Escape. Ah, the desire to escape. To escape to some netherworld and be free of all the tensions of existence as a human being, the arguments, the daily pains in the butt, the disappointments, the losses. For life, unfortunately, is often frustrating, boring, burdensome, and not what we would wish it to be. Hence the desire to escape into some fantasy land where one is free from all this tension. Philip Seymour Hoffman fell prey to this desire to escape, and it cost him his life. This, of course, is a great artistic tragedy, as it has robbed us of one of the most gifted artists on the planet.
Hoffman was the kind of actor who drew viewers in, with such a magnetic personality that made you curious about his characters. He was a disillusioned rock critic who said things many have wanted to say in Almost Famous, then as a charismatic step and fetch it for a wealthy fellow in The Big Lebowsky. Who could forget his oh so accurate portrayal of Truman Capote, and man to whom he bore, on the outside, so little resemblance. But it was not the outside where Hoffman's talent lay, of course, but on the inside, for it was his ability to put so much feeling and nerve into his characters that made them seem so real. Some of his later portrayals, like the cynical fringe icon in The Master, were a bit depressing, and perhaps it was this side of his personality that made him seek escape.
Who could not feel, like those of us who loved and were excited by his performances, that we have lost a little of ourselves with this great man's death. We will have to be content with the great films that he has left us with, that have given him a taste of immortality.
Hoffman was the kind of actor who drew viewers in, with such a magnetic personality that made you curious about his characters. He was a disillusioned rock critic who said things many have wanted to say in Almost Famous, then as a charismatic step and fetch it for a wealthy fellow in The Big Lebowsky. Who could forget his oh so accurate portrayal of Truman Capote, and man to whom he bore, on the outside, so little resemblance. But it was not the outside where Hoffman's talent lay, of course, but on the inside, for it was his ability to put so much feeling and nerve into his characters that made them seem so real. Some of his later portrayals, like the cynical fringe icon in The Master, were a bit depressing, and perhaps it was this side of his personality that made him seek escape.
Who could not feel, like those of us who loved and were excited by his performances, that we have lost a little of ourselves with this great man's death. We will have to be content with the great films that he has left us with, that have given him a taste of immortality.