The British film industry lost a true national treasure today, and the entire film community lost a great talent. Bob Hoskins has died at the age of 71 following a bout of pneumonia. He had retired from acting back in 2012, a decision made as a result of him being diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease the previous year. He is survived by his wife Linda and their four children Alex, Sarah, Rosa and Jack, all of whom were by his bedside when he passed away. Hopefully, there is at least there can be some small comfort for them in that.
He had a great face for it, you know? I think it’s that what we’ll remember most about him, how good his face was. Sure, he had a solid physical stance (even though he wasn’t the tallest of leading men), but it was that face that kept you watching. Acting was something that seemed to be very natural in him, and that face easily exuding the intense rage, the deep sorrow, the warmth, the humour. He could go from a harsh anger and drift so smoothly into gentle quiet that you almost felt a smile creep across your face with him. His face carried everything, gave everything. It’s no wonder BT tapped him for their commercials.
Remember in Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, that moment when Eddie Valiant sits at his desk, looking through old photos of himself and Dolores, the smile a mile wide on his face as he flicks through them? Then he finds the ones of his deceased brother, and the smile fades, the eyes grow wide and misty… it’s so easy to see how much he misses him in that one moment.
Remember in Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, that moment when Eddie Valiant sits at his desk, looking through old photos of himself and Dolores, the smile a mile wide on his face as he flicks through them? Then he finds the ones of his deceased brother, and the smile fades, the eyes grow wide and misty… it’s so easy to see how much he misses him in that one moment.
Or in the first episode of the old BBC TV series Pennies From Heaven, when married salesman Arthur Parker drives down the road after very briefly meeting a woman in a shop? He drives along, a slight frown on his face as stares down the road, thinking on the shy woman from the shop, and then the wonderful Cheek to Cheek begins to play, and his face softens, becomes warmer, a smile lights his whole self as he fantasises about dancing with that woman, the two held in spotlight on a ballroom floor.
Or the ending of The Long Good Friday? That car journey that is given all of its impact by nothing more than constantly shifting emotional landscape on Harold Shand’s face. He’s shocked, he’s angry, he’s frightened, he’s resigned to his fate, he’s thinking of a way out, he even sees a strange humour in it all. It’s an incredible piece of acting for the camera that should have an entire class devoted to it. There’s no gear change visible, just a maelstrom of emotion from a man with a great face for it.
It’s Shand that will likely be his most defining role. Effectively the gold standard for the East End London gangster, Hoskins was able to channel a barely concealed ferocity into him, bared teeth and muted sneers. He was intimidating, but oddly friendly, which is how he got you. This kind of intimidation is evident throughout his career, from his Iago in Othello to Eddie Mannix in Hollywoodland. And for all of his status as an icon of British gangster cinema, his body of work reflects a far more eclectic sensibility than just the hard side of London.
Look at the likes of romantic comedy Mermaids, the rather dignified thriller Mona Lisa (which earned Hoskins an Academy Award nomination), the excellent Twenty Four Seven, the enthralling Felicia’s Journey, the bittersweet Last Orders, the emotional Hook… these are the films that Bob Hoskins left us with.
We may now be a little poorer for having lost him, but I assure you, we are all much richer for having him in the first place.
Or the ending of The Long Good Friday? That car journey that is given all of its impact by nothing more than constantly shifting emotional landscape on Harold Shand’s face. He’s shocked, he’s angry, he’s frightened, he’s resigned to his fate, he’s thinking of a way out, he even sees a strange humour in it all. It’s an incredible piece of acting for the camera that should have an entire class devoted to it. There’s no gear change visible, just a maelstrom of emotion from a man with a great face for it.
It’s Shand that will likely be his most defining role. Effectively the gold standard for the East End London gangster, Hoskins was able to channel a barely concealed ferocity into him, bared teeth and muted sneers. He was intimidating, but oddly friendly, which is how he got you. This kind of intimidation is evident throughout his career, from his Iago in Othello to Eddie Mannix in Hollywoodland. And for all of his status as an icon of British gangster cinema, his body of work reflects a far more eclectic sensibility than just the hard side of London.
Look at the likes of romantic comedy Mermaids, the rather dignified thriller Mona Lisa (which earned Hoskins an Academy Award nomination), the excellent Twenty Four Seven, the enthralling Felicia’s Journey, the bittersweet Last Orders, the emotional Hook… these are the films that Bob Hoskins left us with.
We may now be a little poorer for having lost him, but I assure you, we are all much richer for having him in the first place.
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