Man. Ten years ago, today (and it seemed an intolerably premature death to me, at 43; now that I’m older than he was (51!), it really stings on so many levels.
He was, of course, born to become Tony Soprano, becoming an imperishable American icon in the process. But like other artists associated with a single role (or book or album, etc.), all the well-warranted praise for TS suffocates the other worthy work he did, and dude had considerable acting chops. Before The Sopranos he was perfect in smaller roles, inevitably as flawed and scary small-time crooks, as in True Romance (the scene where he tangles memorably with Patricia Arquette is more than a bit over the top (by design?), but his dead-eyed reminiscence about his first hits, as he toys with his lighter, is genuinely disturbing), and he makes an ideal foil as Bear in Get Shorty (“What, did you see that work in some movie you got beat up in?”).
It’s one of his final roles in a mostly forgettable movie —Killing Them Softly, which features another dearly and prematurely talented actor, Ray Liotta (more on him, here)— that seems, for me, to signify how special he was (and whether we would or could or should have gotten a lot more from him, he compresses a career’s worth of Mic Drops into this 10 minute tour de force). An alcoholic, washed up hood, exhausted by life and “The Life,” he doesn’t steal the movie in his short scenes so much as hijack it, drive it out to the swamps of Jersey, and bury it in the dirt. Somewhat difficult to watch considering the physical shape he’s in (for the role, and in real life), but indelible, time capsule shit, and distills what he excelled at: creating a character that you could despise, pity, fear, and love, all at the same time.
