Paul Newman couldn't have existed today — at least, not the way we came to know him.

Sure, the talent would have been there, the classic good looks, the magnetism, the easy charm. But the privacy he demanded (and won), which helped establish and solidify his mystique as a bona fide movie star, never would have been afforded him in our tabloid-driven, celebrity-obsessed culture.

Sad but true. Part of why we were fascinated with Newman, who died Friday at 83 of cancer, was because we didn't know every gory detail of his life, even though he'd reached the zenith of fame and popularity. He left us craving more — and that he lived and died far from Hollywood's glare in the small town of Westport, Conn., in the converted farmhouse he shared with his wife of 50 years, Joanne Woodward, speaks volumes not only about who he was but who he didn't want to be.

It's hard to think of an actor today who compares in that regard: someone who's blazingly confident on-screen but maintains some mystery about who he really is off of it, someone who would make even hardened, cynical journalists go weak in the knees upon meeting face-to-face. Newman's longtime friend and co-star, Robert Redford, certainly qualifies. But of the current generation of stars? We know too much about Tom Cruise. Will Smith? Leonardo DiCaprio? Johnny Depp, maybe — though he's carved out a path of quirky character roles, despite his leading-man looks.

George Clooney springs to mind, but even he has fought public battles with the paparazzi over the need to respect celebrities' privacy. Clooney himself seemed to recognize the legacy Newman left in reacting to his death Saturday morning: "He set the bar too high for the rest of us ... not just actors, but all of us. He will be greatly missed," he said — through his publicist.

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