The marked-up speech he never gave. 

A typed two-page draft of a speech, prepared for Al Pacino on the occasion of his Cecil B. DeMille Lifetime Achievement Award from the Golden Globes, which he was awarded in 2001. Written by journalist and longtime friend, Larry Grobel, the speech bears handwritten annotations from Pacino. Unfortunately, this version of the speech remained a draft, as Grobel recalls: 

Over the years, I?ve written short speeches for Al Pacino for awards he received from the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts & Sciences, the Golden Globes, the American Film Institute, the American Cinematheque, the American Museum of the Moving Image, the Dublin Philosophical Society, and for comments he was asked to make honoring Francis Coppola and Van Morrison. I was never paid to do these, I did it out of friendship and because I knew he wasn?t good at winging it. He used some of them, ignored others. But there was one speech that we worked on for a few days?the 2001 Golden Globe?s Lifetime Achievement Award?that made me want to throw a shoe at the TV screen when I saw him reach into his jacket pocket, pull out air, and proceeded to stammer his way through what I thought was a disastrous performance. The audience gave him a standing ovation when he approached the stage. Then he began to ramble. He spoke of his mother taking him to see Cecil B. DeMille films (she didn?t); he went from an early teacher, Blanche Rothstein, and the Bible to 12 years later and back to Blanche and how she came to talk to his mother but he didn?t know what she said (he did), then to his friend Charlie Laughton and his manager Marty Bregman. He mentioned Coppola but didn?t say anything about him, then he profusely thanked his agent, even though he was always complaining to me about him. Then he said that he didn?t even like acting, and tried to say something about the Hollywood foreign press. "I wanted to say something?I ?it?s important?this stuff?the Hollywood foreign press, they?re interesting, you know, they are, you know it?."  He just wasn?t able to get off gracefully. What was he thinking? It was fascinating in a self-destructive way. 

The following week we took a long walk on the beach in Santa Monica, and I asked him what had happened at the Golden Globes. "What do you mean?" he asked. Nobody had said anything to him.  

"I mean, where was the speech?" 

"I thought I could wing it," he said. "I got some points across. What I said about teachers, that was good." 

"It was a mess," I said. "And you said things you didn?t mean." 

"Like what?" 

"Like you liked Cecil B. DeMille films." 

"Did I say that?" 

"And you said you didn?t like acting." 

"No, I didn?t say that. I said that I didn?t always like to act, that?s true. And sometimes you can?t help it, you just have to?" 

"For the need!" 

"Right." 

"But you didn?t say that. It came out that you didn?t like it. And then you stayed on too long." 

"I did?" 

"Some people thought you were endearing. But Larry Elder on his radio show asked, ?Who was the idiot who helped Pacino write that speech??" 

"Oh my God, no wonder you?re upset." 

"I was screaming at the TV." 

"I can?t do these things," he said. "I don?t think they?ll have these things for me anymore."  

Well, that was then. Pacino?s still getting awards, the audiences are still standing for him, and at 85, he?s still making movies. Good for him. 

From the Collection of Lawrence Grobel