The master

“I try to live my life in such a way that I don’t have profound regrets.”

— Philip Seymour Hoffman in New York Times Magazine, 2008

[Originally posted February 2014 on my Tops page. I'm posting it again today in honor of PSH's birthday.]

In the short space of about 23 years, Philip Seymour Hoffman made his mark as one of the most talented actors of his or any other generation. When I heard of his passing Feb. 2, since I didn’t know him, I could only respond as a fan would respond – selfishly bemoaning the loss of another brilliant talent to drugs. I think Lena Dunham said it well in her tweet about our loss of the joy he brought due to such a joyless act.

But I quickly moved from the sadness to thinking specifically about the joy – his many performances that touched me. Some of them were small parts, as in the 1994 comedy starring Paul Newman, “Nobody’s Fool,” and the 1998 romantic comedy, “Next Stop Wonderland,” with Hope Davis. And then there were his major roles in films like 2008’s “Doubt” and his best actor Oscar-winning turn in the 2005 biopic “Capote.”

Hoffman had a great collaboration going with director Paul Thomas Anderson over the years, starting with “Hard Eight” in 1996 and followed by “Boogie Nights” in 1997, “Magnolia” in 1999, “Punch-Drunk Love” in 2002, and ending with “The Master” in 2012. I can only assume they worked well together because of the frequency and fullness of their collaborations. My favorites in that bunch are his sadly sweet porno groupie Scotty J in “Boogie Nights” and his deeply sympathetic nurse Phil Parma in “Magnolia.”

What I look for most in a movie is to be drawn completely into the world on the screen, which requires believable characters. Hoffman was always believable. Sure, he teetered dangerously close to giving himself away as Truman Capote in “Capote,” but I grant him some leeway there because Capote was such an outsize character, a tremendous personality, to begin with, and Hoffman pulled it off anyway.

Fortunately, Hoffman was not one of those actors who is so famous it is impossible to see him as anyone other than himself. I knew little about his private life, so none of that baggage entered into his performances for me. He had the skill and the freedom to become the character, and he did so whether the role was big or small. And what an eclectic bunch of roles they were. 

I regret I was never able to see his acclaimed performance in “Death of A Salesman” on Broadway. According to Steve Martin, “If you missed him as Willy Loman, you missed a Willy Loman for all time.” But I am thrilled to have experienced his work on the big screen. That’s the great thing about the cinematic arts – your work lives on long after your body calls it quits. Here’s my list of favorites starring PSH. If there are any you haven’t seen, do so immediately!

1. “Synecdoche, New York” (2008)
2. “Magnolia” (1999)
3. “Doubt” (2008)
4. “Capote” (2005)
5. “Boogie Nights” (1997)
6. “Next Stop Wonderland” (1998)
7. “Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead” (2007)
8. “The Master” (2012)
9. “The Talented Mr. Ripley” (1999)
10. “Nobody’s Fool” (1994)

I recognize Hoffman had many other marvelous performances, but my list is based on the ones I have seen (naturally) that made the biggest impression on me. I’ll wrap by repeating my initial Facebook post about his passing:

One of my favorite Philip Seymour Hoffman performances was in the deep, strange little Charlie Kaufman indie pic, "Synecdoche, New York," which features one of my favorite songs of all time, “Little Person" by Jon Brion. The song is especially poignant in light of Hoffman's passing. He was such a brilliant actor, but obviously we need more than brilliance to keep the demons at bay. RIP PSH.

Little Person by Jon Brion I'm just a little person. One person in a sea. Of many little people. Who are not aware of me. I do my little job. And live my little life. Eat my little meals. Miss my little kid and wife. And somewhere maybe someday.

The impossible plan

A SCENIC VIEW

Ving Rhames (from left), Jean Reno, Emmanuelle Beart and Tom Cruise in "Mission: Impossible."

To say Ethan Hunt of “Mission: Impossible” is a resourceful man is like saying water is wet. A spy is nothing if not quick, cunning and pro-active, and the A-types like Ethan are so appealing when at their best – doing their dangerous dirty work for queen and country, or in Ethan’s case, for president and country. In anticipation of the July 31 release of "Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation," I'm reflecting on one of my favorite scenes from the "Mission: Impossible" franchise.

What I like best about Hunt is how methodical he is. So many people are mesmerized by the action sequences, which are spectacular, but I care more about the cerebral aspects of “the game.” That is why the first “Mission: Impossible” (1996), directed by Brian DePalma, is my favorite. It is the most thoughtful film of the franchise, filled with the most mind games and compelling characters like Max, played with relish by Vanessa Redgrave, and rogue operative Krieger, played by Jean Reno. Some fans and critics complained that it was overly complicated, but it’s a criticism that seems silly nearly 20 years later when you compare its plot with other action thrillers. I would also argue that it has rather plausible scenarios for a spy film apart from that ridiculous, but riveting final action sequence with the helicopter in the train tunnel.

The most thrilling aspect of these kinds of films is the execution of “the great plan” – and this film’s scenes of discussing and executing a master plan rival any ever shot in terms of bravado and suspense. It begins with Ethan pitching his plan to the people he needs to execute it.

“Relax Luther - it’s much worse than you think.”

— Ethan Hunt in "Mission: Impossible"

Ethan has been disavowed from his spy agency, the IMF, because they believe he is a mole who has betrayed the agency, which is revealed in a great scene early in the film between Ethan and the head of the IMF played by Henry Czerny (“Kittredge, you’ve never seen me very upset.”). Claire, one of Ethan’s original team members played by Emmanuelle Béart, has joined him in recruiting a new team – just two more people – to pull a job that will enable Ethan to negotiate with the true mole and ideally bring him or her to justice.

Because they were operating outside of the IMF, Ethan and Claire had to pick people who are also disavowed – ex-operatives from the agency. They went with slick computer hacker Luther Stickell, played by Ving Rhames, and Krieger, the gruff, all-around handy guy who can get things and fly helicopters into tight places.

The quintessential scene in the movie is the vault scene – when Ethan is dangling in mid-air in a strategically secured vault at CIA headquarters trying to obtain the top secret file he needs to get out of the trouble he is in and potentially save the lives of all IMF undercover agents (by putting them at risk). But my favorite scene is the one that precedes the CIA headquarters shenanigans – the scene when Ethan describes their objective in his efforts to convince Luther and Krieger to do the job. It is a simple objective that requires a clever and meticulous plan to overcome seemingly insurmountable odds – that’s the formula. And you have to have a character like Ethan Hunt played by the pre-eminent superstar of his generation Tom Cruise to exude the confidence, charisma and, of course, skill to make the audience root for them to get the job done.

It is tightly shot in a train compartment with Ethan and Claire sitting across from Luther and Krieger as Ethan drops one devastating piece of news after another – we have to break into CIA headquarters, the vault we have to enter has temperature and pressure sensors and requires a code key we won’t have … It’s thrilling to hear him list everything they are up against as matter-of-factly as if he was describing how to change a tire and to see the expressions and utterances of shock and disbelief on Luther and Krieger’s faces as if they were watching a train wreck.

Yet with all the confidence of an A-type who knows he has planned everything to perfection, as well as wonderfully wry humor employed for good measure, Ethan convinces the guys to come along for the ride and assures them of their eventual success. When he says, “We’re going to do it,” at the end of the scene, he leaves no room for doubt. And when the “Mission: Impossible” theme kicks in right after his line and the scene shifts to Langley, Va., the excitement is all about seeing how they’re going to do it – not if. 

The restoration of Amy Winehouse

Amy Winehouse

When I first heard Amy Winehouse’s breakout hit, “Rehab,” I was not impressed. I’m not fond of the 1950s sound that was being emulated, and the basic defiant lyrics were sending a simple message that seemed pretty unhealthy to me. Although I never judge a music artist by one track, I didn’t rush right out to hear the other songs on Winehouse’s “Back to Black” album, even though so many people whose musical taste I respected were completely in love with it.  

It was around six months later that I was riding in my niece’s car, and she started playing Winehouse’s first album, “Frank.” From the first track – “Stronger than Me” – I was hooked. Every song resonated with me, especially the lyrics. And because I am a tremendous jazz fan, I was excited by Winehouse’s interpretations of jazz standards, especially on the deluxe edition of “Frank.” Her love and respect for jazz immediately took her to the top of my list of current favorite female vocalists – a space she shared with Lizz Wright.

But even though Winehouse was one of my favorite musical artists, I foolishly took her voice for granted until my mother heard a Winehouse song in my car and asked, “Who is that? She can really sing.” My mother does not hand out such compliments casually, and she’s from the old school, when people really did sing. As I answered her I thought, “She’s right. Amy really can sing.” It may seem absurd, but her incredible voice was not even the first thing that registered with me when hearing her music. It was the totality of the lyrics, music and voice. I also loved that she was a musician – even writing an unexpected love song to her guitar called “Cherry.” And she was all about the band, passionately railing against the use of “fake” instruments in her music.

Thanks to the media, everyone knew Winehouse was a troubled artist, but that often comes with the territory for the great ones, and I hoped she would somehow overcome her demons, outpace her self-destructive nature. Sadly, she did not, and the road to her untimely demise plays out logically, albeit senselessly, in the documentary “Amy,” released last weekend.

The best thing about the documentary for me was hearing her vocals on so many unreleased tracks. I was blown away by her cover of “Moon River” from when she sang with the National Youth Jazz Orchestra in London as a teenager. Many superlatives have been used to describe her singing style, but even though her poignancy comes across in her studio releases, hearing her on the outtakes and in live performances in the film was deeply moving. Director Asif Kapadia displayed the lyrics for many of the songs as she sang, which I thought was an effective way to ensure the audience was conscious of her brilliant lyrics especially since her delivery would never be described as crisp.

Kapadia was blessed with a lot of footage and commentary from all the major players in Winehouse’s life, including her family and closest friends. Watching this film, I was able to appreciate her love of her craft and her work ethic when she was allowed the time and space to create. I saw the obsessive love she felt for her husband and the toxic concoction of their relationship unfold to a nearly lethal end. I learned how desperate she was for boundaries in her youth as well as her father’s love and acceptance. I was impressed with how self-aware and endearing she was with her real friends, even when she screwed up, and with her genuine respect and admiration for her idols like Tony Bennett. I was appalled but not surprised by the media’s efforts to devour her. And I was amazed that this beautiful, talented woman was so determined to evade her suffering with even more suffering, so much so that her heart finally just stopped.

I made it through most of the documentary in a mode of clear-eyed consumption, but the final 20 minutes, particularly the footage of her when she won the Grammy for album of the year, kicked off the water works. It was wonderful to see her happy in that moment, proud to be hearing her name called by Tony Bennett, and then it was crushing to hear her best friend say that Winehouse swept her backstage to tell her how boring that indelible experience was without being high.

The film sugarcoats nothing yet flings no judgments - at least not at Winehouse. The commentary conveys the honest helplessness of those who love someone in the throes of addiction, and the images show the expressiveness of an artist trying to be herself and fend off her vulnerability while under a microscope. I often complain about the intrusion of video cameras in people’s lives, but I’m grateful the filmmakers had so much footage of Winehouse in her element during moments when she wanted the camera to be there. It captured her mischievous spirit and raw talent, and she in turn captured our hearts.  

The word rehabilitate means to restore to good health or condition. Some critics are saying this movie is restoring Winehouse’s image after all the bad press she received in her last few years that seemed to make a mockery of her. But I don’t think her image needed restoring for the people who appreciated her gifts. In that regard, she was right – she did not need to go to rehab. She desperately needed rehab for her personal afflictions, but she was restored to her best self every time she was immersed in her music.

"AMY" documentary HD trailer