Philip Seymour Hoffman: The Lovable Loser No More Philip Seymour Hoffman: The Lovable Loser No More

Why Are They Famous?
Philip Seymour Hoffman: The Lovable Loser No More
By Trevor Thompson
Oct 5, 2005

Every time I buy a slice of pizza and start to dab the excess grease with a handful of napkins, I think of Philip Seymour Hoffman.

I guess it's not Hoffman himself, but the character he plays in the movie Along Came Polly, when he dumps the excess grease from Ben Stiller's pizza slice onto his own. For me, though, there isn't much difference between his characters and how I picture Hoffman in real life. I picture him sloppy. I picture him overweight. Like most of his characters, he remains in my mind pathetic, mumbling, grumbling, mean, and probably bisexual. He's a loser.

And I'm not the only person who pictures Hoffman this way. In the interview with him in the latest issue of GQ, the article begins, "You expect Philip Seymour Hoffman to look a little rumpled in real life, a little slouchy and couch-creased . . . you expect him to be freckled and pale and to speak in a tremulous rumble — check and check."

See, everybody thinks he's a little bit like the characters he plays. That doesn't stop everybody from loving him, of course. Somehow, despite his distasteful appearance and mannerisms, he manages to be both appealing and compelling. How is that? Why, in an industry that seems to value good looks above talent, is he considered by many to be the finest working actor in Hollywood, and why, when seeing his name on a movie poster, do I get a little thrill and mark it down as a must-see movie?

The mystery is answered in Capote, in which he plays the famous author of Breakfast at Tiffany's and In Cold Blood. Once again, Hoffman plays a rather unappealing character — though this time in a different guise than we are used to. In many ways, Truman Capote is his most repulsive character to date, yet Hoffman manages to imbue him with enough sensitivity and humanity we feel sympathy and — in rare moments — admiration for Capote at the same time we despise him.

This is the key to Hoffman's appeal: his ability to convey such complex and at times paradoxical emotions through his characters. People grow tired of seeing big-name actors like Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise. Their characters are as familiar as the movies themselves, and as such are rather dull. Even veteran greats like Al Pacino and Jack Nicholson have grown predictable. What interests people in all walks of life and forms of art is not predictability, but the exact opposite. We go to movies and hope for the unexpected. We are attracted to stories with unimaginable plot twists, to characters who react to situations in different ways than we would predict.

Hoffman brings the element of surprise to the table in almost all of his roles. Sometimes he surprises us with his grossness, like in Along Came Polly. Sometimes he surprises us by appearing in roles in movies we'd never expect him to be in, like Patch Adams or Red Dragon or Empire Falls. Other times his characters are so different and disturbing, as in the cum-throwing obscene phone caller in Happiness, or the gas-huffing tragic husband in Love Liza, that we can't help but absorb every minute of his time on screen.

Hoffman surprises yet again in Capote. Despite the variety of characters he has played previously, there was always an underlying "Hoffman" permeating his performances — the sloppy, loser-like character I described above. This isn't the case in Capote. It's apparent we're in for a different Hoffman than we're used to from the moment he opens his mouth and we hear the nasally, whiney (what one critic described as "Adam Sandler-like") voice issuing forth. What a change from his usual low-pitched grumble! And instead of lumbering about as he does in Boogie Nights or Along Came Polly, with his belly hanging over his pants, he is trim and dapper, with expensive suits and carefully combed hair.

In the vast majority of the 37 films in which he's acted, Hoffman has played bit parts. We are used to seeing him only briefly —- often as the only memorable moment in the movie —- but we are not conditioned to be exposed to him for a full two hours. The effect is overwhelming. Hoffman is so good and so believable as Capote, it is impossible to tear your eyes away from the screen.

Not knowing much about the real Truman Capote, I can only guess at how accurate Hoffman's portrayal is, but from all the reviews I've read, it is spot-on. It certainly was believable to me. The complexity of the character, the combination of charm and vileness, of talent and vanity, of sensitivity and cruelty, is fascinating.

Capote is so good because it illustrates what makes a movie enjoyable: It offers us the unexpected. In the story, we are exposed to a gruesome and fascinating tale of murder — but the story isn't so much about the murder as about the obsession Capote has with the murders. In the main character we see a celebrated novelist of renowned wit and charm —- but he is also someone so narcissistic and cruel, he is downright repulsive. And in Hoffman's performance, we see the great acting we are used to, but in a role both physically and emotionally different from the usual character roles we associate him with.

In an interview with Hoffman, he is asked if he ever tires of the focus given to his appearance. Hoffman responds to the question with a shrug and says, sure, he may be a bit overweight, but in his opinion he's actually "not an unattractive guy."

If I had read that before seeing Capote, I would have snorted in disbelief. C'mon, he's the guy who pours grease on his pizza and "sharted" himself, right? But Hoffman has shown an entirely different aspect of himself in his latest movie, completely transforming his image in my mind, so much so that I have a hard time identifying with his description in the GQ article. Instead of "slouch and couch-creased" and speaking in a "tremulous rumble," I would expect him to arrive in a three-piece suit and speak like Adam Sandler.

Of course, this picture is no more of an accurate reflection of the real Philip Seymour Hoffman than the previous one, but it does show us how capable Hoffman is of destroying our expectations. Until Capote, I had pigeon-holed him as a character actor who specialized in repugnant losers. Now, I hardly know what to expect.

Perhaps an Oscar.