Paul Newman: 1925-2008

Before I start, just know that I kind of hate the idea of eulogizing on blogs. Everyone else already does it, and better than I, so I try to avoid it if I can. It seems trite of me to even attempt. And yet here I am because this one has genuinely saddened me.


I've never been particularly concerned with elderly celebrity deaths; as long as the geezers made it past 70 or 80, the loss didn't seem so tragic. They had their time - about as much as most - and most of them had stopped working prolifically at that point anyways. Sure, I'll have a twinge of regret if I liked them, but nothing hangs over my head like a storm cloud. I save that kind of grieving for the ones who died young. I had the black pall up for over a week when Heath Ledger died; I hate losing talented actors when they're just coming into their own, just beginning to show us what they can do. It's really unfair.

But Paul Newman is different. I wouldn't say he was my favorite actor, but he had my attention. When news broke that he was privately battling cancer, my gut knotted. I don't know why it should be that way; he had all but retired from acting 5 years ago. There weren't going to be any other projects. But Newman had a certain quality that endeared him to me. I don't know what it was. I'll leave that to the real writers and film historians to articulate. God, he was fun to watch. In his roles he was sharp, strong, bitter, funny, laconic, weak, knowing, sly, brash, sexy, broken and he always had a twinkle in those impossibly blue eyes. The thought that he's gone makes me sad.

Perhaps it's because he seemed like a decent human being in life; he brought something to the world beyond his films. I won't pretend that my reasons for liking him really had anything to do with his philanthropy, but knowing that his food products line donated all of it's proceeds to charity seems pretty amazing. It also doesn't really matter that he was married to the same woman for over 50 years, but his marriage to Joanne Woodward it somewhat inspiring in this age of rampant celebrity (and non-celebrity) divorce. And maybe the fact that he had 5 daughters (his only son died in 1978) makes me sympathetic and feel like I know him better than I do because my dad had 4 daughters and lost his only son. None of this played a daily factor in my regard for Paul Newman, but it somehow makes his death seem more poignant for me.

The truth is, beyond my shallow appreciation for those eyes (oh, those eyes!) and his rather handsome figure in his youth, the only reasons I really loved him were Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, The Hustler, The Long Hot Summer, What a Way to Go!, Cool Hand Luke, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Sting, Mr. & Mrs. Bridge, Nobody's Fool, Road to Perdition, and Cars, to name a few of my favorites. But I figure those are pretty damn good reasons!