When I saw “Chicago,” Mister Cellophane was Mister Cellophane. Then John C. Reilly became John C. Reilly, and I resigned myself to enjoying his work less.
When I saw “Inglourious Basterds,” the Jew-Hunting Nazi was the Jew-Hunting Nazi. Then Christoph Waltz became Christoph Waltz, and I resigned myself to enjoying his work less.
When I saw “Crazy Stupid Love,” the precocious daughter with the dazzling sense of humor was the precocious daughter with the dazzling sense of humor. Then Emma Stone became Emma Stone, and I resigned myself to watching Revlon commercials.
Fame Is The Death Of Craft.
Your main goal, in any pursuit, should be disappearing into the craft, whether you’re a lawyer defending rights, an accountant tallying-up expenses or an actor occupying a role.
If we know you, it’s a failure.
Some are deadly addictions.
But for some reason, at this particular moment in time, we make drug addiction into something more deadly than it needs to be.
If you wanna drink, you go to a bar. Going out drinking is the behavior of an addict. Some handle a hangover better than others, but they’re nothing more than functional addicts, hooked on social lubricant.
If you wanna shoot guns, you go to a shooting range. Pointing a loaded weapon and pulling a trigger is the behavior of an addict. Some handle having a small penis better than others, but they’re nothing more than functional addicts, hooked on violence.
If you wanna govern, you run for elective office. Putting a flag pin on your lapel and holding press conferences to pretend you’re a perfect person without a kinky bone in your body is the behavior of an addict. Some handle never growing up better than others, but they’re nothing more than functional addicts, hooked on living their lives in an extended adolescence where again and again and again they’re voted “most likely to succeed.”
I liked not knowing Philip Seymour Hoffman. When I became aware he was a great actor, the spell was broken.
I don’t want to know what you do, or how you do what you do. There’s a saying I’ve heard floating around, “The Art Is In Concealing The Art.” I’ve said this saying to myself a million times. But I never understood it until just now.
Forget the spotlight. Forget the award shows. Forget the fame. Do the work. Love the work. Live your life. Love your life. Die when it’s your time to die.
And if you’re into shooting smack, shoot smack in a country where the drug laws allow you to be a functional drug addict instead of turning you into a liar, which, on the scale of addictions, is the deadliest.