Think about this one. An overweight, ginger (not a problem for me, but you know the media), pallid, unshaven and neurotically uptight soon to be unemployed model plane geek, who incidentally takes to petrol fume inhalation addiction. His wife has shot herself.
How many actors would even DARE to touch that one - and not just that, make it work? And, unlike many of his peers and colleagues, I reckon he'd do it again, for almost no money despite his since, Oscar godliness.
I don't think it was ever made to be a big film, more a modest indie that also happened to have Kathy Bates on the cast list. That must have been a big draw for Hoffman, as well as for 'serious' movie-goers.
After reading through some reviews, I was almost dreading revisiting this strange brew of observational comedy, absolute angst and spectacular tragedy. That so much happened to one man lifts it beyond reality to an almost surrealist zone, as if we, the audience are also high on those fumes. I had seen it before, taking a chance on it due to its individuality and renting it; now I own the DVD. I haven't been aware of it having being on UK mainstream TV.
This second viewing was even more pleasurable, yes, pleasurable - not because I relish in one man's misery and potential downfall, but because of Hoffman's spot on portrayal. Despite being slightly ridiculous (as I said, at times, surreal) Hoffman never makes it so. You can believe this guy, you feel for him, yet he is out there on his own, in his isolated world, out of reach. Comedic touches are of the ironic kind, the clever sort that just seem to happen but work due to their limited use.