Principal photography for Rain Man commenced in the first week of February 1988. The production began in the biting cold of Cincinnati, Ohio, before the company embarked on the long, winding road trip that would form the visual spine of the film. The weather was gray, mirroring the initial icy relationship between the two brothers, Charlie and Raymond.
As part of his preparation, Alex had not only studied the mannerisms of a car salesman but had also delved deeply into the medical literature surrounding autism. In 1988, autism was vastly misunderstood by the general public, often conflated with mental retardation or schizophrenia, and savant syndrome was viewed almost as a mystical parlor trick.
Alex realized that the script, in its current draft, inadvertently reinforced some of these misconceptions. It leaned heavily on the idea of Raymond as "broken" and needing to be "fixed" or simply institutionalized because he was ill.
Before shooting the crucial scene where Charlie takes Raymond to a small-town doctor to understand his brother's condition, Alex requested a meeting with director Barry Levinson, co-star Dustin Hoffman and the screenwriting team, Ronald Bass and Barry Morrow, in the production trailer.
"The scene works dramatically," Alex began, holding a marked-up copy of the script. "But medically, it's reductive. If we shoot it this way, the audience is going to leave the theater thinking autism is a disease. Like a virus you catch or a mental illness that can be medicated away."
Levinson leaned back, intrigued. "What are you proposing, Alex?"
"We need to clarify the neurology," Alex said. "I've been reading the papers by Rimland and the latest DSM drafts. Autism isn't a disease; it's a neurodevelopmental difference. It's a distinct wiring of the brain. And crucially, not every autistic person is a savant like Raymond. Raymond is an outlier on the far end of the spectrum."
Alex looked directly at them, his conviction evident in his steady gaze.
"I want the doctor to explain that. It will take maybe two minutes of screen time, but it's vital. We need to say that for many people on the spectrum, life is relatively normal. They have jobs, families, and independence. Raymond is different not just because he's autistic, but because of the severity of his specific developmental divergence and the savant syndrome. If we don't make that distinction, we're telling the world that every autistic person is helpless. That's dangerous."
Barry Morrow, who had conceived the original story inspired by his friendship with Kim Peek, the real-life megasavant whose extraordinary memory and developmental challenges formed the basis for Raymond, looked at Alex thoughtfully. While the story was his baby, he recognized the nuance Alex was fighting for. Bass, tasked with the shooting script, nodded in agreement.
"Alex's right," Levinson said, nodding slowly. "It grounds the story in reality. It stops Raymond from being a magic trick."
All eyes turned to Dustin Hoffman, who was sitting in the corner of the trailer, arms crossed. He had been quiet during the exchange, his jaw tight. He notoriously hated script changes on the fly, especially those driven by his co-star. To him, the text was the foundation upon which he built his fragile house of cards, and having Alex—a "movie star"—dictating medical accuracy felt like an overstep.
"You want to turn the doctor scene into a lecture?" Hoffman asked sharply, his voice carrying the edge of his frustration. "Charlie is supposed to be ignorant. He just wants his money. If he gets a medical briefing... what if he starts sympathizing with him right there? It happens too early. The audience needs to see the distance between them."
"No," Alex countered calmly, leaning forward. "Charlie is a selfish prick. We've established that. He's drowning in debt. Even knowing the medical reality, his attitude is: 'Fine, he's wired differently. Not my problem.' He just wants the money in return for sending Raymond back."
"It makes him a morally gray character," Alex continued, pressing his point. "He hears the truth and still chooses the money. That way, when he finally chooses his brother at the end—knowing exactly how difficult it is—the impact is earned."
Hoffman stared at him, processing the dramatic logic. He reached out and snatched the script from the table where Alex had left it, scanning the proposed notes with skepticism. He wanted to find a flaw, a reason to dismiss it as vanity.
But as he read, his expression softened. He had met many savants and people on the spectrum during his own extensive research. He knew Alex was medically right. And dramatically... he realized Alex was right about that too. The distinction made Raymond more unique, more tragic, and ultimately, more real. It stripped away the Hollywood gloss.
"It's better," Dustin muttered finally, tossing the script back onto the table. He refused to look impressed, but his professional integrity overrode his ego. "I don't like changing the rhythm this late... but it's accurate. And Alex is right—it hurts the character more if there's no cure. It makes it... genuine. Let's do it."
The changes were implemented immediately. In the revised scene, the doctor would explicitly clarify that Raymond's condition was not an illness to be cured but a fundamental difference in how his brain processed information. The dialogue emphasized that while Raymond required institutional care due to his specific inability to care for himself, this was not the universal experience of autism.
It was a subtle, scientific injection into a Hollywood screenplay, but for Alex, it was a matter of integrity. He knew the reach his stardom provided. If millions of people were going to learn about autism from this movie, he wanted to ensure they learned the truth: that it was a spectrum of human existence, not a defect to be pitied.
By late February, the Rain Man production had moved onto the road, a grueling schedule of motels and highways that mirrored the journey of the Babbitt brothers. The set was isolated, the environment dominated by Method preparation, and Alex Hayes was completely immersed in the role of Charlie Babbitt. Yet, in Hollywood, the machine never stopped turning.
Alex was in the makeup trailer, preparing for the day's shoot. The head makeup artist, Maria, meticulously worked on his face to achieve Charlie Babbitt's signature sharp, stressed look. On the small, cluttered counter, Alex noticed a recent issue of Motion Picture Herald tucked beneath a wig stand. Its headline screamed about the annual Quigley Poll.
The Quigley Poll, compiled since 1932 from questionnaires sent to movie theater owners, was the only popularity contest that truly mattered to the studios. It wasn't about critics; it was about the bottom line: Which stars generated the most revenue for your theaters this year?
Alex hadn't checked the results for 1987 when they were initially released due to the intense pre-production work and his family retreat. He was certainly not immune to the validation it provided, even if he pretended indifference.
"Who topped the list this year, Maria?" Alex asked, though he already had a strong suspicion of the answer. "The Quigley Poll."
Maria, focused on blending his foundation, shook her head. "I wouldn't know, Alex. Ask Robert over there."
Alex turned his gaze toward Robert, a production assistant who was currently organizing the brushes.
"Robert, can you read that list for me?" Alex asked.
Robert, thrilled to be addressed by the biggest star on set, immediately picked up the magazine and found the results.
"The results for 1987 are in," Robert announced, a sense of occasion in his voice. "And sitting immovably at Number One is 'Alex Hayes'."
1987 Top Ten Money-Making Stars are:
1. Alex Hayes (Top Gun, Moonstruck)
2. Eddie Murphy (Beverly Hills Cop II, Eddie Murphy Raw)
3. Michael Douglas (Fatal Attraction, Wall Street)
4. Michael J. Fox (The Secret of My Success, Light of Day)
5. Arnold Schwarzenegger (Predator, The Running Man)
6. Paul Hogan (Crocodile Dundee)
7. Glenn Close (Fatal Attraction)
8. Sylvester Stallone (Over the Top)
9. Cher (The Witches of Eastwick, Moonstruck, Suspect)
10. Mel Gibson (Lethal Weapon)
Alex, still and steady under Maria's brush, felt a quiet sense of satisfaction. The list itself was a measure of his industry dominance, populated by heavy hitters like Eddie Murphy, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Cher (who had just starred with him in 'Moonstruck').
Robert scanned the text below the list and whistled low. "It says here: 'Four straight years at Number One for Hayes. And his seventh consecutive year in the Top Ten.'"
"That's good, Robert," Alex murmured, watching his own eyes in the mirror. "That's very good."
Robert continued reading the analysis from the article:
"The article goes on to say that the historical weight of this achievement is staggering. In the history of Hollywood, longevity at the absolute peak is rare. By securing his fourth consecutive win, Alex has ascended into a pantheon occupied by the industry's greatest legends. He now stands shoulder-to-shoulder with cinema icons who had topped the poll four times: Shirley Temple (1935–1938), John Wayne (1950–1951, 1954, 1971), and Doris Day (1960, 1962–1964)."
Robert paused dramatically, flipping a page. "And listen to this, Alex. Only two stars in history sit above you now, with five Number One rankings: Bing Crosby (1944–1948) and Burt Reynolds (1978–1982)."
Alex looked at his reflection in the mirror, Charlie Babbitt's polished demeanor now overlaid with a flash of his own ambition. "One more year," he mused. "One more year to tie Burt and Bing."
Maria completed her work, taking a final look at Alex in the mirror. "What do you think? Will you overtake Burt and Bing?"
Alex slowly stood from the chair, the makeup cape sliding from his shoulders. He adjusted his cuffs, his movements precise and confident.
"The way I'm going? I'm sure I can," Alex said, his voice level. "But that's not the real question, is it?"
"What is it then?" Maria asked.
Alex turned to the assistant. "Do you know? Who is the actor with the most times in the Top Ten of the poll? Not just number one, but staying power?"
Maria shook her head, looking at Robert.
Robert flipped to the statistical breakdown at the back of the article. He ran his finger down a column of numbers, his eyes widening.
"Here," Robert said. "John Wayne. Twenty-five times. Next is Clint Eastwood with nineteen times. Then Gary Cooper with eighteen, Clark Gable with sixteen, and Bing Crosby with fifteen. That makes the top five."
Maria gasped softly. "Twenty-five? That seems impossible. That was the studio system, wasn't it?"
Alex nodded slowly.
"That's exactly it, Maria," Alex explained. "John Wayne's era was the Studio System. The studios owned the theaters, they dictated content, and they could guarantee an actor would release two or three films a year, every year. They built his brand and forced him into that Top Ten list."
"Overtaking John Wayne..." Alex continued, a fire lighting behind his eyes. "In this time and age—where we have independent producers, constant competition from television and cable, and actors making one film a year—that would be a great achievement. It means the audience is choosing me, not the studio system forcing them to see me."
With that, he turned and walked out of the trailer, stepping into the cold morning air to become Charlie Babbitt.
Robert watched the door swing shut, impressed by the sheer scale of the ambition he had just witnessed. "That is an extraordinary ambition."
Maria wiped her hands on a towel, looking at the empty chair. "Well," she said with a shrug, "being the top star right now... he should have that much confidence and arrogance."
********
As the filming of Rain Man continued across the United States, the nominations for the 60th Academy Awards were announced.
Alex Hayes's twin releases of 1987 —one massive blockbuster and one critically adored romantic comedy—received multiple nominations.
The hyper-commercial, high-octane action film Top Gun received well-deserved nominations in the technical and music categories.The film secured five nominations:
Best Film Editing, Best Sound Effects, Best Sound Editing, Best Music (Original Song) for "Take My Breath Away", Best Cinematography.
The romantic comedy Moonstruck earned a remarkable seven nominations in the major categories: Best Picture, Best Directing, Best Actress in a Leading Role (Cher), Best Actor in a Supporting Role (Vincent Gardenia and Alex Hayes), Best Supporting Actress (Olympia Dukakis), Best Original Screenplay
Alex Hayes received his nomination for Best Actor in a Supporting Role for his volatile, operatic portrayal of Ronny Cammareri.
This nomination for Moonstruck marked Alex Hayes's fourth overall acting nomination from the Academy, achieved at the astonishingly young age of just 24.
Following his previous three nominations (Catch Me If You Can, The Color of Money, and Platoon), this continuous recognition quietly began to rewrite the narrative surrounding his stardom.
He was no longer just the star who opened films; he was an actor with profound staying power and critical resonance.