Film Review: A Most Wanted Man (2014)

John le Carré's fiction is marked by a key contrast between his methodical plotting and the sweaty desperation of his characters. The spies that populate his novels are often middle-managers trying to achieve a small victory in a conflict in which they no longer believe, and who sacrifice their chance to be a whole person in the pursuit of a greater good. They live only half a life by agreeing to look through the windows of people living their own. One of the reasons that Martin Ritt's The Spy Who Came in from the Cold remains the definitive feature film adaptation of le Carré's work is that it manages to create an air of tragic inevitability, a sense that there are forces at work that will crush the characters no matter what they do, while also imbuing its characters with a faint yet potent belief that maybe they'll be the ones to escape a situation that has already claimed so many lives.

Why the Decision to Digitally Recreate Philip Seymour Hoffman for the Final Hunger Games Film is Understandable, But Still Unsettling

In addition to the many heartfelt tributes that have appeared in the wake of actor Philip Seymour Hoffman's untimely death, not to mention the frankly unsettling way in which the news media has picked over the circumstances surrounding his death, one of the more callous questions that has been asked over the last few days, admittedly by people who should probably look up the meaning of the word "tact," has been, "What about the Hunger Games sequels? Won't someone please think of the Hunger Games sequels!"

Shot/Reverse Shot: Episode 48 - Philip Seymour Hoffman

Like so many others, the news of Philip Seymour Hoffman's death yesterday at the age of 46 shocked both myself and Joe. As two people who first got into film in a serious way in the mid-'90s and early '00s, we had great admiration and respect for the work of Mr. Hoffman, and wanted to pay our own small tribute to a man who could legitimately be described as one of the best actors of his generation.



In addition, I'd like to offer a few words of my own on one of my favourite performers.

The films he appeared in were not guaranteed to be good - though he had an exceptionally high batting average on that front - but you could safely bet that whatever percentage of time Philip Seymour Hoffman spent on screen would be more than worth your time. Whether he was a lead or co-lead in films like Synecdoche, New York, The Savages, Capote and The Master, or in his many supporting roles in likes of The Big Lebowski, Moneyball, The Talented Mr. Ripley, Happiness, or any of his collaborations with Paul Thomas Anderson, he always brought humanity to everything he did, even when playing characters who were callous, vile or disturbing figures.

He so thoroughly embodied the essence of each character he played that it's entirely possible to forget how many films he was in. Not because the performances were unmemorable, but because you forgot that you were watching an actor, and instead felt that you were watching an actual person. I certainly found myself saying "Oh, yes, he was in that" multiple times when looking over his filmography, and it's a real testament to his ability to disappear into his roles that so many of them, however small, seem like they were played by someone else. He could shake off that big, bear-like demeanour and make you believe in the fantasy of performance better than almost anyone else.

The commitment he showed to every role he played gave him a genuinely chameleonic quality: he played both the creepy, lovelorn Scotty J. in Boogie Nights and the wryly suspicious and quietly menacing Freddie Miles in The Talented Mr. Ripley, but his attitude in both is so radically different that it's hard to believe it's the same man. He seemed to have no vanity or ego, and would find the heart of even the creepiest character, making them achingly human at even their darkest moments. He also seemed to have tremendous integrity, choosing to keep doing the small, interesting work he excelled in even after winning an Oscar for Capote and playing the best villain in the Mission: Impossible series, both of which could easily have allowed him to coast for years. Instead, he kept doing great work, which is the mark of a true craftsman.

Philip Seymour Hoffman was a rare talent; a soulful, insightful actor who took everything he did seriously, but was never leaden or dour. His performances felt alive and lived-in, and it's dreadful to realise that he won't be making bad films watchable, good films great, and great films classics for many more years.

Film Review: The Master (2012)

The Master, Paul Thomas Anderson's sixth feature and his first in five years, is not about Scientology. This needs to be stated early, and indeed cannot be overstated, since the connection between the two has now become so strong that anyone expecting a scabrous disemboweling of that organisation, albeit through a fictional lens, will be left wanting. Though The Cause, the cult established around the teachings and writings of Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman) is clearly inspired by the Church, and Dodd himself is modelled on L. Ron Hubbard, it is not the focus of the film. The Master is about Scientology in much the same way that Boogie Nights was about the life of John Holmes: both use real-life analogues to explore a specific era and milieu, as well as the themes that arise as a result.