Paying Tribute to Philip Seymour Hoffman
Philip Seymour Hoffman (July 23, 1967 – February 2, 2014, on a Sunday, which not just I but any other fan of Hoffman can hardly forget, anymore.)
Before writing any article, you
should do your research, I heard someone say from inside of me. I knew nothing
of that person inside. It wasn’t someone I met on the way or someone who taught
me at college or high school; I did not hear the voice from my memory either. It
was, so to speak, a thought. To write this article, this tribute to Hoffman, I do
not need any more research than a devotee needs to approve of God’s existence.
The
News
Through the haze of an allergic
weekend, it hit me.
I was all tired and dull due to
runny nose, painful cheeks and heavy forehead, symptoms of allergy. The mild
winter of the Southern side brings along with it a blanket of dust and all
other allergic particles. Sensitive noses like mine always catch these and wail
at the aftermath. I heard a passing news statement while dining in the adjoin room.
The TV is in the central hall and it plays mostly Malayalam news channels, as
other members of my family prefer these. Apparently, these channels offer
little or no info on what happens to the rest of the world. For them the boundaries
of the world are the boundaries of Kerala. Occasionally, when someone dies or
being elected, they tune into the wider spectrum, meaning the wider areas
inside the Indian subcontinent.
That is all.
Hoffman’s death was a passing
news item.
No flash news, no breaking
story.
I spent the next one day in
relative seclusion, inside my room. Getting up and walking around was too hard
a thing for me then. I was having difficulty in focusing anything for too long.
Everything else was vague, other than the heavy forehead.
It is still unclear, if it was
the allergy or the magnitude of the news, it dawned on me, only later, that Hoffman
is no more.
The
Man
I do not know him as an
individual. Hoffman’s death though mirror’s in certain terms, the death of one
of my favorite pop stars—Michael Jackson. Drug overdose or abuse, as some news
reports say, might have killed Hoffman too. I do not know this either that what
prompted a persona, with such a magnificence in his being should do drugs or
should come down to so terrible a moment, nearing the end of his life.
My first and ever remembering
performance by Hoffman is in Capote,
the 2005 movie based on Gerald Clarke's biography Capote, directed by Bennett
Miller. I have included Capote in my
series on TIC for one of the three of the movies about writers that impressed
me—as the first one among the three others.
The
Artist
“It's the hardest when someone
has a notion about you and it's impossible to convince them otherwise.”—Truman
Capote in Capote (film 2005)
Perhaps, because of the same
reason, we never tire of admiring this man’s talents in acting. In his field, Philip
Seymour Hoffman has set a standard for others. His legacy would be this
standard of performance that includes multifaceted arena of acting. He did not
just act with his body, but also with his whole being. Even his voice, in Capote, was magically morphed into the
character’s.
For me, Truman Capote will be Philip
Seymour Hoffman; and as an individual, who lived at the same time as his, I will
share this fortunate encounter with the generations to come.
Image Courtesy: Hoffman |
Philip Seymour Hoffman, may
your soul rest in peace.
You can also check out my
review of Capote here
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