I’ll always remember Philip Seymour Hoffman’s death as a punch to the gut on a Super Bowl Sunday. Only 46, Hoffman leaves an incredible body of work behind him. Presumably, he had as many masterpiece performances ahead of him – performances that we will never see.
Hoffman could transform himself into characters of any level of self-esteem, intelligence and emotional affect. Even without the looks of a conventional leading man, Hoffman was magnetic. His characters – even in the minor supporting roles – were so vivid that they captivated the audience.
Hoffman has become a brand name actor in that, if he were in the movie, it was probably really good: Hard Eight, Boogie Nights, Happiness, The Talented Mr. Ripley, State and Main, Punch Drunk Love, 25th Hour, Capote (for which he won the Oscar), The Savages, Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead, Charlie Wilson’s War, The Invention of Lying, The Ides of March, Moneyball and The Last Quartet. Who else has been in that many outstanding movies since 1996? Even the movies that I didn’t embrace (Magnolia, Synecdoche New York, The Master) were ambitious, and Hoffman was good in them.
There are reports that Hoffman had 22 years of sobriety before he relapsed two years ago. If that’s accurate, his death is even more heartbreaking. That’s the thing with addiction – not everybody makes it.