The mastery of Philip Seymour Hoffman


The villain has been captured, beaten and tied to a chair, but he’s still the one in control. He sits motionless, unnerving our heroes with his silence and composure. Then his blue eyes open, piercing the droning gloom of the airplane cabin before settling on superspy Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise). The eyes take the measure of the man, sweeping him for weaknesses and finding a whopper. Then comes the voice, a drowsy drawl spiked with serpent’s venom.

The Talented Mr. Hoffman · Oscar winner Philip Seymour Hoffman, who died last Sunday in New York City, was one of the finest actors of his generation. - Photo courtesy of Associated Press

The Talented Mr. Hoffman · Oscar winner Philip Seymour Hoffman, who died last Sunday in New York City, was one of the finest actors of his generation.
– Photo courtesy of Associated Press

“What the hell is your name? You have a wife? A girlfriend? Because you know what I’m going to do next? I’m gonna find her, whoever she is, I’m gonna find her, and I’m gonna hurt her.”

On paper, this is generic bad guy dialogue, the kind regularly spouted by any number of transposable big-screen heavies. But as delivered by Philip Seymour Hoffman, playing slovenly arms dealer Owen Davian in J.J. Abrams’s Mission: Impossible III, it’s the stuff of nightmares. Why? Maybe it’s the way Hoffman frames the line as a promise rather than a threat, foregoing any hint of theatrical villainy. Davian isn’t stroking a white cat or affecting a posh accent; he’s a vicious, vindictive thug willing to go to unspeakable lengths to prolong his enemy’s suffering. In contrast to the fantastical stunts and storylines that make up the rest of the film, Hoffman’s casual sadist feels nauseatingly real. This was the actor’s great gift: the ability to elevate and enliven any project he worked on, from Broadway plays (Death of a Salesman) and festival circuit gems (The Savages) to Hollywood blockbusters (The Hunger Games: Catching Fire).

The worlds of stage and screen suffered an immeasurable loss last Sunday when Hoffman was found dead in his Manhattan apartment, the victim of an apparent heroin overdose, a habit he had privately struggled with for years. The actor, widely considered one of the greatest of his generation, leaves behind an eclectic, incomparable body of work that spanned over two decades and nearly 60 films. Although he was often recognized for his transformative, Oscar-winning turn as Truman Capote in Bennett Miller’s eponymous 2005 film, Hoffman had already spent years becoming an accomplished character actor, embodying roles that ran the gamut from lonesome dreamers to loathsome schemers.

After years of bit parts in movies such as Scent of a Woman, Hoffman scored a supporting role in writer-director Paul Thomas Anderson’s 1997 porn industry epic Boogie Nights, where he played a bashful, overweight boom-mike operator who develops an unhealthy infatuation with adult film star Dirk Diggler (Mark Wahlberg). A year later he appeared in the Coen Brothers’ The Big Lebowski as Brandt, a born yes-man whose sycophantic devotion to his aged boss makes The Simpsons’ Smithers seem subdued by comparison, and turned in an utterly fearless performance as a chronic masturbator in Todd Solondz’s pitch-black comedy Happiness.

The critical acclaim Hoffman received from Boogie Nights and Happiness propelled his career forward, allowing him to collaborate with the likes of Matt Damon and Cate Blanchett in 1999’s The Talented Mr. Ripley and reteam with Anderson for his San Fernando Valley ensemble piece Magnolia, where he played a male nurse attending to a TV producer with terminal cancer. He also gave one of his all-time greatest performances in Cameron Crowe’s Almost Famous as Lester Bangs, the homebody rock critic who urges the film’s young protagonist (Patrick Fugit) to be “honest and unmerciful” toward his preening, drug-addled subjects. Despite only appearing in a few scenes, Hoffman’s character provides that film with its spirit of bruised optimism, especially when he delivers this crucial line: “The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what we share with someone else when we’re uncool.”

The next few years afforded Hoffman the chance to expand his already considerable range, playing a meddling journalist who gets flambéed by a serial killer (Ralph Fiennes) in the Hannibal Lecter prequel Red Dragon and an introverted high school teacher with a crush on one of his students in Spike Lee’s 25th Hour. He also stole nearly all of his scenes as a petulant former child star in Ben Stiller’s gross-out comedy Along Came Polly, a movie that peaks in quality the moment when Hoffman’s character explains what the word “sharted” means.

Shortly after his Oscar win for Capote, the increasingly in-demand actor co-starred with Ethan Hawke in Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead, the final work by legendary director Sidney Lumet (Dog Day Afternoon, 12 Angry Men). The film, a crime drama revolving around two brothers who unwisely plan to rob a jewelry store owned by their elderly parents, features Hoffman performing what is arguably the best wordless trashing of a room since Citizen Kane.

The late 2000s seemed to bring out of the best in Hoffman. While critics were divided on the merits of adapting Doubt from the Pulitzer-winning stage play, they agreed that he was marvelous as a Catholic priest plagued by allegations of sexual abuse, setting off a wave of accolades that ended in yet another Best Supporting Actor nomination – he’d been nominated the previous year for playing an eccentric CIA official in Charlie Wilson’s War. Hoffman also gave his most compelling lead performance in Charlie Kaufman’s brilliantly maddening directorial debut Synecdoche, New York, where he portrayed a dying New York theater director obsessed with committing the totality of his life to the stage.

Hoffman’s career-defining role, however, is undoubtedly Lancaster Dodd in Anderson’s The Master, a film destined to be reevaluated as a modern American classic. His honey-toned spiritual charlatan is all airtight bluster and mannered grandiosity, at least until he confronts a dissenter head-on and the cracks begin to show. The scene where he “processes” the twitchy, possibly psychotic Freddy (Joaquin Phoenix) is absolutely spellbinding, like witnessing two finely tuned instruments duel in unison. It’s a shame that one of them has now fallen silent. Yes, a great talent has taken his leave of this world, and the world can’t help but feel poorer for his passing.

Landon McDonald is a graduate student studying public relations.  His column, “The Reel Deal,” runs Thursdays.

 

1 reply
  1. McGruff
    McGruff says:

    So the takeaway from Mr. Hoffman’s life and death is that drugs aren’t such a good thing after all, even if our government eases its stance on legalization.

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