Although he frequently played the role of the disdainful villain, the posh upper-crust rouge, rapscallion, cad, blackmailer, and generally less that honorable man-about-town, Sanders gave one of the best lines in film history—one that, however inadvertently, expresses the wishes of many average men and women the world over.

We Americans are nothing if not direct. “Say it like it is.” “Shoot straight with me.” “Don’t beat around the bush” are all expressions that we often hear.

Unfortunately though, through our directness, we have lost the wonderful art form of understatement, and with it, the joy of a very finely shaded conversation. Without carefully camouflaged hints, observations, and suggestions, our dialogue lacks understatement and understatement is exactly what can make conversations catch fire and be memorable.

In American films, for example, villains who bring sophistication to their felonious ways are so rare as to be extinct. Our Yank tough guys waste no time in making their threats—most often done so by waving a weapon and using the F-word so many times that it induces a coma in the listener. At the very least, there is no danger of misinterpreting what is expected.

Now, of course, we do get attempts here and there at being clever: The line “You have a nice shop/home/family here and it would be a shame if something were to happen to it” is one of the oldest chestnuts. But that is only a sliver removed from the “your money or your life” kind of intimidation. In either case, the violence is so clear that we as viewers do not have to use a single brain cell to follow what is going on.

Shift to the other side of the Atlantic however, England namely, in the first half of the 20th century and one discovers a completely different kind of shakedown artist—a sophisticate who relies on a good dash of obliqueness to get things done. In other words, he is a master at hinting at things as opposed to spelling them out.

Well, I say in England, but as any movie buff knows there was a “British Colony” in Hollywood and so a good many of those crisply accented actors were actually living in sunny California. Either way, actors with that air of British superiority, cynicism, languidness, and a kind of charming disdain were quickly snapped up for any number of roles.

Being middle-drawer as we average are, I have always admired these rakes. I was mesmerized by both their style and how their speech was full of the smoothest phraseology, allusions, and implications. The writing behind these characters was, of course, superb, but it took real talent to give voice to what was in the script and in this regard George Sanders had few equals.

Now I doubt that in everyday life that George Sanders was really quite as troublesome as his screen persona, although there is debate in his case where the line exactly stood between the public and the private man. I will have to leave that question to the professional reviewers, but there is no doubt that his performances really are that convincing.

In the following scene from Rebecca, Sanders, in the role of Jack Favell, confronts the couple played by Joan Fontaine and Lawrence Olivier in order to float his blackmail proposition. Watch how he sets it up and the language he uses. While at first blush this might seem a bit effeminate for modern American audiences, take a moment to drink in how Sanders uses his voice and mannerisms to bring the threat to life and make it hover menacingly in the air. (The scene runs to about 3:50 and then repeats so no need to watch past that)

Where else can you remember anyone being so discrete in making a blackmail? It is pure understated elegance.

Here we see him in the role that garnered him an Academy Award in 1950 for best-supporting actor—as the power-behind-the-throne theater critique Addison DeWitt in All About Eve: Sanders in Eve While certainly not as humorous and fun as the previous scene, it does give you an idea as to why he was the go-to guy when the role called for haughtiness.

Of course anyone who remembers the 1967 version of the Jungle Book will also recognize his voicing for the man-hating tiger Shere Kahn—a frightening figure for those of us who were children in the late 1960s and beyond.

Naturally, there are other examples of his fine acting and to mention one clip is, by necessity, having to leave out an equally good one. There is a decent enough biography of him by Richard Vanderbeets, the aforementioned autobiography, and many enjoyable hours to be had chasing down the rabbit trails of videos of him on YouTube.

George Sanders was a man about whom nothing was average. He could act, sing, speak multiple languages, was impressively well read (Schopenhauer for fun it is said), and quick with a joke. Yet he gains his place in the Pantheon of the Just Average for his line in that Rebecca clip: I would like to have your advice on how to live comfortably without hard work. Isn’t that one of the greatest lines uttered in movie history? When has so much ever been expressed in so few words?

Naturally I do not endorse blackmail as a way to supplement one’s income, but Sanders brings forward a thought that is redolent with hope and opportunity. It is a wish that millions of us in the average ranks dream of every day.

Sanders was a gifted actor but never took himself too seriously and seemed to embody one of my favorite phrases. You might have noticed it in Latin, curare simulare, on the home page of the Just Average Inc. site. It means “pretend to care” and was explained to me by a fellow Air Force pilot who had it engraved on the inside of his Air Force Academy ring.

At first I thought this to be a rather cynical gesture. Getting an education at the taxpayers’ expense and putting something like that on the inside of the ring—how could one be so sophomoric? Yet the more time I spent in the military and flying world and listened to this pilot’s advice, the more I realized that he was advocating that you work hard at your assigned tasks, but you were never to take it all too seriously. Concentrate on what is important and always do your best, but feel free to pretend to care about anything that is pretentious, self-serving, or time-wasting.

Now I know that using a Latin phrase for pretend to care might not be everyone’s choice of words, but they stuck with me as I have grown to admire those who can be decent and diligent and even accomplished but still do it all with a wink in their eye that says they are not taking themselves too seriously. George Sanders, much like Tom Selleck, fortunately was one of those who never seemed to let it all go to his head.

In fact, when commenting on his acting abilities and the drive and passion that propelled other actors forward, Sanders remarked: “I am not one of those individuals who would rather act than eat. Laurence Olivier was born with a desire to act. My own desire as a boy was to retire.” (1) This offhand remark, much cherished by the cognoscenti of indolence, makes me think of the opening song to the series Portlandia in which the singers praise the city of Portland as being the place where young people go to retire!

Yes, yes, I know. We of average stock are sturdy folk who take pride in our daily labors to reflect our character and all that…but could we not be just as proud of living comfortably without hard work? How can we condemn it without giving it a try? And why, for heaven’s sake are we so wedded to this ideal of hard and constant labor as being an indication of our virtue?

No, fairness demands that we look at both sides. For if we get too keen on toil are we not falling into the trap of those over-achievers who are plugging away in their 24/7 self-actualization efforts? See the danger? Yes, I thought you would.

Let us then praise George Sanders for the call, however elusive it might be, to a life of comfort without hard work. After all, if it is an unsatisfying dead end we can certainly return to the workhouse—it will always be there so don’t worry about that.

Oh, by the way… that pilot with the curare simulare (the pretend to care Latin phrase we discussed earlier) on his Academy ring? He is now a captain at a major U.S. airline and happily flying you from city to city. We trust him with our lives so he is was correct in his assessment as to what is important and what is simply worth a shrug of pretend to care.