Philip Seymour Hoffman (1967-2014)

Philip Seymour Hoffman and I did not get off on the right foot.  I grew up in a small town in Minnesota, as I've mentioned before, and so unlike those NY/LA raised cinephiles who can claim him since Scent of a Woman or Nobody's Fool, I didn't become aware of Phil until a USA airing of Boogie Nights (a film that no one should really see on anything other than premium cable, as it decidedly loses something), and I admit that I wasn't impressed.  This was clearly a man of skill, but not of a talent that I wanted.  The animosity deepened when he took Heath Ledger's Oscar in 2005 and somehow got an Oscar nomination in 2007 instead of Tommy Lee Jones or Max von Sydow.

That all changed, though, the first time that I saw Hoffman on the boards.  It was fairly recently (2012) and he was taking one of those quintessential stage roles and making it his own: Willy Loman.  One of the greatest plays ever written for the American stage, Hoffman found the deep anguish in Loman's forgotten dreams and anger at how he felt cheated by the promises of his youth.  Electric, magnetic, and absolutely marvelous.  I want to say it was my friend Pat who told me once (or at least he heard it somewhere, so he's getting the credit), "Philip Seymour Hoffman is a movie star trapped in the body of a character actor."  When I saw him on that stage, commanding the presence of everyone in the room with the thunder of his voice and the sheer awe that he expressed in every soliloquy, I understood what he meant.  Philip Seymour Hoffman was born to lead, not to follow.

That thought process pushed him to his greatest film role, which was released later that year.  As Lancaster Dodd in The Master, Hoffman finally found a role that combined his great stage presence with a character well-suited for such volcanoes of emotion and grandeur.  From the very moment he meets Joaquin Phoenix's Freddie to his weakness in the eyes of his wife to attacking poor Laura Dern in a dynamite moment of truth meeting a character's plans, Hoffman owned the screen.  He was nominated for an Oscar that year, and was heads-and-tails above all of his competitors even though he didn't win.

His moments on the earth and in the cinema were too brief, and no matter your opinions on the man, everyone had a favorite performance to admire about this titan of acting.  I will always remember sitting in the darkened Landmark Uptown, in awe of the presence he brought to The Master, and even more so, sitting next to my dad at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre watching him bring the house down.  When Philip Seymour Hoffman was on the stage, attention was sure to be paid.