Renowned for his populist filmmaking, the late Rob Reiner crafted some of the most beloved movies in cinema history, a feat few directors can claim. His diverse filmography, including classics like This Is Spinal Tap, When Harry Met Sally…, The Princess Bride, and Stand By Me, showcases his ability to engage audiences across genres. Whether through the comedic lens of a mockumentary, the charm of a romantic comedy, the whimsy of fantasy, or the nostalgia of a coming-of-age drama, Reiner consistently delivered crowd-pleasers. Even beyond this iconic ’80s quartet, his career would be noteworthy, particularly for his adept direction of Aaron Sorkin’s screenplays in A Few Good Men and The American President.

Reiner’s work with Sorkin aligns him with filmmakers like David Fincher and Danny Boyle, who skillfully adapted Sorkin’s scripts for The Social Network and Steve Jobs, respectively. Sorkin’s external perspective on the tech industry, coupled with his absence from the director’s chair, allowed for a balanced collaboration that avoided the pitfalls of self-indulgence. However, Sorkin’s true passion lies in exploring themes of idealism and moral integrity in political narratives.

Reiner shared this enthusiasm, often vocalizing his political stance during times when many in Hollywood chose silence, notably during Donald Trump’s presidency. His genuine commitment to social causes lends a deeper authenticity to The American President, which serves as a precursor to The West Wing. Reiner’s experience with screwball comedies, evident in films like The Sure Thing and When Harry Met Sally…, infused The American President with a light-hearted touch, even amidst its more serious moments. Michael Douglas stars as President Andrew Shepherd, a character reminiscent of a more idealized Bill Clinton—liberal yet untarnished, engaging in a romance with lobbyist Sydney Ellen Wade (Annette Bening) not out of subterfuge, but as a widowed single father.

Reiner was undoubtedly drawn to Sorkin’s idealistic vision, yet he imbued it with a classic 1940s cinematic sheen absent from his earlier comedic attempt, North. The film, often regarded as a misstep, lacked the finesse found in The American President, which gracefully navigates political satire and the challenges of passing significant legislation. Its standalone nature allows audiences to relish its optimistic perspectives on public support for progressive policies, despite Sorkin’s self-referential nods to its whimsical Capraesque elements.

Douglas and Reiner’s collaborative success continued beyond this project, as did Reiner’s work with Jack Nicholson, who delivered a memorable performance in Reiner’s other Sorkin adaptation, A Few Good Men. This legal drama, based on Sorkin’s play, features Tom Cruise as Daniel Kaffee, a seemingly indifferent military lawyer defending two Marines accused of accidental manslaughter. Encouraged by co-counsel Joanne Galloway (Demi Moore) to pursue a trial, Kaffee confronts Nicholson’s character in a climactic courtroom battle, immortalized by the line, “YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!”

A Few Good Men and The American President have so much star power – Michael J. Fox, not too far removed from his Back to the Future days, has a supporting role in the latter, while the former features Kevin Bacon, Kevin Pollak, and Kiefer Sutherland in its supporting cast – that radiates with such seeming ease that it might be tempted to wonder if the movies directed themselves. That was, in fact, the old joke that resurfaced at the Academy Awards where A Few Good Men was nominated for Best Picture, alongside Best Supporting Actor (for Oscar fave Nicholson), Best Editing, and Best Sound Mixing. Nothing for Sorkin – and nothing for Reiner, edged out by Robert Altman, whose industry satire The Player missed Best Picture but garnered him his first Oscar nomination in years.

Hard to argue against Altman, for sure. But A Few Good Men is exactly the kind of popular entertainment that Hollywood has willed itself to forget in the past few decades, and if Reiner never fancied himself a visually distinct stylist – you could never recognize a moment in one of his movies from the camera movements or the rhythm of the editing – he sure could polish the hell out of a deliciously talky but potentially stagy screenplay. Watch that famous confrontation scene again, a consider, in the lead-up to Cruise and Nicholson going at it, how many reactions Reiner has to juggle: not just his two biggest stars, but Moore, Pollak, Bacon, Wolfgang Bodison and James Marshall as the defendants, and J.A. Preston as the judge. He surveys all of them without stalling the momentum of the scene, and knows precisely when to let those reaction shots drop away, to hold on the volleying between Cruise and Nicholson.

Maybe Sorkin could have directed these movies himself and the combination of his dexterous dialogue and exceedingly well-cast ensembles would have brought them home. But based on Sorkin’s self-directed movies, no less saturated with great actors, I’d say Reiner was bringing a genuine sense of craft to these movies, just as he did with the other movies in his peak-period run of crowdpleasers. Similarly, it’s entirely possible that Christopher Guest could have done This Is Spinal Tap pretty well, or that Frank Oz could have had fun with The Princess Bride. It’s harder to think of someone else who could have done all those, plus these Sorkin scripts, and made such unobtrusive classics of them – movies that audiences seemed to love organically, without obvious goading. Reiner’s talents weren’t always enough for movies where the script wasn’t quite there. But in an industry that treats “storytelling” with nauseating loftiness, Reiner seemed to truly understand the power of it, especially as a narrative device. His best movies (and some of his lesser ones, too) are full of characters telling each other stories, whether it’s the suburban legends of Stand By Me, the meta-fairy-tale narrative of The Princess Bride, or the political speechifying of The American President, where characters labor over phrasings and cut paragraphs. If Sorkin is a self-conscious writer’s writer, Reiner had a keen sense of how those words and stories could be pushed and pulled in different directions, hopefully for the greater good. A born director, in other words.

Jesse Hassenger (@rockmarooned) is a writer living in Brooklyn. He’s a regular contributor to The A.V. Club, Polygon, and The Week, among others. He podcasts at www.sportsalcohol.com, too.