Goodbye Brian Dennehy

I've mentioned before I was a theater arts major. You may have see my work in one of the early Sprint commercials. The director was Robert Lieberman, who used to be married to Mary Lou Henner. To this day, I believe I got the part because, at the time, I looked freakishly like him - so much so that everyone on the shoot thought I was his brother. It's always been a who you know town—or in my case, who you look like.

Even so, it wasn't enough to keep me from being cut from the spot before it aired. What was particularly depressing was I knew the editor who was cutting the spot, and she did everything she could to keep me in it, but no luck.

Showbiz. AmIrite?

Anyway, during those days I used to like to meet friends at The Palm for drinks. One time I arrived early, so I took a seat at the bar and ordered a screwdriver while I was waiting. Next to me, chatting with the bartender, was this big, loud, very funny guy who I heard but wasn't paying much attention to until he told a joke I couldn't help but overhear and laugh at.

He turned to me and said, "You liked that one?" It was Brian Dennehy.

Even before that encounter I was a fan of his. He was what I like to call a money-in-the-bank actor. Meaning you could never go wrong casting him in anything.

The wife and I had the extraordinary pleasure of seeing his towering performance as Willie Loman in Arthur Miller's Death Of A Salesman. I don't remember how many years ago it was, but the performance still haunts me. He won a Tony for it. He should have won all of them.

Brian Dennehy died a few days ago, and it didn't get nearly the press it would have if not for the virus that's taking up the news cycle 24/7. But if you've ever seen him in Cocoon, First Blood, Tommy Boy, Presumed Innocent or many others, you already know how big a talent has been lost.

Thank you for sharing your talent, and for the conversation at the bar. I'll never forget either.

Rest in peace.

What about Bob

Robert Redford has a movie coming out the end of the month. It's called The Old Man & The Gun. From the trailer, you can see Redford doing what he's always done: charming us with his talent, humor, intelligence and the twinkle that still shines in those knowing eyes.

The sad part is Redford, now a hard-to-believe 82-years old, has said he's retiring from acting after this film. Which got me to thinking that we're coming up fast on the end of an era.

Redford is one of the last of a golden generation of actors. Each time out, he gave us something different, but always intelligent whether he was in front of the camera or behind it. He never pandered to the audience, and you never got the feeling he was phoning it in for the payday. And while like all actors, some films were better than others, his instincts for quality material rarely failed him.

From Three Days of the Condor to All The President's Men to The Natural to The Way We Were to Ordinary People to Quiz Show to Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and even to fluff like Indecent Proposal, we believed he was who he said he was.

Redford brought his best game every time out. And we showed up to see it.

I was talking to the wife years ago about Indecent Proposal. I said it was about someone who got to sleep with Robert Redford for a million dollars. She said, "Great. Who do I have to pay?"

I realize each generation has its own stars, but really, will we feel the same way when Bruce Willis retires from cranking out the same movie over and over again? I'm guessing we won't.

As Roy Hobbes in The Natural, Redford said, "I've got to reach for the best that's in me." Somehow he always found it.

Thank you for sharing it with us.

Where's Wilford Brimley when you need him?

Wilford Brimley takes a lot of heat because of those stupid Quaker Oats commercials he did years ago. I didn't like 'em either, but I get it: there ain't no shame in making the rent.

From The China Syndrome to The Firm to The Thing to any number of other films that start with "The", Brimley has had an interesting career chock full of exceptional performances.

The one I want to talk about here is the character he played in a great, too-little-seen movie called Absence Of Malice, starring alongside Sally Field and Paul Newman. Brimley played Assistant U.S. Attorney General James A. Wells, a no nonsense, straight-shooting public servant who was going to do what it took to get to the truth.

He didn't suffer fools lightly.

Speaking of fools, I was watching the Senate committee hearings and the testimony, such as it was, of Jeff "I do not recall" Sessions today. While I was, it dawned on me how much more streamlined and quickly the proceedings would go if Brimley's character was doing the questioning.

Have a read of some of his quotes, and see how easy it is to imagine how much better things would be going if he was in charge.

"Now we'll talk all day if you want to. But, come sundown, there's gonna be two things true that ain't true now. One is that the United States Department of Justice is goin' to know what in the good Christ - e'scuse me, Angie - is goin' on around here. And the other's I'm gonna have somebody's ass in muh briefcase".

"You had a leak? You call what's goin' on around here a leak? Boy, the last time there was a leak like this, Noah built hisself a boat."

"Tell you what we're gonna do. We're gonna sit right here and talk about it. Now if you get tired of talking here, Mr. Marshal Elving Patrick there will hand you one of them subpoenas he's got stuck down in his pocket and we'll go downstairs and talk in front of the grand jury."

It only speaks to how surreal and desperate the current situation is that I'm wishing a fictional character would come rescue us.

But maybe it's going to take a fake person to get rid of a fake president.

Banjo boy

At just the right angle, the adult Billy Redden looks a bit like the late, great Robin Williams.

Whom, you might ask, is Billy Redden? He happens to be an actor who was in one of the most iconic scenes in motion picture history, playing the banjo boy in Deliverance. In a stunning moment, he winds up playing a musical duet, the now famous Dueling Banjos, with Ronnie Cox as Jon Voight, Ned Beatty (who has his own iconic moment in the film for an entirely different reason) and Burt Reynolds look on. Truth be told, it was a little Hollywood magic: it wasn't actually Billy playing. But that ain't no never mind.

As anyone who's in the industry knows, show biz can be a cruel tease. And the years and opportunities haven't been particularly kind to Billy. Few and far between, he has had other parts. He was in Tim Burton's Big Fish, and had a small part on Blue Collar as—wait for it—an inbred car mechanic who plays the banjo.

Currently, Billy is working in maintenance at WalMart, picking up trash among other things.

Like Andy Robinson, who did go on to a moderately successful career after playing the Zodiac-esque killer Scorpio in Dirty Harry, Billy was typecast fairly quickly at a young age. He reminds me of Ron Wayne, the third founder of Apple who sold his shares after nine days for $900. If he'd held on to them, they'd be worth $32 billion today. And while it's a fact Billy never flirted with that kind of fortune, I can't help think they're similar in that "what might've been" way. Given the right management, a little more training and a few lucky breaks, would he have been a household name, with a brilliant debut as a child actor?

In the few interviews I've read, it's clear I'm more bothered by it than he is.

The truth is he has a scene that any actor would kill for, one that will now and forever be an enduring part of film history. Every once in a while, I find myself in the mood to watch it. And it always brings me great joy when I do.

If he watches it, I hope Billy feels the same way.

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 John Hurt

British actor John Hurt died today of pancreatic cancer. In everything from Alien to The Elephant Man to three of the Harry Potter, his exceptional talent was on display in all its range and colors.

A few years ago I wrote this post—under the title of We Have Contact—about a lesser seen role of his that's always been one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy the clip of it.

The year isn't even a month old, and it's already claimed yet another one of the greats.

I'll miss John Hurt. He was one of those rare talents I always thought would be around forever. Fortunately all of his performances will.

The image many people have of John Hurt is of him thrashing around on the dining table of the space ship Nostromo with an alien bursting out of his chest.

Or maybe it's his grotesquely disfigured form in The Elephant Man, as he proclaims to Anthony Hopkins he is not an animal, he's a human being.

Younger moviegoers might know him as Mr. Olivander from the Harry Potter movies - including the next two of them.

But his one performance I think I enjoy most is one most people didn't see. His role as eccentric, reclusive, terminally ill billionaire industrialist S.R. Hadden in the Robert Zemeckis film Contact.

With a keen interest in space and extra-terrestrials, his character is compelling, creepy and brilliant all at the same time (not unlike a few creative directors I know).

I quote the line at the end of this scene all the time. Scares the hell out of my kids.

Missing Murray

He was the mayor in Jaws who wanted to keep the Amity beaches open, even though a great white shark was enjoying swimmers for appetizers.

He was Mr. Robinson in The Graduate, who couldn't bring himself to "shake hands" with Dustin Hoffman.

He was Murray Hamilton, one of the best character actors there ever was.

I know it seems like a random person to be writing a blogpost about. But, as the slogan at the top of the page reminds us all, random is the name of the game here at Rotation and Balance. Besides, I've always had great respect for character actors - this isn't the first time I've sung their praises here.

I can't remember the first time I ever saw Murray Hamilton, though I suspect it was on one of the original Twilight Zone episodes where he played Mr. Death. Of course, like most people, I know him best from Jaws and The Graduate.

Hamilton did all the classic television shows in his long career, which is why he pops up on reruns all the time. Inevitably people recognize him by face, if not by name.

I'm always in awe of people who do great work that stands the test of time, unlike, say, the disposable work no one wants or gives a second thought about in certain professions which will go unnamed.

Anyway, I saw him in some old movie today as I was flipping channels, and was reminded again how much I always enjoyed watching him.

Here's to you Murray Hamilton.

One for the ages

The elderly gentleman to the left, in case you didn't recognize him, is Burt Reynolds. Yes, that Burt Reynolds.

He made a rare public appearance at an east coast Comic Con, and because he's looking like a frail, ghostly version of his former movie star self, the press has had a field day. Let the speculation begin.

Here's what I think happened to Burt. He got old.

Reynolds is turning the corner on eighty. He's had a great life as an actor (at one time the most popular box office draw in the world), director, talk-show staple, star of television and commercials. The FedEx spot he did still makes me laugh.

Despite how hard we deny it, we're all standing on the tracks, and the age train's a comin'. And there are only two choices: board it gracefully, or hop on kicking and screaming. But either way, we're all going for the ride.

A while ago I started making this noise when I got out of my soft, comfy, low-to-the-ground reading chair. Then I realized it was my father's noise. My knees hurt every now and again (it's what kept me out of the 400-meter in Beijing in '08). And my eyesight, which is already corrected with progressive lens that bend walls if you look through them, is getting worse even as you read this.

And, as topping on the cake, I have gray hair. But my dad went gray when he was twenty-five years old, so I never stood a chance. There was this one time a bald colleague of mine started making fun of my gray hair, to which I replied, "You really want to get in a conversation about hair?" That felt good.

While father time waves his wand over all of us, it must be particularly hard on people like Reynolds who've been in the public eye since they were young. There's the line Julia Roberts says in Notting Hill about "becoming some sad, middle-aged woman who looks like somebody who was famous for awhile."

When Burt Reynolds was starting out, his calling card was the fact he looked like a double for Marlon Brando. It was a mixed blessing - it got him jobs and it cost him jobs. But the ones he got, he delivered on.

What with his marriage to and divorce from Loni Anderson, all the bad Smokey movies and the Playgirl centerfold it's understandable that sometimes people dismiss Reynolds' talent.

But then you have to take a minute and think about his performances in Deliverance, The Man Who Loved Cat Dancing, The Longest Yard, Starting Over, Sharky's Machine, Boogie Nights and The Player. Roles that betray his Brando wanna-be, pretty boy reputation.

Burt Reynolds has had several health problems over the years, including the one he's facing now: old age. In our youth driven time, it makes me sad an actor who's been so popular and entertained so many has to endure the speculation, lies and insults of a tabloid culture where vultures are swooping in literally even before the body's cold.

Someday, the paparazzi and hacks who've hounded him for years will be old and frail themselves. And I promise you one of the stories they'll spin over and over, because they can't remember they just told it ten minutes ago, is the one about the time they met Burt Reynolds.

The pleasure that is Platt

There's an entire class of actors I feel are underrated. They're usually something more than character actors, yet somewhat less than lead actors.

It's in this sweet spot that Oliver Platt lives. He's been one of my favorites for years.

Whether it's White House lead counsel in The West Wing, Warren Beatty's nervous, cocaine-fueled campaign manager in Bulworth, acidic restaurant critic Ramsey Michel in last year's Chef or Cameron's gay bowling adversary on last night's Modern Family, Platt's characters are fully realized, unique and completely organic. He couldn't make a false move if he tried.

Full disclosure: years ago I started writing a television show for Platt before my complete lack of discipline did me in. Again. I'm working on it, okay? Back off.

Anyway, it was about two lawyers who were also brothers. One went to prestigious Harvard law school, and the other went to the Saul Goodman law school in Samoa. Through a series of events, they wind up in practice together, and the néer-do-well brother winds up teaching his Harvard grad broheim a thing or two about the real meaning of the law.

Along the way, hilarity ensues.

Like so many other projects of mine languishing in a drawer or on a disc somewhere, I never finished writing it. But each time I see Oliver Platt onscreen, my muse is rekindled and I start thinking about maybe easing into working on it again.

He deserves a great show of his own, and I'd like to be the one to create it for him.

Like Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Gene Hackman, John Cazale, Jon Polito, Michael McKean and a dozen more, Oliver Platt's presence in a project elevates it far beyond where it would've been without him.

Of course now that I've spilled the beans on the lawyer/brother idea, I'll have to come up with something else.

I'll do my best to make it worthy of him.

Goodbye Richard Dysart

I've posted before about the many great people I've had the good fortune to work with.

Richard Dysart was one of them.

I was casting a radio spot and I need a homey, Pepperidge Farm kind of voice. When I heard Richard's read of my script, I knew I'd found it.

At the time, he was enjoying his long-running ride as Leland McKenzie on L.A. Law. Because of that, he was in demand and I recall scheduling the session was difficult. I was asked more than once to recast with a different talent so we could get moving on it, but after hearing Richard that just wasn't going to happen.

I remember the session well. We recorded it at L.A. Studios (always a favorite place to work). It was the day before I was going to have surgery for the second time on my right arm, which I'd broken in three places in a serious car accident years earlier. The doctors had to put in a steel plate to hold the bone together while it healed. Once it did, there was no need to keep the plate in, but there was also no need to have another surgery if I didn't have to. So it stayed in for seven years, until one day, while playing volleyball and taking several direct hits where the plate was, my arm swelled up to twice its size. The muscles were inflamed from the hits and the repeated action of them rubbing the edge of the plate.

I decided then and there it was coming out.

Talking to Dysart after our session, we talked about my upcoming surgery the next morning. He could see I was anxious about it, and he went out of his way to take the time to comfort and reassure me it would all turn out fine.

Which it did.

After the surgery, I don't know how but Richard got my home phone number and called to see how things turned out. I was surprised to hear from him - to say the least - but extremely appreciative for his call.

I never worked with him again, but enjoyed many of his performances beyond L.A. Law, including the doctor in John Carpenter's The Thing.

I'll always remember Richard Dysart as a great actor. But even more than that, a class act.

Rest in peace.

The other fugitive

Before Harrison Ford brought his own brand of "I am not Han Solo" to the role of Dr. Richard Kimble in The Fugitive, it had been a long-running, successful television series ("A Quinn Martin production") starring David Janssen.

I was a big fan of Janssen. He was a throwback to a time of leading men and movie stars. Very Humphrey Bogart in his approach, Janssen was the strong, silent, man of few words.

While it's not fair to compare, which I'm going to do, I always felt he was a more believable Richard Kimble than Ford was. What helped was that unlike the movie, the series wasn't burdened by a subplot involving faked samples for a new pharmaceutical drug - a distraction I never felt Kimble would be going after when his life was on the line. Janssen's portrayal was a pure story of a man on the run, trying to find his wife's real killer, and the adventures and experiences he had in the process.

At the time, the final two-part episode was the highest watched television show in history. I like to think part of the reason was because the building that stood in for the courthouse in the final episode was my junior high school auditorium (see the clip).

A few years after The Fugitive, Janssen starred in another successful show, Harry O, playing a private investigator working in San Diego. He brought many of the same character qualities to that part, and even though it didn't have the longevity or mythology of The Fugitive, I enjoyed it too.

Janssen was only 48 when he died of a heart attack in 1980. I'll miss seeing the performances he would've given.

Face the music

I have a lot of sympathy for actors, especially women, who feel they need to have a nip and tuck just to stay competitive in an industry that worships youth, and tosses anyone over thirty to the curb.

But as Joan Rivers, Jocelyn Wildenstein (the cat lady in New York) and Priscilla Presley would be the first to tell you, sometimes the results are less than what you hoped for.

I feel particularly sad for Lara Flynn Boyle.

I know she made the decision to do it, and I know she has to live with the consequences. But you have to wonder what she saw when she looked in the mirror that drove her to such extremes. It obviously wasn't the beautiful, talented actor the rest of the world saw.

I'm not a doctor. I don't even play one on TV. It's just my opinion that sometimes there's a thin line between doing what you have to do and mental illness.

LFB was in one of my favorite films ever, John Dahl's Red Rock West with Nic Cage. She also displayed her comedy chops in Wayne's World, and her very sinister side in The Temp. Sadly every time I see one of her films now, it's overlaid with a veneer of pity and sadness for her each time she's on screen.

Rumor has it she's had some corrective surgery to regain some semblance of her former self. But unless she has a DeLorean that goes 88 mph, I don't think her former looks are coming back any time soon.

I hear people joke about celebrities that have plastic surgery, but I get it. No one is harder and more critical of our physical looks than we are. Times a thousand for people who make a living being looked at by millions of people.

While it's obvious LFB won't get the roles she used to, I hope she's able to continue working in the industry. On her IMDB page, she's just completed a low-budget family film directed by the same person who did Gabe The Cupid Dog and Unstable.

Be that as it may, I'm grateful at least someone in town looks past the surface, and still sees a talented actor looking back.

Guilty pleasures Part 7: Edge Of Tomorrow

Yet another installment in the Guilty Pleasures series. If you haven’t been following it, I won't take it personally like so many other things - bad weather and heavy traffic to name a couple. Instead, I’ll just make it easy for you to catch up here, here, here, here, here and here.

But like a well written sequel (chuckles to himself for pretending to know the phrase “well written”), you don’t have to see the original to follow along with this latest installment.

Edge Of Tomorrow is part of the repeating-until-you-get-it-right genre of films. Also in the cannon are Groundhog’s Day, Looper, Source Code, Frequency, Run Lola Run and several others. It stars Tom Cruise and Emily Blunt, who clearly work well and have fun together.

Cruise plays a smarmy military PR hack who winds up getting volunteered into being a soldier and winds up having to kill the alien brain, which then kills all the aliens.

Or something like that.

The problem is he dies each time. But because he’s been exposed to the alien’s blood, he keeps rebooting his days and learning more each time out.

It’s clearly not an original concept, but it’s dished up in an extremely fun way. It’s an action and humor filled two hours of pure entertainment, which is what a summer get-the-aliens-before-they-get-us movie should be.

I’ve always liked Cruise. I don’t pay attention to the Scientology craziness, or how his marriage du jour is doing. I think he’s an extraordinarily talented actor, and a brave one.

Interview With The Vampire. Born On The Fourth Of July. Tropic Thunder. Collateral. Magnolia. Not a safe choice in the bunch. But Cruise takes them on – putting his vanity aside - and commits to the performances with an intensity not often seen in actors at any stage of their career.

He also happens to have been in several of my favorite movies: Jerry Maguire. A Few Good Men. Rain Man (where I felt he had a much more difficult role than Dustin Hoffman, who won an Oscar for his performance).

From the minute he slid across the hardwood floor in his underwear in Risky Business, Tom Cruise has been willing to do what it takes to entertain his audience.

Just like he does in Edge Of Tomorrow.

Hoskins in Hollywoodland

A great, great actor died yesterday. Bob Hoskins was 71, and he leaves us one remarkable performance after another. It's hard to know where to start - Roger Rabbit, The Long Good Friday, Brazil, Nixon - when you talk about his films.

To me, like Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Hoskins was similar to Gene Hackman in the sense that he was brilliant no matter how good or bad the film. His was the performance you looked forward to.

One that sadly not a lot of people saw was in a small film called Hollywoodland (originally called Truth, Justice and the American Way). It was about the suicide and alleged murder of George Reeves (Ben Affleck) who played Superman on the television series. Hoskins played Eddie Mannix, a studio executive whose wife (Diane Lane) had a years-long affair with Reeves. It is by turns a frightening, tender, poignant and powerful performance.

And never anything less than riveting.

I'm really going to miss Bob Hoskins. I wish there were some way I could thank him for the honor of watching him work, and the joy he's brought me over the years.

Maybe the best way is to keep watching his movies and enjoying them.

Apply words as needed

There's been a lot of discussion about the death of Phillip Seymour Hoffman, and not all of it as sympathetic as you might expect.

There are people inflamed at how selfish it was to shoot heroin when you have kids. It's a point of view I understand, but it's an awfully unforgiving one usually put forth by people who have no concept about the grip heroin can have on a life.

Until the beginning of last year, Hoffman had been clean and sober for over 20 years. When he fell off the wagon, he sought help by enrolling himself in rehab last May.

Sadly, as we all know, it didn't stick.

But beyond a brilliant body of work, he also left us these words, that can be applied to virtually any job.

It's a simple message: do the best you can at every opportunity you're given. You're not better than the work. And if you want to be noticed and remembered, then give them something to notice and remember.

Phillip Seymour Hoffman did that every time at bat.

Despite his sad and most certainly tragic death, he left us words to live by.

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.

Pretty woman. OK handwriting.

Here's how it happened.

There was a point in time, when I was younger and she was younger, that I had a little crush on Julia Roberts. This of course was during the Mystic Pizza, Pretty Woman, Steel Magnolias and Sleeping With The Enemy era. It was kind of rekindled during the Notting Hill days, but one too many close-ups and articles about her bitching out her Malibu neighbors and I was done.

Anyway, during the early days, my friend, best man and a fine actor in his own right Scott Thomson was working on The Player with her. He found himself at the craft services table, and, knowing how much I liked her at the time, said "I know this is very uncool. But a friend of mine's a big fan of yours and he's home with the flu. I was wondering if there's any way you could give him an autograph?"

I felt fine.

To almost everyone's surprise, she did - the one you see here. The Player was twenty-one years ago, and I didn't even know I still had this. I just found it cleaning out a drawer.

But it does make me smile, and reminds me of a time when a movie star caught my attention and kept it onscreen and off. Color me old-fashioned, but I'm just a little starstruck and romantic that way.

I wonder what I can get for it on eBay.

Good vs. Evil

It’s not so much a movie as a direct assault on the nervous system. The first time I ever saw The Exorcist was at the late, great National Theater in Westwood. It was also the last time. Well, the last time I saw it in its entirety.

I can say without hesitation I’ve never been so terrified at a movie, any movie, before or since. There was more than one time I had to close my eyes because I didn't want any one of a number of horrifying images burned into my memory.

So when I saw The Exorcist on my cable channel listings, I thought maybe it’s time to get past my fear and see if I could get through it start to finish a second time, although I use the term “start-to-finish” in the loosest sense of the words.

I knew I had to lay down a few ground rules for myself. First, as I implied a second ago, I wasn’t going to watch it literally start to finish. I’d take breaks, maybe watch a little bit every morning before I went to work – which is what I wound up doing. And that brings me to my second point: I wasn’t going to watch it at night.

It’s not that I’m afraid of things that go bump in the night. I’m afraid of things that levitate, vomit pea soup, spin their heads around and sound like Mercedes McCambridge in the night. No, this was going to be a daytime viewing so I’d have plenty of hours to make sure it wasn’t top of mind just as I was drifting off to dreamland.

Or attempting to.

Now that I’ve seen it again and had a chance to think about it, it wasn’t nearly as scary as the first time. At least not in the same way. I can see now the effects, which while still great, were limited by the technology of the time. The head spinning doesn’t look quite as real as it did. The levitating looks like a magic trick. The blood, hers and others, looks a little too red to be real.

What is even better than I remember is the caliber of acting from the entire cast. The subtlety and nuance in each actor's performance is nothing short of remarkable. It would've been easy to drift into the expected horror film hamminess, but no one in the movie treats the material as anything other than real.

But what's as scary to me now as it was then is the idea of good versus evil. I’m a believer there's evil in the world, and there's a constant battle going on. Don't believe me? Pick up a newspaper (or an iPad).

The scene where Father Karras says to Father Merrin, “I believe there are three distinct personalities.” And Father Merrin replies, “There is only one.” rings true to me.

The tricks the devil uses in the movie to deceive - a combination of lies with just enough truth mixed in - seem eerily similar to what goes on in the world around us every day.

I think that's the power of the film, reminding us that the battle between good and evil is ongoing and real. And if we let our guard down for a second, the wrong side wins.

Which makes The Exorcist a film worth watching with your eyes open.

Remembering the best actor in the world

As I was intermittently paying attention to this year's Academy Awards (Billy, the Borscht Belt called - they want their jokes back), I did happen to catch the segment of the show they do each year honoring people in the business, mostly actors, who've passed away.

I call it the Cavalcade Of Dead Stars. The Academy calls it In Memoriam.

Watching the familiar names and faces go by, I was waiting for one actor's name in particular who died last year: Pete Postlethwaite. Come to find out since he passed away on January 2, 2011, he was actually honored in last year's on-air cavalcade.

Postlethwaite was one of my favorite actors of all time. Apparently I was in good company - Spielberg called him "the best actor in the world."

His craggy face and nose that'd been broken several times in bar brawls all but insured he was never going to compete with more classically good looking actors for lead roles.

But as he proved time after time, role after role, you don't have to be the lead to be unforgettable.

Most people remember him from his Oscar-winning performance along with Daniel Day Lewis In The Name Of The Father.

Hard to believe it was his only Oscar.

He lent an air of credibility and realism to popcorn fare like The Lost World. And he riveted my attention with his unshakable confidence mixed with just a hint of threat as conduit to Keyser Soze in The Usual Suspects.

My favorite performance though was one of his last - Irish mobster, and florist, Fergie Colm in the Ben Affleck directed film The Town. Menacing, fearless, understated and terrifying, the scene where he's pruning roses while he tells Affleck how he got his mother hooked on drugs before she killed herself is a master class in acting.

I'm glad the Academy didn't inadvertently leave him out of the cavalcade this year. It would've been almost as criminal as nominating him for just one Oscar after a lifetime of Oscar-worthy performances.