-rich saga of a relentless detective (Pacino) in pursuit of a wily professional larcenist (De Niro).

Mann sits between his swarthy stars during the press conference, which commences over 45 minutes late. He fields few inquiries.

That's because most of the reporters direct their interest toward the juicier subjects, Hollywood's elusive dark duo.

Al Pacino. There he is. Black leather jacket, thick hair graying at the temples, sideburns. Before he speaks, you're expecting the brooder, the man who has embodied the word "intensity" over a career spanning eight Academy Award nominations. If not the stormy Michael Corleone of the classic "Godfather" trilogy, you at least imagine a man with Pacino's cinematic charisma to display some fraction of the utter cool that he emits in "Serpico," "Carlito's Way," "Scarface," " . . . And Justice For All" or "Dog Day Afternoon."

Not really.

Up close and personal, Pacino is a chattering older guy with a look that reflects hard living. His average manner doesn't harken at all to the sexual dynamo from "Sea of Love" or the larger-than-life drama king from "Scent of a Woman." He's far too ingratiating to live up to a fan's misguided daydream preconceptions, giving long, mostly unrevealing answers.

When asked about his early friendship with De Niro around the late 1960s and early 1970s, Pacino quips tongue-in-cheek, "We met each other once on 14th street. (pause) Between B and C."

Then, in his gravelly voice, Al begins to ramble, branching off to address previously asked questions.

"We said hello. 'Cause I had seen Robert in the movie 'The Wedding Party' that Brian De Palma made. And I was very impressed with him. So I remembered him from that movie and I saw him on the street. I think 'The Gang that Couldn't Shoot Straight' was also a movie that we were both being considered for which Robert did. 'The Pope of Greenwich Village,' we were gonna do that together at one point. And Bobby was going to direct that."

De Niro chimes in, "Yeah, yeah."

Pacino continues, "And we've known each other for a long time."

Pacino is more eloquent discussing the talent of co-star De Niro.

"I remember seeing things that Bob had done in the past, and very recent times, and have been taken with the work so much that (turning toward De Niro) I even wrote you about it. Some of his great work -- which is plenty -- I can remember "Raging Bull" as something that you hadn't seen. "Godfather II" and on and on. "GoodFellas." "Once Upon a Time in America," I was staggered by the subtlety of his portrayal and the warmth, which is what we often talk about with Bob among us actors who admire him so. It is the warmth and the way he approaches things."

Did you always know what you wanted to do?

Pacino: "I knew early on that I was an actor, I mean I was doing it all the time. I was in the school plays and everything. But I didn't know that I was going to seriously go into it. I never made that conscious decision till I was in my early 20s. . . . Once that happened to me, I found that this whole idea of success, making it, didn't matter as much. What mattered was the involvement and engaging myself in this kind of activity."

At one point, he is asked about whether he prefers to play good guys or bad guys.

Without prompting, he segues on. "There are times where you want to work, to keep acting, so sometimes you choose something with the hope that you'll find it as you go along. . . ."

"(Before) I would just wait for what I thought was the right situation all around, the script, everything else. And then I got to a point where I thought I won't work much and when I do I'll pick the wrong thing. I figured let me just see if I can just put it into the character I'm playing. So I don't think as much about the entire movie. Maybe I should think about it more . . . "

Later, Pacino admits, "Not to be long-winded here, because I feel that every time I talk I go on forever. That's a new thing with me. I start talking and I don't stop."

But Pacino's verbosity does not explain De Niro's surprising inarticulateness this day. Pacino merely filled the void, because often De Niro's responses amounted to grins, grunts, mumbles and shrugs.

Without exceptional intelligence, no man could understand human behavior and replicate it on demand in all its nuance the way De Niro consistently does. Certainly, no living actor exceeds his talent for authenticity.

And yet, judging by his inability to finesse routine discussion in this public forum, you might not equate him with the genius who earned six Oscar nominations, two wins, and electrified audiences in "Mean Streets," "Taxi Driver," "The Deer Hunter," "The King of Comedy" or "A Bronx Tale."

Trim and pristinely groomed, he looks more prosperous than his heavy borough accent would indicate. During the less-than-one-hour press conference, De Niro gave very, very little. Even when questions were put directly at him, he would give a non-answer or as short of one as he could manage. Perhaps it's shyness that causes his reticence and, at times, sarcasm.

Asked, thinking back to your first play at age 10, did you ever imagine you'd be where you are now?

De Niro's only retort was "Who woulda thought."

Asked about the movie's pivotal scene, in which his character and Pacino's finally come face-to-face, De Niro says merely, "It was just the way it was written. It was a terrifically written scene."

A reporter brings up the situation that De Niro confronted a few weeks ago when he allegedly got physical with an intrusive paparazzo. Was this invasion by a photographer an isolated incident or routine?

De Niro: "I don't know."

Another asks, when you were a kid and played cops and robbers, did you prefer playing the cop or the robber?

De Niro: "Me? I don't know. (fumbling) Cops and robbers. My experience was more, ah . . . No, it's complicated. I can't answer it."

To be fair, De Niro did give the occasional two- and three-sentence revelation, like about how he researched his character in "Heat" and another about his downtown Manhattan restaurant.

But if he was simply mocking or goofing on the media with his unhelpful mutterings, then why do publicity at all? Maybe it's in his contract that he has to submit to such promotion. Or maybe the man is only able to effuse intelligently in private or when a screenwriter is supplying the dialogue.

Whatever the case, for someone who idolizes him, sitting 10 feet in front of De Niro that day was a tremendous letdown. Maybe it's my fault for idealizing Al Pacino and Robert De Niro, projecting my movie-inspired imagination onto flesh-and-blood mortals, applying fiction to reality.

Maybe it's just better to live the fantasy and never meet your heroes.