Day 386

Monday, February 3, 2014

With the Super Bowl glow slowly dimming, the tragic death of Philip Seymour Hoffman is taking over my thoughts.  He was one of the very best and loved by everyone.  It goes to show you how powerful addiction can be.  I wonder if he felt overwhelmed by everything.  I know that when I'm feeling overwhelmed, I fall apart so quickly.  He had three small kids and was so busy and in demand all the time.  That must have taken a toll, though I wouldn't know because I know next to nothing about his life.  All I know is that he was always good.  I actually have The Master checked out from the library.  I'm halfway through.  It's beautifully shot, but the storyline is not that interesting to me.  Hoffman, however, dominates the film, as he did in nearly every film he was in.  I first noticed him in The Talented Mr. Ripley, where I thought he was incredible.  So smug and entitled.  I loved it.  Happiness was shocking in its raw helpless humanity.  He was so human so much of the time.  Even in tent pole movies, he was real.  What a sad loss.  It's a James Dean kind of loss, but for completely different reasons.  He was Brando caliber without the sex appeal.  Maybe that was why he was so likeable.  He looked like us.  He was us.  In a world so full of huckster fakery, he was so unbeautifully real.


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