—became a hit, Alex would be completely beyond his control. He knew Alex had taken that project specifically to prove Ovitz's vision was wrong.
To sabotage the film's launch, Ovitz used his immense influence to whisper in the ears of studio heads at Columbia and United Artists. He pressured them to shift their biggest "heavy hitters" into the same mid-summer window as Ghost, creating a theatrical bottleneck designed to starve Alex of screen space and box office oxygen.
Ovitz pushed for a July 30 release for The Karate Kid Part III , hoping the established, family-friendly franchise would dominate the youth demographic and leave Ghost—a genre-bending romantic thriller—without an audience.
In one of his more aggressive moves, Ovitz encouraged a July release for the latest James Bond installment Licence to Kill. He calculated that the sheer spectacle and international brand of 007 would crush any "artistic" directorial debut in its path.
Yet, no studio heads were foolish enough to bet against Alex, even on his directorial debut. After the $400 million success of Rain Man and the cultural explosion of The Princess Bride, betting against Alex Hayes seemed like a fast track to a bad fiscal quarter. So they vehemently rejected Ovitz's pressure.
Michael Ovitz realized that Alex had transcended the status of a simple star. Alex had achieved something nearly impossible : total independence. He no longer needed a powerful agent to find him scripts—the best writers in the world were now sending them directly to his production office . He didn't need a "package" to get financing; his name alone was enough to greenlight a project.
As the sun set over the CAA building in Beverly Hills, Ovitz realized that while he was still the most powerful agent in town, Alex Hayes was no longer playing in his league.