Ricardo Montalban, an actor well known for his work on screens both large and small, passed away Wednesday at his home in Los Angeles. He was 88 years old. To me, there are three Ricardo Montalbans. There's the white-suited Mr. Rourke, who had the most righteous wish-granting powers this side of Aladdin's lamp on Fantasy Island; there's the voice from the Chrysler commercials that could get even my dedicated Ford-driving great aunt to buy a Chrysler because that rich Corinthian leather just sounded sexy, and, probably closest to my heart, there was Khan. Pectoral-tacular, Captain Kirk-infuriating, best Star Trek villain ever, Khan. (And if you are a Trekkie who disagrees, just try yelling "Booooooooooooorg!" It doesn't feel quite right, does it?)

Majel Barrett, widow of Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry, died yesterday of leukemia in her Bel Air, California home. She was 76. She had the distinction of acting in every incarnation of the iconic science fiction franchise. She started out in the Trek universe as Captain Pike's second-in-command in the first pilot for the original series. She would go on to play Christine Chapel, a nurse in the series and later a doctor in the first and fourth Trek movies.

Michael Crichton, creator of ER and The Andromeda Strain, died yesterday. The 66-year-old multi-hyphenate's career spanned four decades and spawned numerous books and movies with which you are no doubt familiar. His books-turned-movies took us to Jurassic Park and The Lost World, made Demi Moore sexually harass Michael Douglas in Disclosure, put Sharon Stone and Samuel L. Jackson in a Sphere and sent James Bond and Passenger 57 to the land of Rising Sun. His loss is a sad occasion for this writer-slash-science major who loved the way he mixed the two disciplines in his work. His books were so cinematic that they seemed ready to film straight from the bookstore. Here are a few examples of Crichton's lesser-known work onscreen.

When I was younger, so much younger than today, my cousins and I stumbled upon a comedy album in my aunt's record collection. It was called Eat Out More Often. We thought it was about going to McDonald's. We were quite wrong. The comedy routine described -- well, never mind, but it was my introduction to Rudy Ray Moore, who died on October 19th of this year. Moore entertained two generations of 'hood rats with his incredibly blue humor and unfortunate penchant for being middle-aged, paunchy and consistently naked both in movies and on his album covers. Rappers like Snoop Dogg credit RRM's "rappin' and tappin'" delivery as an inspiration. While Moore wasn't as well known as his contemporary, Redd Foxx, he was most remembered as the character he played in movies and on record, Dolemite. Mack Daddy Dolemite was so tough not even death could touch him. Life doesn't always imitate art.

Paul Newman died on Friday, and the whole world mourned. There isn't much to say about Paul Newman that hasn't been said already, and better. Well, there is actually probably a great deal more to say, but it's hard to find the words, or the means, to sum up the man. I use the word "man" here because he was so much more than an actor, even though he was one of the best of his time. But "actor" is too small -- and, frankly, unimportant -- compared with what he did with his life. He was a family man, a race car driver, and a philanthropist.

When watching movie trailers, audiences are usually so entranced by the images they're shown that few people think about the voice that's telling them what the movie's about. Of course, if the voice is doing its job right, you don't have to think about it; only a bad voice-over jars you out of the scenes you're watching. A good voice-over will make you think some omnipotent deity is inside your head, filling you in on the details, and more often than not, Don LaFontaine was that omnipotent deity. Sadly, he passed away on September 1, which means he just got a lot more omnipotent, and one step closer to deification.

I meant to write this yesterday, but I was still reeling from the loss of Bernie Mac. Not that Isaac Hayes takes a back seat to Mac -- while Mac was equally at home on TV, on the big screen and on stage, Hayes was a quadruple threat, with TV, movie, singing and songwriting credits to his name. Obviously, his claim to fame was the theme song to Shaft, but the man also co-wrote two legendary songs for Sam & Dave: "Soul Man" -- which inspired the title of a bad C. Thomas Howell flick, as well as an upcoming film starring Hayes, Mac and Samuel L. Jackson -- and "Hold On! I'm Coming," which has popped up on every soundtrack from Adventures in Babysitting to American Gangster. Yeah, that's right -- Adventures in Babysitting. Is it any wonder the man is a legend in my eyes?

The news that funnyman Bernie Mac passed away over the weekend from complications due to pneumonia still hasn't quite sunk in. All I can hear in my head is his famous quote from Ocean's Eleven, where he spouted, "They might as well call it whitejack!" It still makes me laugh. The 50-year-old actor may be best known for his work in those Ocean's flicks, where he looked fly and cracked wise, but personally I've seen some of his less notable film work and he was always the best thing about them.