Goodbye Bill Paxton

Here's how I met Bill Paxton.

One of my best friends and my best man Scott Thomson was filming Twister in Ponca City, Oklahoma. Coincidentally, Scott was going to have a rather significant birthday while he was shooting. So the wife and I decided to fly out there and throw him a surprise party to celebrate the occasion. We also thought it might be a hoot to take in the sites Ponca City had to offer—one of which was the WalMart on a Saturday night. Whole other post.

Anyway, with Apollo 13 taking off (no pun intended), in order not to be bothered Bill didn't use his own name when he checked into hotels. In one of the conversations we had while he was filming, Scott happened to drop the name Bill did use. I made note of it, then called the luxurious Holiday Inn the cast was staying at, got hold of Bill and we proceeded to plan Scott's party.

Unfortunately, on the weekend we were going to have it, Bill was going to be in Houston doing PR for Apollo 13. But we set it up, and since we were flying in on Friday would have a chance to speak with him before he took off for his home state of Texas.

Bill was one of Scott's best friends, and we'd heard a lot about him over the years. We were excited to meet him.

Scott introduced us, and with a firm handshake and smile as wide as Texas—with a drawl to go along with it—Bill said hi to us. He was gracious, funny, energetic and didn't let on at all we'd been talking and planning Scott's party.

I don't remember exactly what my wife said to him, but the answer Bill gave in his Texas drawl, with a little Elvis thrown in, is a line we use to this day, and deliver in Bill's voice: "That's right baby.""

The next time I met Bill was at an Academy screening of a film he directed called Frailty. He was in a whirlwind that night, but he took time to speak with me and we reminisced a bit about the time we spent on set with him watching them film Twister.

My other memory of the party by the way is being in the basement of the Ponca City VFW, playing Barrel Of Monkeys with Helen Hunt, which I wrote about briefly here. She won, but I don't hold it against her.

You hear the term "underrated" a lot when people write or speak about Bill Paxton. But it doesn't quite jive with the place he held in the industry. Well respected and well liked by his peers, he was money in the bank. A guaranteed great performance given with everything he had, regardless of the medium, the material or the location.

Just this week I watched Bill in A Simple Plan, one of my favorite films. I know from Scott he had a less than fun time filming the movie, but testimony to his exceptional talent, it's one of the best performances he's ever given. There are dozens of reviews to back me up on that.

I'm going to miss Bill. He was always a bright light for me whenever I saw him on screen. Rare as an actor, even rarer as a person, Bill was one of those personalities deeply liked by everyone he encountered.

There was so much more of his talent to be revealed. But for now, all I can do is be grateful for having met him, and the work he leaves behind.

That's right baby. Rest in peace.

Goodbye to one of the greats

This picture of Phillip Seymour Hoffman is what he looked like when I met him. On the right is my best friend and best man Scott Thomson. As you can probably guess, the photo is from the movie Twister.

Scott was in Ponca City, Oklahoma for months filming Twister, and it just so happened he was going to be there through one of his more significant birthdays. My wife and I decided we'd surprise him, so I called Bill Paxton (under his alias at the hotel) and together we arranged a surprise party for Scott.

Let me just say you haven't lived until you've partied on a Saturday night at the VFW in Ponca City. Helen Hunt and I were playing barrel of monkeys. Long story.

Anyway, Scott introduced my wife and me to many members of the cast, including Phillip. My memory of him is just this electric energy, this bigger than life character that also came across in the movie.

Obviously you didn't have to meet him to be a huge fan of his remarkable talent. From the music critic in Almost Famous, to the author in State And Main, the sad sound man in Boogie Nights, the disgruntled team manager in Moneyball, the heavy in Mission Impossible, his Oscar-winning performance in Capote and fifty-eight other films, to me he was like the Gene Hackman of his generation. It didn't matter if the film was good or bad, Hoffman was always a shining light, the extraordinary performance to look forward to that would elevate the work to an entirely different level.

I think the fact I got to meet him makes his death even sadder. He'd struggled with heroin addiction for years, even entering rehab last May.

I always used to wonder about stars of a certain era and stars of today. I used to say will we feel the same way about, for example, Bruce Willis passing as we did about Jimmy Stewart? Phillip Seymour Hoffman was one of today's golden era. He was the real deal.

At one point in Charlie Wilson's War, Hoffman's character says, "It was nothing."

Watching Phillip Seymour Hoffman on screen was something.

Rest in peace.