Hollywood has lost one of its most revered and versatile giants. On February 15, 2026, Academy Award-winning actor and director Robert Duvall passed away peacefully at his home in Middleburg, Virginia, surrounded by love and the quiet comfort of his sprawling horse farm. He was 95. His wife, Luciana Duvall, announced the news the following day via a heartfelt statement on his official Facebook page: “Yesterday we said goodbye to my beloved husband, cherished friend, and one of the greatest actors of our time. Bob passed away peacefully at home, surrounded by love and comfort.”

No specific cause of death was disclosed, with family and representatives emphasizing the natural passage of time for a man who had lived a full, vibrant life well into his nineties. Just weeks before his passing, Duvall had shared a lighthearted video of himself doing bicep curls, a testament to the discipline and vitality that defined him both on and off screen. Tributes poured in from across the industry—Al Pacino called him “a phenomenal gift,” Francis Ford Coppola mourned the loss of a “brother in art,” and countless fans reflected on how Duvall’s performances had shaped their understanding of cinema’s power to reveal the human soul.

Born Robert Selden Duvall on January 5, 1931, in San Diego, California, to a military family, Duvall grew up moving frequently—Virginia, Maryland, Annapolis—absorbing the rhythms of small-town America that would later infuse his portrayals of Southerners, cowboys, and everymen. His father, William Howard Duvall, was a Navy admiral; his mother, Mildred Virginia Hart, encouraged his artistic leanings. After serving in the Army during the Korean War era (though he never saw combat), Duvall studied acting at New York’s Neighborhood Playhouse under Sanford Meisner, honing the precise, understated style that would become his signature.

Duvall’s breakthrough came early, in a role that remains one of American cinema’s most beloved. In 1962’s To Kill a Mockingbird, he played Boo Radley, the reclusive neighbor whose quiet heroism saves Scout and Jem Finch. Duvall’s portrayal—silent, shadowed, yet profoundly moving—earned instant acclaim and set the tone for a career built on subtlety rather than flash. “I wanted Boo to be mysterious, almost ghostly,” Duvall later recalled in interviews. “The less you show, the more the audience feels.”

The 1970s marked his ascent to icon status. In Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather (1972) and The Godfather Part II (1974), Duvall embodied Tom Hagen, the Corleone family’s calm, calculating consigliere. Opposite Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, and James Caan, Duvall’s Hagen was the voice of reason in a world of ruthless ambition—loyal, intelligent, and heartbreakingly human. “Tom was the outsider who became family,” Duvall said. “He had to navigate power without the blood ties.” The role earned him his first Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor.

Then came Apocalypse Now (1979), Coppola’s hallucinatory Vietnam epic. As Lieutenant Colonel Bill Kilgore, Duvall delivered one of cinema’s most quoted monologues: “I love the smell of napalm in the morning… Smells like victory.” Sporting a cowboy hat and surfing obsession amid the chaos of war, Kilgore was absurd, terrifying, and oddly charismatic—a perfect encapsulation of Duvall’s ability to humanize even the most unhinged characters. The performance remains a masterclass in blending menace with whimsy.

In 1983, Duvall claimed his long-deserved Oscar for Best Actor in Tender Mercies. Playing Mac Sledge, a washed-up country singer rebuilding his life after alcoholism and loss, Duvall brought raw vulnerability to a role that could have been clichéd. He sang his own songs, learned guitar, and lived in character for months. “Mac was broken, but he had heart,” Duvall reflected. The win—his only competitive Oscar out of seven nominations—cemented his status as one of Hollywood’s elite.

His range was staggering. In The Great Santini (1979), he was a domineering Marine pilot terrorizing his family with tough love. In Lonesome Dove (1985 miniseries), he earned an Emmy as the larger-than-life Augustus “Gus” McCrae, a role he considered his favorite. “Gus had poetry in him,” Duvall said. “He could quote Shakespeare while roping cattle.” He directed and starred in The Apostle (1997), earning another Oscar nod as a flawed Pentecostal preacher. Later works included The Judge (2014) opposite Robert Downey Jr., and voice roles in Pixar’s Cars franchise.

Duvall’s personal life was as rich as his career. He married four times, his final union to Argentine actress Luciana Pedraza in 2005 bringing him lasting happiness. They lived on a 360-acre farm in Virginia’s hunt country, where Duvall raised cattle, played polo, and stayed active. He credited his longevity to discipline—daily workouts, healthy eating—and a refusal to retire fully. “As long as they keep asking me to work, I’ll keep going,” he told interviewers in his 90s.

The tributes reflect his profound impact. Meryl Streep called him “a chameleon with soul.” Clint Eastwood praised his “unmatched authenticity.” Social media overflowed with clips: Kilgore’s napalm speech, Tom Hagen’s quiet counsel, Boo Radley’s attic emergence. Fans shared personal stories—how Tender Mercies helped them through grief, how Lonesome Dove inspired road trips.

Robert Duvall wasn’t just an actor; he was a mirror to America’s complexities—its heroism and flaws, its quiet dignity and explosive rage. In an industry often chasing spectacle, he championed truth in small gestures: a furrowed brow, a hesitant pause, a single tear. As the curtain falls on his extraordinary life, the screen still echoes with his voice, reminding us why great acting endures.

Rest in peace, Bob. The movies—and our hearts—will never be the same.