Phil Parma in “Magnolia” (1999)
Hoffman was the ultimate utility player, as Paul Thomas Anderson was fully aware: the five roles that the actor played for the filmmaker were wildly, wildly different from each other, and nothing sums that up better than his turn in “Magnolia.” Up to this point, Hoffman was known for playing creeps, dicks, snobs and losers, and yet among the deeply screwed-up cast of characters in “Magnolia,” he plays the sweet, selfless figure who comes to symbolize goodness and hope. Anderson cast him as Phil Parma, the hospice nurse who cares for Jason Robards’ dying TV producer Earl Partridge. Given his prior reputation, and the characters we meet elsewhere in the film, one could be forgiven for expecting some kind of deviancy or tricksiness from Phil, but there is none: he’s simply a man who wants to do good, and in this case one particular act of good, reuniting Earl with his estranged son, self-help guru Frank T.J. Mackey (Tom Cruise). He has minimal screen time, hardly interacts with anyone except his patient and his much younger wife (Julianne Moore), and isn’t really part of the tapestry created in the film as a whole. But Hoffman is able to paint such warmth, paired with such devastating loneliness, that it’s almost as shocking as Cruise giving a sexually explicit monologue, or anything else on screen. It was the first indication that despite his bear-like physicality, Hoffman was capable of doing pretty much anything.
Sandy Lyle “Along Came Polly” (2004)
So, yeah, Philip Seymour Hoffman could amaze us all in Paul Thomas Anderson movies, and Bennet Miller biopics and scorching Todd Solondzdramas, but those are astounding movies from astounding directors, and a very harsh and foolhardy detractor could point out that it’s not such a big deal to be great in a great film. To which we’d reply with BAM! “Along Came Polly” a completely formulaic, rote studio comedy from the hardly A-list John Hamburg in which Hoffman’s supporting turn is so funny as to make the film worth watching all by itself. Sandy Lyle, the endearingly idiotic, un-self-aware best friend of the main character Ruben (Ben Stiller) is a terrific comic creation, so much so that while initially the shambolic sidekick role might have seemed like a career step back for Hoffman, back to his “Twister” days almost, he dives into it so wholeheartedly and with such a liberating sense of fun that it makes a brilliant kind of sense. Just when Hoffman was establishing his credibility as a serious actor who could maybe carry a lead (this was just a couple of years before “Capote”) he also reminded us he could pratfall with the best of them. It’s an entirely forgettable film otherwise (something about the risk-averse risk-assessor Stiller trying to date a free-spirited Jennifer Anistonyada yada) but nearly every moment with Hoffman’s ex-teen idol character is a treat, whether he’s faceplanting on overpolished dance floors, dispensing terrible sex advice or playing enthusiastic and completely inept basketball. And amid all the heavy-duty dramatic roles that populate this list and for which Hoffman will be rightly long remembered, with Sandy Lyle in ‘Polly’ it’s uplifting just to see him having so much fun.
Truman Capote in “Capote” (2005)
We said earlier that Philip Seymour Hoffman could do anything. The proof (as if proof were needed)? The actor played, firmly against type, the diminutive, fey, wildly charming author Truman Capote, despite minimal physical resemblance (Toby Jones, who played the same role in the simultaneously-filmed “Infamous,” was a much more obvious choice). And he won an Oscar for it. “Capote,” the debut feature of Bennett Miller, is a remarkable film, so it’s a sign of Hoffman’s titanic performance that he overshadowed the film as a whole to the extent that he did. Focusing on Capote during the research and writing of his famous non-fiction work “In Cold Blood,” and his relationship with suspect Perry Smith, it’s a process that breaks the author. The wait for Smith’s conviction and execution, without which his book can’t be published, tears him apart, in part because of his friendship with the killer, and partly because it’s keeping his greatest work away from the public. And the way Hoffman captures this change, from outgoing belle-of-the-ball to alcoholic, self-loathing shell is one of his most remarkable feats. That he does it while playing one of the most immediately identifiable and distinctive authors in 20th century literature makes it doubly so. All too often, the biopic (though that’s a slightly reductive way to describe “Capote,” given its tight focus on this particular story, and aversion to cliche) sees actors working to the point of flop-sweat to impersonate their target, but Hoffman, who could hardly be mistaken for the real-life Truman, wasn’t concerned with that. Instead, he set out to capture Capote’s soul, his essence. And he succeeded.
Gust Avrakotos in “Charlie Wilson’s War” (2007)
“Charlie Wilson’s War” should have been something remarkable. It had an amazing and timely true story at its center, following the colorful U.S. Representative of the title (Tom Hanks) who teamed with a socialite (Julia Roberts) and a CIA agent (Hoffman) to help fund the Afghan resistance against the Soviet invasion, which in turn inadvertently and indirectly caused a ripple effect leading to 9/11. It had a script by the great Aaron Sorkin, it was directed by the even greater Mike Nichols, and featured a stellar supporting cast also including Amy Adams, Emily Blunt, Om Puri, John Slattery andDenis O’Hare. The end result, while watchable enough, couldn’t help but feel disappointing as a result: toothless and intent on charming you where it should have challenged you. But the film comes to life every time that Hoffman comes on screen. His disgruntled, asocial, foul-mouthed Gust Avrakotos is the best thing in the movie by a country mile. The actor’s given all the best material by Sorkin (most notably the killer, glass-smashing confrontation with Slattery’s CIA boss), and Hoffman relishes every syllable, with the sly humor that was sometimes overlooked in his repertoire. It’s maybe not the most textured performance in his canon (but picked up an Oscar-nomination nonetheless, in a year where the actor could also have picked up nods for “The Savages” and “Before The Devil Knows You’re Dead”), but it doesn’t need to be: it’s an essential burst of volcanic energy into a movie that’s all too lacking in it, and once more, a reminder that his presence was reason enough to buy a ticket for a movie.
