Correspondent James Willwerth has covered war in Saigon and peace (almost as harrowing) in the streets of New York City. Last week he was on his new beat in Hollywood, but his subjects were presumably still tough: Burt Reynolds and Clint Eastwood. "Covering illusion, I suspect, is going to be just as confusing as reporting reality," says Willwerth. Part of the confusion came from spending a few days with Reynolds. The flashy-flip, skirt-chasing, tire-burning macho hero of Semi-Tough, and a score of other cinematic excursions, proved to be a "semi-shy, urbane homebody." It turns out that the fast cars, wine and women are just an act on screen. Reynolds does drive a Rolls-Royce, but at the speed limit, and is going steady with an actress (Sally Field) long known for playing a flying nun.

Correspondent Paul Witteman boned up for his Eastwood interviews by seeing three of the actor-director's movies (The Gauntlet, The Outlaw Josie Wales, Dirty Harry) at one sitting. "An Eastwood triple feature," the star remarked kindly when he heard about it. "After that you'll need a tin cup and a white cane." In his newest film, The Gauntlet, Eastwood races by car, motorcycle, freight train and bus to bring a witness against the Mob to the trial on time. But only at the wheel, Witteman found, does the otherwise quiet and domestic Eastwood, who does not even bother with standard Hollywood equipment such as a pressagent, live up to his screen image. After a stint in the passenger's seat of Eastwood's Ferrari Boxer, tooling down those twisty Monterey Peninsula roads, Witteman admits that he was "scared to death." Most Eastern critics tend to dismiss the macho and mayhem films made by the two superstars as drive-in popcorn or worse. But Contributor Richard Schickel, who wrote this week's cover story, takes a different view. Schickel, a film maker himself as well as a critic, has spent time with both men and admires them for being "non-prima donna professionals." He adds: "Clint and Burt have classic screen presences"--like John Wayne, who for 25 years lived with bad reviews despite popular adulation. Says Schickel: "I have a feeling that when Clint-or Burt-reaches 60, he'll make his version of True Grit, and critics will sit up and realize how good he's been all along."

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