Thoughts on the death of Philip Seymour Hoffman

On hearing about the death of Philip Seymour Hoffman, I was shocked and saddened, as were many people around the world. I have been a longtime fan of this critically acclaimed actor, but not in a typical “fan” way. I didn’t swoon when he appeared on screen; he was not classically handsome. I didn’t daydream about a random encounter in a Hollywood café, where he was immediately struck by my dynamic personality and winning smile. If I fantasized about meeting Hoffman, it would be in the lobby of a respectable playhouse, during the intermission of some distinguished production he was attending. I would make a witty comment which he would overhear while waiting for his wife to return from the restroom. We would strike up a conversation that would leave him with an indelible impression of that random stranger with a thick southern twang.

I respected the man, and perhaps even envied him. He had a gift and unlike many of us, he was actually using his talents (to what was certainly maximum capacity). And we were an appreciative public. His characters were sometimes relate-able, sometimes confounding, but always complex- often that questionable kind of character you felt guilty for supporting.

I use to think of Philip Seymour Hoffman as an “everyman” but now I think that moniker is much too simple. He was a “super everyman:” an alternating “everyman high” with an “everyman low.”

To learn that someone was clean for 23 years and then have a (fatal) relapse is a hard pill to swallow. For people with substance abuse issues, it is particularly harrowing. But I wager to say it causes alarming discomfort in almost everyone. We are all vulnerable. At any time our demons could rear their ugly heads.

So when I remember this phenomenal talent, I’ll remember him as a super everyman, who was brave enough to share his talents with the world. As sad as I am to see him go, I sure am glad he was here.