The main thing was that, almost overnight, he became a film star, and that was his aim from the start. With a touching note of fondness in his voice, he recalls how smitten he was by the big screen. "Even as a small kid, I loved the movies. I wanted so badly to be in them. When I was doing radio in New York, I would sneak off to see a movie whenever I had some spare time at night."  His hero was Spencer Tracy. They made two memorable films together – Broken Lance, in which Widmark played Tracy's son, and Judgment at Nuremberg.  "I picked up a lot from just observing him. He made everything look so easy and simple, and I'd watch him like a hawk. Acting with him was like skating on ice. So smooth. He was a natural who was good when he started his career, and good when he ended it."  He has kind things to say about many of his fellow actors and was on good terms with most of them.  Even his relations with John Wayne improved after a rocky start. "We were never close, but we worked well together when we made The Alamo.  "He'd complain, though, that I wasn't big enough. He liked to have big men in his movies and I never had that heavy, muscular look that he liked."  His most enduring image of Marilyn Monroe is not that of the young, glamorous star, but of the aspiring student of culture who desperately wanted respect for her intellect, and who sought the approval of men such as Arthur Miller and the poet Carl Sandburg.  "I used to see her at the studio restaurant with a stack of books in her arms. She wore baggy clothes and looked sloppy, as though she didn't care about her appearance or was pretending not to care.  "I would just shake my head and tell people at my table that she would never make it in the movie business – which shows you how wrong I can be."  One celebrity who never impressed him –- and, in retrospect, still strikes him as over-rated – is Ronald Reagan. "It amuses me to hear people speak of him with such reverence as this towering figure in history.  "When I knew him, he was a very ordinary guy whose biggest talent was his ability to read from a teleprompter. He looked good and articulate in front of the camera, but I couldn't see any substance behind that image."  Widmark's substance was never in doubt. He became one of the biggest stars in the business and made a successful transition from playing bad guys in crime films to good guys in serious Westerns. Now, a loyal core of fans is determined to honour him while he is still here to enjoy it.  He is rumoured to be the most likely recipient of next year's Lifetime Achievement Award at the Oscar ceremony, and this month, he is the subject of a lavish tribute by the British Film Institute, which will screen a series of his films at the National Film Theatre and host a personal appearance by him. He beams at the thought of receiving praise in Britain.  "I'm happy to admit that I'm an Anglophile. I'm always pleased to have an excuse to visit. But, this time, we're coming over in style.  "I don't know how many years I have left, so I thought we might as well make the trip in real comfort on the QE2. I haven't been on a ship in 30 years."  He laughs and, for just a moment, there is a hint in his voice of that snicker that made him famous. But it has a familiar ring to it now, and is no longer frightening. "I always had crazy laughs," he recalls with a smile.  "When my brother and I would go to the movies as kids, our laughs would stand out so much that people would say, 'The Widmark boys are here tonight'."  Does he think there was a greater sense of vitality in the cinema in those days? He nods and ruefully admits: "I'm such a dinosaur. After all those years of loving movies and watching them at the end of a long day, I find now that I can't sit through many of them. Movie-making has lost a lot of its magic."  As he sees it, the directors don't give enough consideration to the human angle.  "It's mostly a mechanical process now. There's no soul in these films, no spark. All they want to do is move the camera around like it was on a rollercoaster."  So what's the solution? "A great director like John Ford knew how to handle it," he says. "Ford didn't move the camera, he moved the people. I think they've forgotten how to do that."  Asked whether he wants more recognition for his work, Widmark waves the question aside with a genuine show of modesty.  "I don't care if they recognise me for one thing or another," he says, smiling, "just so long as they recognise me for something."
Richard Widmark, who died on March 24, 2008 aged 93, was nominated for an Oscar for his first film, Kiss of Death.