This year’s Tribeca Film Festival had something the past iterations did not: a three-day tribute to its co-founder, the ever-iconic Robert De Niro. To encapsulate his monumental career to the best of the fest’s ability, they built an entire weekend of events, including Q&A’s after some of his most famous films, special guests, art installations, and more. I was looking forward to an exciting weekend in store. 

Yet, with the press hierarchy at play, I found myself unable to attend any of the screenings that De Niro himself would be speaking at — including honoring the 50th anniversary of Mean Streets alongside Scorsese and breaking down one of my favorite recent watches, Jackie Brown, with Tarantino. I asked myself, How is one able to actually get the full De Niro Con experience without actually getting to witness the actor’s presence and have the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to hear him reflect on his process through a New York accent? Let alone, while in New York? 

Covering De Niro Con without any insightful quotes from or an encounter with the man himself is like going to the county fair, and all the rides are broken. It doesn’t make sense, but hey, you’re still trying to salvage a good time. 

My first cinematic memory of De Niro was likely different than most. I wasn’t introduced to him as a mobster in Goodfellas, despite it being one of my now-favorite movies. Instead, it was through 2010’s Little Fockers, where he plays Ben Stiller’s pain-in-the-ass father-in-law, marking the third installment of the franchise after Meet the Parents and then, Meet the Fockers. Although I’ve done a lot of catching up film-wise, I still have a lot of empty spots left to go when it comes to major stars. 

Because of this, I wandered through the extensive exhibit, trying to piece together my fragmented knowledge of De Niro’s career. I learned quite a bit, including his participation in The Actors Studio and working with Stella Adler. It also had an impressive amount of memorabilia, most of it from either his or Scorsese’s own collections. There were storyboards from the director for various films. There was De Niro’s costume from Killers of the Flower Moon. And there were a bunch of notes from other actors he had worked with, including his close friend and collaborator, Al Pacino. 

While the two eventually wound up working together on Michael Mann’s Heat, it took a while before they actually crossed paths. Pacino wrote De Niro a letter after The Godfather Part II that was on display. 

Dear Bob, 

I will miss the opportunity to have worked with you. 

In all the time we’ve known each other, we have never worked together. I wish we could have on this one. I know we will on another.
Your gifts are limitless. I cannot tell you how much it meant to me to be around you and your great ability.

Love, 
Al

The crowning moment of this installation was the Hexadome. The six massive screens surrounded viewers with a short film about De Niro’s career, edited to a perfect tale of not only New York that ties decades of his characters together but a somber one about growing older. By the end of the experience, those watching are hit with the realization that the now-80-year-actor is grappling more with his eventual passing — which will be a great American loss when it happens. 

“What I am, and always have been, is an artist,” his voice narrates over the speakers. 

To get things back on a lighter note, I wrapped up the exhibit by sitting in a room alone, watching Meryl Streep give a speech in De Niro’s honor, as they worked together on both 1978’s The Deer Hunter and 1984’s Falling in Love. 

“I said to myself, ‘That’s the kind of actor I want to be,’” Streep said at the University of Texas’ Ransom Center’s anniversary event in 2022. “I want to do it with the commitment and the passion and the skill and the beauty with which he applies to it. He’s been my beacon for fifty years, I swear to god.” 

Shortly after, I headed back down to the lobby to check out the “Rupert Pupkin Hall of Fan Experiences” area — which, despite the name, did not have anything from The King of Comedy inside at the time that I was there. (The second day, they did add a giant wall of an audience and a laugh track that greets you.) Instead, it was more interactive, allowing fans to truly embody De Niro. My first photo op consisted of trying on a replica Taxi Driver jacket as I quietly muttered “You talkin’ to me?” into a video screen and hoped to avoid drawing any attention to myself. 

The next room over allowed fans to either choose from a temporary tattoo or a real one inspired by De Niro’s body art in Cape Fear. Across from that, the merch booth boasted De Niro-themed playing cards and several different shirt options bearing his face. And, in the center of the space, there was a Goodfellas bar replica with some glasses on a counter. (I do wish this one could’ve been a little more in-depth like the Taxi Driver area had been.) 

My last stop at the fan exhibit was the Raging Bull space. I threw on some boxing gloves and a leopard robe before proceeding to punch the air, replicating De Niro’s opening scene of the Scorsese film in a perfectly packaged video. I then grabbed a coffee sample before heading home to rest, eager to see what day two would bring. 

On a bright Sunday morning, I eventually found myself back at Spring Studios, coming from my roommate’s picnic. I caught most of the “The Missing Movies of Robert De Niro” panel, which had the company’s members, including Richard Guay and Ira Deutchman, discussing the importance of film preservation and the distribution issues that arise — preventing audiences from being able to watch or own a copy. As one example, the three men chatted about De Niro’s appearance in 2020’s The Comeback Trail, which is finally slated to arrive in theaters later this year, after it was temporarily halted at the start of the pandemic. There were also mentions of Warner Brothers, given they’ve been in the news for shelving films like Coyote vs. Acme and Batgirl in the name of, frankly bullsh*t, tax write-offs. 

The panel wrapped by allowing the audience to pick up a pamphlet, explaining more about what Missing Movies does in the film sector beyond just a focus on De Niro’s work.

My next stop at De Niro Con was to check out the first of two “Apalachin Meetings,” which had been described as a way for fans of the Shark Tale star to wear their finest costumes in his honor and chat with one another. I didn’t know what to expect, but I had high hopes. Since there were two of these across several days I figured the turnout would be high. It’s New York, after all. 

However, after heading one flight downstairs, I was sadly disappointed when I saw the deserted lounge. Sure, a few scattered media types were sipping on the free coffee samples. But they weren’t in any costumes or even aware that this was supposed to transform into the De Niro fan hub at 3 p.m. — which was kind of a bummer. I too grabbed another coffee and decided to sit, just to see if anyone showed up that I could talk to. About 45 minutes later, I gave up and decided to take a break. 

I hit the streets of Little Italy, the same ones that De Niro used to walk down. While they’re a little less mean these days, filled with gift shops and an entire store dedicated to Christmas, there still were men (who likely would praise him as their favorite actor) trying to recruit tourists to try their chicken parmesan — which, of course, is better than the two other Italian joints sandwiching their business. 

Although I didn’t ask any of them to list their favorite movie from De Niro’s catalog, it still felt like being at a convention in a way. His spirit is embedded into the culture of New York. And, sure enough, on my walk back to Spring Studios, I ran right into a giant poster of his face. It’s almost like he knew I was looking for him. 

Now back at the actual De Niro Con, I had my final event of the weekend: themed trivia. This had thankfully better turnout than the Apalachin Meeting, so the hosts encouraged everyone to get into larger groups. The thought of this gives me bad anxiety, and it would ruin my plan, which was to test my sole knowledge of De Niro. I kept my spot at the table with a bottle of water and decided on my team-of-one name: Goodfella. It had to be something related to him, after all.

The first round was a picture round, where I received a piece of paper that had the faces of De Niro’s famous co-stars blurred out. It was my job to guess who the celebrities behind the smiley face were. Unfortunately, I only managed to get two (Anne Hathaway in The Intern and Samuel L. Jackson in Jackie Brown), and score-wise, was at the bottom of the barrel. I was competing against some established fans, as one of the teams had tattoos in his honor, so I wasn’t expecting very much. Still, the other team names were hilarious, including De Niro’s Heroes and Meet The Corleones. 

After round two being a general trivia about De Niro’s life, I managed to bounce back, and thankfully placed second-to-last this time, thanks to my knowledge of Robert Mitchum (Who was the original Robert in Cape Fear?) and remembering what his middle name was from a Google search I made earlier that day. Robert Anthony De Niro. 

I would go on to stay in that place, as the lowest-ranked team left after the second round, so their points didn’t change, and mine were allowed to increase. Overall, I achieved what I set out to do, which was learn a bit more about De Niro and his career from those who knew him way better than I did. I even watched one of the audience members do a hilariously spot-on impression of Joe Pesci. Nobody could do De Niro, so the hosts settled for the next best thing. 

The trivia hosts also seemingly felt bad for the fact that I was by myself, despite it being the plan all along, so I was rewarded with a “Tribeca Film Festival” backpack. (The De Niro-themed merch was reserved for the top three winners.) In the end, they also treated us to some incredible pizza, which is what the man himself what have wanted. 

As I walked downstairs to say goodbye to De Niro Con, I was a bit bummed that it was over. Throughout the two days, I had immersed myself in things dedicated to his entire life and even, at times, found myself thinking “What would Robert De Niro do?” — placing myself in the headspace and gaining a new appreciation for him. In terms of the great debate between him and Pacino, I had always been a latter girlie, rooting purely based on looks. Now, I’m not so sure. 
What I am sure of, though, is that when I went to sleep, I swear I heard the echoes of De Niro still playing in my head. You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me? Funny how? Funny like I’m a clown? Wait…