--Steven Spielberg, neighbor: "First he's a wonderful daddy. In between raising his kids, he does pictures. We're friends because his interpretation of family life is so retro. It's car pools, barbecues, play weekends, talk about the PTA, take videos of the kids. The other thing is that he completely, unerringly loves his wife."

Now go to the Man; you will find that even Tom Hanks likes Tom Hanks. "I think I'm a very pleasant person," he says. "I am. I'm a sunny individual. I think I can work with just about everybody. But this is a pretty protective atmosphere we're in here. It's very easy. In all honesty, why not be pleasant? I've never been a fan of people who operate from the school of 'The squeaky wheel gets the grease.' In my mind, the squeaky wheel gets replaced."

If Hanks doesn't squeak, he does squawk on the set. "For an Everyman," Spielberg says, "he's pretty damned opinionated." He can impose his will, and not just through star power. The week before Private Ryan was to begin shooting, Hanks and the film's squad of seven actors were put through some tough basic training. After three days, says Dye, "they were a little shocky, and naturally they began to grumble. But then out of his tent walks Tom Hanks as Captain Miller." Hanks recalls that after he gave an impassioned speech, "we took a vote. I was the only one who voted to stay. So we had another talk." They voted to stick it out. "It was five days of very little sleep at night," says Hanks. "It was not even a fraction of what anybody in the service goes through. But for us, whose job it is--whose job it is--to project that, it was the most important thing we did."

Hanks' hectoring is always about craft and competence: doing it right, getting the job done. Nearly every Hanks director describes him as a maddening perfectionist who is somehow so sincere that he doesn't piss anybody off. More important, he gives directors his fierce dedication to submerging himself in the role. "He's so versatile and has such range," says Frank Darabont, writer-director of Hanks' next film, The Green Mile, "that you don't have to take the character to him. He brings the character to the screen." Hanks also knows how to lighten things up on the set. For the kissing scene in You've Got Mail, recalls Ryan, "we were both uncomfortable. So Tom starts talking about the Microsoft lawsuit. I knew just what he was doing. It was so generous."

Hanks is unusually generous to the press; he tries to give a fresh, incisive quote to each journalist. He even took it well when he heard he would be bumped off the cover of this week's TIME because of some minor congressional skirmish. Caring and articulate, he rarely trips over his own dexterity. And when he does it makes news.

Recently he told the New Yorker that he "regrets" having given $10,000 to the Clinton defense fund. Now, asked about that remark, he goes all stammery, in the early Hanks mode of bluster and fluster, to explain, "Look, if I hadn't given it then, I would have given it now. As a guy who supports the President of the United States, I think he's doing a fabulous job, and I'm glad I gave him the money." Not that he wasn't shocked by the Lewinsky affair. "In the vast, surrealistic expanse of the Story of the Year, who didn't at one point or another slap themselves upside the head and say, 'Holy smoke! Hole ee smoke! Can you believe this?'? And you can't believe it, but it's the reality. But you know what? He's my guy."

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