Stunt work, slapstick, and action choreography rarely come packaged with this much charm, but that’s been the secret sauce for decades. Jackie Chan turned physical comedy into a global brand, and the credit count makes sense once you realize how often he was either starring, directing, or popping up in something. Police Story is still the purest snapshot of his “I’ll really do it” approach, with timing as sharp as the impacts. That mix of skill and reliability is why he never stayed off a set for long. | © New Line Cinema
It only takes a look, a pause, or a soft line reading to make a scene feel suddenly dangerous. The Silence of the Lambs cemented the legend, but Anthony Hopkins kept stacking credits because he’s just as effective in quiet dramas, TV work, and voice roles as he is in big studio films. He doesn’t oversell emotion; he lets it simmer, which directors love because it plays as intelligence on screen. The result is a filmography that feels both massive and unusually consistent. | © Orion Pictures
Some performers don’t need the spotlight – they steal it by standing in the right place and telling the truth too bluntly. Shelley Winters had that gift, and it’s why even supporting turns can feel like the whole movie tilting toward her. Drop her into something like The Night of the Hunter and the tension changes shape instantly. Between film and television, she worked constantly, bouncing from prestige to pulp without treating either like it was beneath her. | © Universal Pictures
A career this long only happens when you keep choosing roles that feel alive instead of safe. Susan Sarandon has always chased characters with edges – funny, messy, stubborn, sometimes all at once – and that’s how the credits pile up across decades. Thelma & Louise is the cultural cornerstone, but she’s also popped up in unexpected places that prove she’s never been precious about the “right” project. Even when a movie wobbles, Sarandon tends to land on her feet and make it worth watching. | © Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer
Old Hollywood loved a polished leading man, but the truly interesting ones knew when to crack the surface. That’s why The Lost Weekend still stands out: Ray Milland plays the spiral without trying to make it pretty, and the performance has teeth. He worked relentlessly through the studio era and into television, so his résumé balloons in a way modern stars rarely match. Romance, noir, drama, comedy – he could slide into almost anything and look like he belonged. | © Paramount Pictures
There’s an ease to his screen presence that makes even throwaway dialogue sound like a story. Michael Caine has been a go-to for decades because he can do cool, funny, heartbreaking, and quietly lethal without ever feeling like he’s “performing” at you. The Italian Job is shorthand for the swagger, but his credit total comes from saying yes to an enormous range of films – prestige dramas, thrillers, blockbusters, indies. When you’re that reliably watchable, the phone keeps ringing. | © Warner Bros. Pictures
The voice is the headline, but the durability comes from the authority and warmth he brought to everything else. Star Wars made him immortal, yet James Earl Jones spent years stacking film and TV roles that proved he wasn’t just a microphone legend. He could play power without cruelty, tenderness without softness, and that balance travels across genres. When a production needed instant gravitas, he was the obvious call – and the credit count reflects that demand. | © Roadside Attractions
If you tried to typecast him, he’d immediately take the opposite role just to prove you wrong. Donald Sutherland kept working because his range was slippery: charming one minute, unsettling the next, often with nothing more than a look. Mention MASH and you get the counterculture edge; mention The Hunger Games and you get late-career authority with a bite. He moved between eras and genres so naturally that “200 credits” feels less like a flex and more like the logical outcome. | © Lionsgate Films
Credibility is an underrated superpower, and he’s had it in every decade he’s worked. Danny Glover can walk into a scene and make it feel grounded, whether he’s leading the story or just giving it a jolt of reality in a supporting turn. Lethal Weapon is the pop-culture anchor, but the massive résumé comes from showing up everywhere – films, TV, guest spots, indies – without ever feeling like he’s phoning it in. You don’t build 205 credits by accident; you do it by being consistently useful. | © Significant Entertainment
By the time audiences met him as the drill instructor in An Officer and a Gentleman, he already had years of screen and stage work behind that authority. Louis Gossett Jr. could play warmth and steel at once – commanding without turning into a caricature – which is why he lasted across eras of TV and film. You can draw a straight line from his impact in Roots to the way prestige television later treated supporting performances as essential, not decorative. The résumé is huge because he kept being useful in stories that needed real weight. | © Paramount Pictures
You don’t become the face of classy horror by accident – you do it by making menace sound polite and irresistible. In the second scene you see him in House of Wax, Vincent Price is already doing that velvety “smile while the room gets colder” thing better than anyone. The wild part is how many lanes he covered while racking up credits: campy fun, genuine chills, TV hosting, voice work, and constant genre detours. Even when the material is pulpy, Price turns it into theater. | © 20th Century Studios
Pulp Fiction made him a walking quote machine, but the real story is the sheer mileage – blockbusters, indies, animation, and franchise after franchise, often in the same decade. Samuel L. Jackson shows up with that instantly recognizable rhythm, and somehow it doesn’t feel like autopilot; he recalibrates for the movie he’s in. One project wants him deadly serious, the next wants him comedic, the next wants him to anchor chaos with pure attitude. When people joke that he’s “in everything,” this credit count is what they mean. | © New Line Cinema
He had one of those faces that directors cast when they need instant history – tough, tired, and somehow still funny. Robert Loggia could be a villain, a dad, a cop, a mentor, or a guy who walks in and changes the scene’s temperature without raising his voice. Somewhere in the middle of his long run, Big reminded everyone he could steal laughs just as easily as he could sell menace. That’s how you end up with a career this crowded: range plus reliability. | © Universal Pictures
If you’ve watched enough classic Hollywood, you’ve seen this guy more times than you realized – usually anchoring the room with pure, lived-in presence. Ward Bond was practically part of the furniture in John Ford’s universe, always believable as the blunt friend, the weary authority figure, or the man who’s seen too much. The credit total isn’t a fluke; he worked constantly, often uncredited early on, because studios knew he delivered fast and clean. A perfect snapshot of that rugged dependability is The Searchers. | © NBC
There’s a reason he’s a genre fan’s cheat code: one line from him can make a B-movie feel like it has stakes. Michael Ironside specializes in intensity – sometimes villainous, sometimes heroic, often both in the same performance – so he kept getting hired across sci-fi, action, TV arcs, and voice work. Put him in something like Scanners and he instantly makes the premise feel dangerous instead of silly. That kind of credibility stacks credits quickly. | © Warner Bros. Pictures
Dracula is the obvious headline, but what’s crazier is how he kept reinventing the “legend” status across decades of totally different pop culture. Christopher Lee could bring grandeur to schlock and menace to prestige, which is why his filmography jumps from Hammer horror to global franchises without blinking. He’s equally memorable as Saruman in The Lord of the Rings and as Count Dooku, because he plays authority like it’s second nature. When someone works this long and this widely, 291 acting credits starts to feel inevitable. | © New Line Cinema
One lifetime doesn’t usually fit inside a single filmography, but his pretty much does – child star, box-office king, comeback artist, character actor, and everything in between. Mickey Rooney’s early run made him a household name long before modern celebrity culture, and he kept piling on roles even as Hollywood changed around him. He could be sweet, frantic, heartbreaking, or purely comic, often within the same year on the calendar. If you want the classic-era shorthand for his star power, it’s Babes in Arms. | © CBS
Silent-era Hollywood needed faces that could sell a scene in ten seconds flat, and The Cat and the Canary is a perfect reminder of how much mileage that could buy. Gertrude Astor moved from early stardom into decades of steady character work, popping up across comedy shorts, features, and later talkies with the kind of “oh, her again” familiarity. She had a knack for playing society types and sharp-tongued foils, then quietly sliding into bit parts without losing her presence. That longevity is how you get to 350 credits without ever feeling like a one-trick performer. | © Paramount Pictures
The résumé reads like a tour through American genres: Westerns, horror, Shakespeare, and just about any low-budget oddity that needed a voice with gravitas. You can catch him in prestige mode in The Grapes of Wrath, but the real engine of the total is how relentlessly John Carradine worked once the B-movie circuit became his playground. He’d show up as a preacher, a patriarch, a madman, a drifter – sometimes for a scene, sometimes for the whole ride – and still make it feel deliberate. That constant reinvention is why the credits kept stacking. | © United Artists
That mustache has wandered through more film and TV sets than most leading men, and it’s rarely wasted. Richard Riehle is the king of the “you’ve definitely seen him” role, whether he’s adding texture to a sitcom episode or grounding a studio movie with one perfectly timed reaction. Somewhere in the middle of all that, Office Space gave him an immortal character moment, but he’s been quietly boosting projects for decades beyond that. 435 credits happens when you’re both dependable and weirdly memorable. | © From Out of The Wood Work production
If you’ve ever watched a movie and thought, “Wait, is that the same guy from three different classics?”, there’s a decent chance it was him. Kung Fu Panda made James Hong’s voice instantly recognizable to a whole new generation, but the on-screen run stretches back through Hollywood history with an almost unfair level of range. He can play sly comedy, old-school authority, or full-on scene-stealing eccentricity without changing his temperature too much. The total keeps climbing because he’s the rare character actor who makes even the smallest role feel specific. | © A24
Machete turned him into a pop-culture icon, but the bigger flex is how often he shows up everywhere else – action movies, comedies, cameos, kids’ films, you name it. Danny Trejo has a face built for menace and a vibe built for humor, which lets him slide from tough-guy intimidation to self-parody without breaking the spell. He also started acting later than most, then worked like he was making up for lost time. That’s how you end up with 468 credits and still feel like you’re constantly spotting him in something new. | © Universal Pictures
Classic Hollywood ran on dependable character players, and The Ghost Walks is one of many places you’ll find the kind of working-actor utility he specialized in. Harry Strang lived in the ecosystem of clerks, cops, sheriffs, soldiers, and whoever needed to be in the background to make the world feel real. It’s not “stardom” in the modern sense – it’s pure volume, professionalism, and showing up ready. Over time, those small parts add up into a jaw-dropping 520 credits. | © Universal Pictures
There’s “prolific,” and then there’s the kind of output that feels like a statistical glitch. Runaway Train showed what Eric Roberts can do at full dramatic throttle, but the mountain of credits comes from saying yes to everything from indies to thrillers to quick TV turns. He has that slightly feral intensity that directors can plug into almost any genre and immediately raise the voltage. 851 credits isn’t a career arc – it’s a lifestyle. | © Northbrook Films
Most moviegoers have seen her without ever knowing her name, which is exactly why her record is so wild. Bess Flowers was the ultimate Hollywood extra – always where the world needed to feel crowded, glamorous, or just plain lived-in – moving through studio-era classics like she was part of the furniture. The fun is realizing how often she’s hiding in plain sight, including in titles like It Happened One Night. When your job is “be everywhere,” 1,045 credits starts to make a strange kind of sense. | © Bess Flowers
If you’ve ever watched an old movie and thought, “Wait – was that him again?”, you’re not imagining it. A handful of actors have built careers on sheer volume, popping up everywhere from studio classics to TV workhorses, voice roles, and blink-and-you-miss-it cameos.
These are the performers with the most acting credits ever – screen lifers who rarely stayed off a set for long. Some are household names, others are the ultimate “that guy,” but all of them turned consistency into a legacy.
