#hobo 6

[hobomagazine]

Hobo #6 | Philip Seymour Hoffman (1967-2014)

December 2005

Philip Seymour Hoffman, the world’s greatest actor. No votes were cast, no ballots collected, no polls were taken. Although officially announced by Jon Stewart on the Daily Show in early October, anyone who has been actively watching film or theatre performances in the last decade would likely concur with that bold proclamation. Regardless of the medium and the size and shape of the role, Hoffman’s performances are  plays onto themselves. One doesn’t need to have studied Stanislavski’s An Actors Handbook to perceive when an actor has become a master of his art. Put aside the Tony nominations for stage performances in Eugene O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night and Sam Shepard’s True West and just consider one third of his thirty-six screen performances. In order of appearance: Scotty in Boogie Nights, Brandt in The Big Lebowski, Rusty in Flawless, Phil in Magnolia, Freddie in The Talented Mr. Ripley, Joseph in State And Main, Lester in Almost Famous, Wilson in Love Liza, Dean in Punch Drunk Love, Jacob in 25th Hour, Dan in Owning Mahowney and Truman in Capote.

Philip Seymour Hoffman ingests each of these complex and varied characters with an authenticity and subtlety that sets him apart from his contemporaries. No one has maximized their screen time more than he has. No one has captured the essence of the American everyman of the early 21st century with more sincerity and conviction than he has. These men can be both lonely and funny, aggressive and vulnerable, hopeful and defeated, lost and found, often at the same time. He has captured the distinction between seeming and being and his characters stay with the audience long after the films have ended. It appears he doesn’t choose a role unless he feels the role has chosen him; that he can become the character rather than play it. He is operating with an intelligence and a level of commitment that both inspires the film’s world and the spectator’s world. We recognize ourselves in his honesty. We absorb Pushkin’s “sincerity of emotions”, the “feelings that seem true in given circumstances.” We are exposed to the art of the actor and the heart of the character every second he is on screen.

Philip Seymour Hoffman is not going to buy into the ‘world’s greatest actor’ and that’s what adds to his cachet. He has humility. He has talent. He has artistry. He has Capote.  He has momentum. We talked to Philip by phone from New York.

“The proof of a poet is that his country absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorbed it.” Walt Whitman, Leaves Of Grass

[Interview by Brian Hendricks / Photo by Jenny Gage & Tom Betterton]

8:22 AM. The phone rings to say that Philip is running late but will be calling within the next ten minutes. 8:36, the phone rings, the sound of furniture and then silence. Begin to hear someone breathing on the other end. A few deep breaths later…

Brian Hendricks. — Hello? Philip Seymour Hoffman. — Yes. Hello?

— Philip? — Brian?

Pleasantries are exchanged. Philip sounds a little tired but attentive. His meditative and relaxed tone is conducive to conversation. — So how is your schedule these days? — It’s been kind of crazy. Yeah, I was in D.C. yesterday, flying around doing stuff. But it’s all good.

— First I wanted to thank you for doing this. I know you’re busy. And thanks for this film. “Capote” is the kind of film that really makes us celebrate the medium. — Ahh! Thank you. I appreciate that.

— And as a producer you must be feeling pretty solid. — Pretty relieved (laughs).

— The thing that really distinguishes “Capote” as a film is its incredible restraint, keeping it so compressed. And I think its intelligence. — Yes. Yes. It’s focused, you know. It’s Bennett Miller’s doing. We all had a part in it but Bennett had a focus that was undeniable from the beginning to the end. You know, there was never a question with Bennett about what the film was about or how to tell it. And that helps a lot.

— The British director, Michael Powell, referred to a film he made back in 1951, “Tales of Hoffman.” (Philip chuckles) He referred to it as totally composed film. This would be where the casting, direction, writing, cinematography, set design, etc., coalesce in way that can’t really be anticipated. — Right (laughs). I don’t think it can ever be anticipated. We don’t know when a film is going to call us. But I did have a feeling about it with the casting. I remember when we finally got everybody to play those roles. I remember having moments of feeling so grateful that we got who we got. That coalesced you know. But I don’t think we ever had the feeling it was going to.

— The filming is over but in some ways the process is just beginning in terms of getting the film out to the people who need to see it. When you took this on did you sort of know as a producer that you were going to be with this much longer than you have with films in the past? — I did. But like everything, I did, but I didn’t know what that would mean exactly. But I knew that I was going to have to and be willing to put myself out there in a way that I haven’t for a film before. It’s much easier when I’m proud of it. I’m proud of this film and that makes it easier. But it’s a different area. I’ve never done a film where I’ve had to cover so much ground afterwards. I’ve talked to some pretty well known actors, highly respected actors that talk about that. You think your job is just making the film and then you realize what happens when it comes out (laughs). The reactions from them have been kind of interesting, how they feel about it.

— A Capote quote that says a lot about him, “Finishing a book is just like you took a child out to the backyard and shot it.” — Yeah. I read that. I think that has to do with grieving something. It’s so strong, so visceral, so violent an expression. You put your heart and soul into something over a long period of time and then it’s done and people are witnessing it and having their own personal reactions. There’s something sad that happens. You don’t really talk about it so much because people are going to think you’re crazy, or sentimental, or soft or something. But really there’s an act of having to kill it off for yourself. It really does become public domain in a way. It’s not yours anymore and that’s really sad. And I’ve had that feeling, you go to a film festival somewhere and it starts to screen and you’re in the back of the theatre after you’ve been introduced and the film starts to play and someone rushes in who’s late (laughs). And anxiety begins to set into you because this film is like your child and really people are just living their lives, and you realize like a child you’ve just got to let it go somehow. It’s a very weird experience.

— And I guess this one even more so because you’re used to having to withdraw and surrender roles but with “Capote” you’ve given birth to the film as well as the character. And is that withdrawal something… Well I don’t imagine it’s ever going to become easy. — It’s not an easy thing. It’s hard to let go of it. Hard to not want to keep watching over it, taking care of it and not let anyone hurt it (laughs). It sounds crazy but it’s true. But you do have to let it go. You do have to move on to the next thing. You have to find passion in some other place and you have to fall in love with something else. And that always takes falling out of love in some way with whatever it was before. I guess I’ll find that out, what that means.

— I would imagine with all your other interests, moving on to other roles would be the immediate solution to at least be able to take that part of you into something new. — That’s right. I was supposed to direct a reading of A Basic Training Of Pavel Hummel at the Public [Theatre] the other day. And I thought, God, I can’t do that. I’m just too busy, I haven’t even read it yet. And in the back of my mind what I was saying to myself was, “You have to do it.” This is exactly what you need to do. And I remember I did, I showed up and did the reading and I remember how grateful I was after I did it. Because it was a whole day where I was starting to let go and move forward. Find interest in another project. That’s what you need to do I think.

— Capote comparing a child to a book. He wasn’t a father, I know that you are. Does playing characters like Capote who was abandoned as a child inform your own role as a father? Help you stay grounded? — Yeah. Being a father is, well, when you’re with your child you’re with your child. And if you get distracted when you’re with your child, you’re very aware that you’re distracted and your child is there. What I experience now is there’s something about your love for a child that is so unconditional. An unconditional love you’ve never felt before. And it does put things in perspective as people have always said. There’s really nothing you feel comfortable putting before your child. And I think that is very helpful in anybody’s life but definitely in an artistic life. The chaotic kind of gypsy life that artists lead. To have a child that is just a constant love affair (pause). But with the quote, there is an analogy there. A piece of work that you produce because really what everyone is doing in coming to a film; all the actors, the DP, the editor and the director and everybody, is they’re bringing hopefully the best of themselves and all the baggage that comes with that. They’re bringing the most vulnerable, youthful, impressionable side of themselves. Everybody’s attachment to the film is quite like the love for a child I think.

— Absolutely. Yes. Your multi-faceted interests as an actor, producer and theatre director and teacher. Do you ever feel that something has to give or does one aspect of your creative life feed another and you’re able to just go with the flow? — To do different things? Yeah, well like I said about this reading the other day. When I was working with these actors for six hours and then we did the reading at the Public and I remember when we did the reading that night and it was a full house and David Rabe who wrote the play was there, people were there, and I wanted to sit in the back by myself and I did, and that’s a good thing. That’s a good experience for me. To not be the actor. To be not only the director who hopefully has helped some people along to do as good a job as they can. But then to watch it as an audience member and to go through that experience of watching other people succeed or struggle right in front of you. It’s a whole different part of me that I can experience and also learn about myself as an actor watching it through their eyes and that’s important to me in my life. I don’t think I’ll be able to go through my life without doing that also because it’s a reprieve from the acting part, but it’s also a learning experience. It also creates an extraordinary empathy for me towards other actors because I see my faults and mistakes in them. I see my success in them. I see everything and it allows me to become less cynical about it all. I don’t think I’ll be able to stop that. I definitely want to have both of those things.

— It seems like with your LAByrinthe Theatre, the analogy that comes to mind is like a workout gym where you can go and exercise your craft. There aren’t the commercial considerations and you can just go and do pure art. — Yes. It is. It really is. That’s right. We have commercial considerations due to a budget but you’re right. We have a workshop production going on right now that opened last night. We have a show, we rehearse it for two weeks and put it up, small budget situation, tickets are low priced, we do fifteen performances. We had the first one last night and good work is good work. It doesn’t matter if it’s a film that five billion people see or if it’s a stage that eighty people are sitting at. And that’s what I saw last night. I saw some moments of some really fine work. And there’s no difference in this and some film that billions of people are seeing. It’s just the act of witnessing it and the pride that I have watching other actors and the director, to be able to discuss it afterwards, the ideas. You’re absolutely right, there’s a reprieve from the business paranoia, anxiety, and you are just there with the work that you do. Hugging, taking pride in sharing your appreciation with other artists and actors. And that’s a very satisfying thing. And John Ortiz who runs the company with me, he’s a founding member of the company, and we both feel that way about it.

— I like what David Mamet said about the theatre is always dying and being reborn. That sense that the theatre is often out of the spotlight but that’s where all the new life is coming from. — Yes! You’re, he’s, absolutely right. All theatre thrives on the death and rebirth. Every night the show ends there’s a small death and some times you have a performance that’s not so good. And you feel like you’re failing and you’re humbled, but then you have the next night to rejuvenate it again, to repair those mistakes. There’s something very forgiving about the theatre as brutal as it can be. It’s a very forgiving place because there’s always an opportunity and that’s what it offers for sure.

— A Capote quote that I’m sure you are familiar with. “To me the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it’s about but the inner music that words make.”  Is what it’s about, the story and the plot, much more significant than just the feeling you get from the words? — That’s very interesting what he says there. I get jazzed about what it’s about. I get jazzed about what something’s about early on. Something I really get off on is thinking about what it means and how does it reverberate through our culture and stuff. But there is a point as an actor where you can’t really act that stuff. What he’s saying is you can’t write about all of that in the sentence so you have to live it, write in the moment where all the little points come together and there is a difference. While you are making it there’s a pleasure and a struggle in creating the music. Creating the scene, the give and take, the energy in that, the pathos, whatever it is. If it’s done well, if you feel like you are succeeding, it’s incredibly satisfying and just the construction of it is satisfying. But I do think that in the beginning and the end I take a lot of pleasure in thinking about what the film is saying. All the questions it brings up. All the different meanings it could project on so many different people. I think that in the act of actually doing the acting work, it’s putting the parts together and making them function together as a whole that is very satisfying and it isn’t worrying about what it’s about.

— Great. With regard to leaving an imprint as a producer and the idea of film and theatre driving the dialogue or just providing entertainment. I’m assuming you would want to be more involved in dealing with issues that are important to the world and are helping to drive the dialogue? — Yeah. I think what I would say is that I get more jazz when I think of the dialogue of what it is I’m doing could create. It’s a more exciting feeling to think that this could cause some kind of discussion. But that said, I do know there is a place for something that is diverting my attention towards something that just makes me laugh. Or something that just makes me cry. There is a place for those things. They are also incredibly important. We were doing the film festival junket, my girlfriend and I, we were in a hotel room somewhere and it was late and I turn on the TV and there’s a comedian on. And he was riffing on the subject of women versus men and he was hysterical. (laughs) He was so funny. And there was this fifteen minutes where I was just laughing. The things he was coming up with were just hysterical. I do in those moments think there is a place for this. That guy, he’s creating a dialogue. There is this fifteen minutes where I’m not thinking about me. I’m not thinking about all these other things. I’m taking pleasure in the insights someone has on the human condition. I definitely think, there are things I want to do, places I want to provide where people can just go and relax and hopefully have a good time. But I’m less inclined to do those things, that’s for sure, but I do respect them if they’re done well.

— They do say we’re learning the most when we’re laughing because we are often recognizing some kind of truth. — Absolutely. And I think we’re also bombarded with that stuff. Most of it isn’t good. Most of it doesn’t make you laugh. Most of it doesn’t create any kind of relief or a real distraction of any kind. It usually disappoints. That’s why I have even more respect for those that actually do create that kind of thing and do it well. Because it’s so rare for someone to do that kind really well. Just taking joy in somebody actually creating something that’s kind of inspired and funny.

— It’s so interesting as well, the whole history of comedy and comedians. They are generally, in their own personal lives, often so depressed. — Absolutely.

— Another Capote quote, “When God hands you a gift he also hands you a whip and the whip is intended for self-flagellation solely.” I’ve read that you’re very self critical and reasonably hard on yourself. I suppose it’s a given that the artist has to suffer to some degree to get anywhere? — Capote couldn’t be more right about that. I think anyone who is lucky enough to come into tune with what the thing is they can do well will also begin to venture down the path of self -criticism. And I think that’s what he’s saying. And I don’t think that’s just the artist. That can be anyone who realizes, you know, I’m a damn good trial attorney. That’s where I’m supposed to be and if I deny that I’ll be denying something bigger than me. And so they don’t and they accept and they take it on and the minute that happens they know they will only accept the best of themselves in that profession. And yes, you can beat yourself up in that area for sure.

— Along the same lines, Truman said, “Failure is the condiment that gives success its flavour.” You are celebrated as a risk taker with the variety of roles you’ve played. Does it get harder to keep your edge and take risks as you become more established? More successful? And does it become more difficult as you get older to find the characters that will allow you to express different parts of yourself? — It’s a tough question. I don’t quite know where I will land through this time now. I am definitely in a place where I don’t know what to do. And I try to trust that when I feel that way. It’s interesting because there are some things that will start tugging me in one direction, and something else will start tugging me in another. And what role should I play? And what thing should I do? I’m a little bit in doubt about that. The one thing I’m not is I know there are certain things I don’t want to do. And I’m taking solace in that thought. I can’t name what they are but I’ll know it when I see those things. That’s where I’m at. But you’re right. We are getting older and things change. Your interests change and there’s things you’ve explored before that you would like to leave alone now. And that’s how I feel. There are things I’ve explored before and I would like to leave them alone. There are certain things I know I haven’t explored and I don’t know how those things will manifest themselves in what character, in what story yet. That’s kind of open ended.

— The adventure continues. — Yes.

— The editorial for this issue of “Hobo” is titled “The Road We’re On” and we’re sort of proposing the idea that despite the obvious chaos and cataclysm around us is that there’s a whole other spirit out there. That we’re actually moving forward. As an artist and as a father, thinking of the future for your son, how do you feel about that? From your vantage point, how does the world look? — Oh, well, a bit scary. From the vantage point of having a son. I think that if I didn’t have son I might not be as concerned. I would be concerned for my fellow man and my country and like you said, all the things that have been happening to this country, just natural disaster wise, war across the world and just everything that’s going on all over the place. I’m very concerned about that (pause). But when you have a child there’s almost a panic, like what is it going to be like when he’s forty? It seems so far away and will you be there and will he be gratified that you brought him here?

— I know. I know. — (Laughs) You know? It’s a lot to take on and it’s something to definitely get over (laughs). You do think about that. And right now? I’m glad that editorial is optimistic.

— It almost has to be. — There’s almost no other choice, you can’t just bepessimistic, I guess you’re right. It has to be optimistic. And I would say, I do think from my vantage point, people say there is no good theatre anymore. There’s no good movies being made. Just in the business we’re talking about, I still see great films being made. I still see great plays. I still see wonderful theatre. I still see great actors doing great work. People who are in my generation and people who are younger than me, I still see people doing it. I don’t see it dying. It’s being revived all the time. The one thing that is positive to me: in the last five years I’ve never heard politics and the state of the world talked about more than in the last five years amongst people in this country. I remember being in college and high school, my twenties, people didn’t really talk about that stuff. We lived in a day with Clinton where people just weren’t so worried about what was going on. And I do think that is a very positive thing. People are much more in tune, and care much more, and are more immediate about what they want to know and what they want changed. What they want to ask of the world they live in. I know it wasn’t like that ten years ago.

— Right. That is promising. As “Capote’s” momentum builds and I know it’s just beginning and is going to really take off. Has the response caught you by surprise a little bit and are you enjoying the ride so far? — It might sound like false humility but when we were making the film we were really struggling. We didn’t know if it was going to work out. And I think it made us work harder and harder every day we showed up at the set. I think there were glimmers of hope when we thought we might be on to something. We still didn’t know what that would mean. It was when we were watching a rough assembly after we had done some re-shoots and I was sitting with Bennett and Tellefsen and I remember looking at Bennett and smiling and saying we might be on to something here. And more with, ‘you’ might be on to something here because it’s really more in his hands. But still even with that we were just making a film that wouldn’t embarrass us (laughs). The fact that it might not beembarrassing was still just a relief. But I think when it was all done, when they eventually got it to its final stage and we heard the music to it, I thought, I like the film, and we’ll have to send it out there and see what happens. But as to what the reaction is as of today? As of now? Beyond, way beyond anything we expected to happen when we started to try to get people to give us money to try and make it. Way, way, way beyond. And I have to remember that, we all have to try and remember that, just to stay grateful rather than turn into Capote (laughs). I can only imagine how Truman would be dealing with this (more laughter).

— Well this is just it. I love his line about life being a moderately good play with a badly written third act. (Philip laughs) This is likely a stupid question but the idea of something called The Third Act, the story of Truman Capote from 1965 to 1984. “Capote 2” is probably not in the radar, but is that something as an actor and as a producer that might be of interest to you? — To do that part?

— Yes. — I wouldn’t. I mean I would be interested in seeing someone else do it.

— Okay. That’s interesting. — I actually would. I think it would be fascinating if ten years from now that some actor and some director and some writer, were to take Capote from the Black and White Ball to Joanne Carson’s house in Los Angeles in 1984.

— Yes. Exactly. — There’s something about that that could be quite fascinating. But it’s difficult and I think that’s why Danny (Dan Futterman, screenwriter) focused on this section because his life, if you read the biography, what ever comes before so informs what comes after. Like anybody’s story but his really needs it. You really need to know. With his writing In Cold Blood, you really do get the full scope of his kind of existence and who he is, in a way that the other sections might be much more difficult. The other sections are less about him as a literary figure and more about him as a public figure. Especially the third chapter, the third act, and that’s always trickier terrain because you’re not focusing in on one plot point that’s going to focus all these different elements. But I would like to see someone try to tackle that idea because what he turned into is, I don’t know how you say this but he’s like the poster child for what could go wrong (laughs). In celebrity, in the capitalistic society we live in (laughs). He becomes the poster child. And if someone did that right it could be quite potent.

— And it’s a familiar tale, the fall of the writer, the creative personality. The history of literature has almost been… the books have long outlived, been more successful than the third act of the people that wrote them. —Yes. Yes. If you read the biography you couldn’t find a better ending for the film. Joanne Carson tells us that when he died, the night he died, he said… I remember reading it and it crushed me, what she said was true, he was dying and he said the name of Babe, you know, Babe Paley, who he hadn’t seen, who he had been separated from for years at this juncture and then his mother. (Pause and slight laughter) You know, this fifty-nine year old man dying alone in Los Angeles and he’s calling for his mother! You know what I mean?

— Honestly. Yeah. — He’s calling for his mother and he’s calling for the only other woman who he probably saw as his mother. And his real mother killed herself and the other woman basically told him to go fuck himself (laughter). It can’t get any worse. If someone could lead up to that in some kind of respectful way and end with that kind of pathos. That could be a really cathartic thing.

— While researching my review of the film I found an old 68 Playboy with the Truman Capote interview. He’s talking about Hickock and Smith being the best friends he ever had. That’s pretty lonely. — A very lonely person, extraordinary lonely. There’sprobably lots of people who thought they were one of his great friends and they actually weren’t. That I think is a perfect example of a lonely person. And I don’t think he was bullshitting when he said that. That’s what makes it such a great tale are Hickock and especially Smith. We focus more on Smith, but like those relationships, because of the dynamics and what they needed from each other caused an intimacy on a level that I don’t think he was even comfortable with.

— Such an amazing cautionary tale isn’t it? — Yes.

— On another note, I read somewhere that you were comparing acting to golfing. (Much laughter from Philip) I’m a golfer myself, a 12 handicap, I try to play once or twice a week. — Oh that’s great.

— The idea that some days you have it all figured out and other days you’re back to square one again. — Yeah, you’re just slicing it all over the place. It’s so true. Oh God, it’s maddening.

— Do you get a chance to play? — I do, I did play. I played when I was a kid. We played at this nine hole public course, at the time we thought it was the best golf course in the world but it was just the crappiest…

— (Phone cuts out) Hello? — I’m still here. I think someone just beeped me. But I do relate it to that. People think well don’t you just get up there and act, do your thing. Unless you want to see me make an ass of myself, I guess I could go up there and… it is, it’s kind of like golf.

— It’s humbling. — Yes it’s humbling.

— Just a couple of more things Philip. Winnipeg, Manitoba. “Capote” was shot there. How did Canada treat you? — Canada was great. We knew that Kansas, 1959, would not be found in Kansas in 2005, 2004. So they went up there, and they looked up there and they showed me the photos that they took and it was uncanny. It was really uncanny, the resemblance, how they paired up together. So it treated us very well, visually, it was just perfect. But it was one cold place. It really is the coldest place I’ve ever been to.

— (Laughter) Absolutely. Another aspect of this film that I loved, the cinematography, the visual snapshots that create that “out there” space of Kansas so efficiently and quickly. And the muted colours, the browns and greys, the whole palette. The film is just really beautiful to look at. — Yes. Adam did a great job. Adam Kimmel.

— Yes. Well, I think I’ve explored most of my questions here. I really appreciate you taking the time for this Philip and thanks again for creating one of the best films I’ve seen in the last couple of years. — Oh thank you. Thank you very much Brian.

— Alright. Thanks again Philip. — Bye bye.