This Day in Death

2.2.13: Philip Seymour Hoffman – DEAD!

Filed under: Dead —James @ 9:28 am February 3, 2014

PHILIP_SEYMOUR_HOFFMANSigh. Someday I’ll win a real award, too. Until then, stealing spelling bee participation ribbons from fourth-graders will just have to do.

 

Philip Seymour Hoffman, considered one of the most talented actors of his generation, was found dead in his apartment yesterday after a suspected drug overdose.

Hoffman was a legit actor whose presence had an actual, measurable effect on the quality of the final product, and that’s entirely too rare. It’s downright bizarre how much credit and attention we give to actors considering how little they tend to contribute to Hollywood films beyond name recognition and Us Weekly Smoochability ratings. Excluding your Michael Caines and your Meryl Streepses and your Daniel Day-Lewi, most actors are pretty much just expected to not fall asleep on camera and they’re rewarded with riches on par with gifts brought to Egyptian gods. There are dozens of people who put more sweat and blood into any given production than your stars ever will; there are screenwriters to write the dialogue, directors to explain how to deliver it, and cue cards stapled to some poor stagehand’s face if Jennifer Aniston is too consumed with her acai berry cleanse to bother learning her lines. Costume, make-up, lighting, and audio departments take care of the rest on set. Editors will cut it together. Marketing will find a way to convince the public that they haven’t already seen this same claptrap a thousand times before. And, hell, you can probably just tie an actor’s torso to a wooden stake like you’re trying to keep a tomato plant from sagging if they can’t even grasp that “don’t fall asleep” thing. If Megan Fox somehow becomes self-aware and decides she can no longer in good conscience appear in a movie about ninja turtles from outer space, positively none of the film’s already-shaky integrity is compromised. Michael Bay just cracks open the clamshell packing on another Blandly Attractive Lady, plugs her into the circuit board, America collectively eats another Choco Taco for lunch, and exactly nothing changes.

But, uh, yeah. Hoffman kept it proper.

[…] he won in the best actor category for “Capote” (2005). As the eccentrically sociable, brilliantly probing and unflappably gay author of “In Cold Blood,“ Mr. Hoffman flawlessly affected the real-life Truman Capote’s distinctly nasal, high-pitched voice and the naturally fey drama of his presence. Writing in The Times, A. O. Scott described the film as being about a writer’s relationship with his work.

Well, it’s time to do what we always do when I’m too squeamish to make fun of a respected figure who died tragically; make fun of celebrities who barely understand computers *or* grammar by checking out some insincere tweets:

CARREY_TWEET

Jim Carrey and the Pure Moods album cover he inexplicably uses as his avatar start things out on a pretty classy note, actually. Then he realizes he’s gone 11 words without referencing himself and proceeds to throw some vague existential tortured artist bullshit out there to make sure people realize that he only did Mr. Popper’s Penguins to draw attention to the very real threat of interspecies choreography mishaps. He wraps everything up with an emoticon of… I’m guessing a snooty French waiter with a stye in his right eye.

WHOOPI_TWEET

I have no idea why Whoopi Goldberg thinks that putting dashes between words turns them into links, but it’s kinda adorable. Still, nobody hits random keys with less linguistic cohesion than Cher:

CHER_TWEET

Holy God, Cher. What alien language am I even looking at? How does a person survive the kind of seismic muscle spasm that produced this gibberish without severe nerve damage? This one has the works; sentence fragments! Lack of proper spacing! Letters and numbers replacing words! Random capitalization! Pointless emoticons! Missing apostrophes! Arbitrary line breaks like she thinks she’s E.E. goddamn Cummings! And for some reason a picture of a birthday cake following the kind of meaningless and irrelevant faux-profound simile that makes Jim Carrey’s new age pablum look like the Tao of Hank Hill. I’m tappin’ out, Cher. You done broke my brainbits.

 

Source: The NY Times (Tweets collected by E Online)

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