William Hurt

 

Photo by Steve Granitz - ©WireImage.com IMDB Image courtesy WireImage.com

After an endless stream of bad news from elsewhere, we learned of William Hurt's death Sunday night, a week short of his 72^nd birthday.

The loss of any actor strikes a sad, sentimental note, as the Oscars' In Memoriam segment reminds us each year. They are in the business of creating fantasy but they're so real to us. We feel like we know these people intimately, even though we don't know them at all. We've only seen their shadows, projected from afar on huge screens. 

For all their well documented glamorous excesses, their chosen profession also calls for lots of heavy lifting. They act out life, usually its most challenging and messy parts, for the rest of us.

In William Hurt's case, I did know him. Sort of. Once.

In 2007, he and Claire Danes were honored at the Maui Film Festival. It was my job to interview them for The Maui News. 

In those days the festival's opening reception took place at Wailea's gorgeous Fairmont Kea Lani resort. Under twilight skies striped with pastel clouds, food booths offered gourmet grazing while the open bar served up tropical libations. The honorees sat at a table off to one side behind a rope line. They could be seen, and admired, safely from afar.

Because I was working press, I got to cross the line. My assignment was to get a quote or two. I would lob in the slow pitch – usually along the lines of, “How does it feel to be here at the Maui Film Festival?” – and they would answer with, “It feels great.” Or, “What's not to like?” Presto! Page 1 news tomorrow morning.

An Oscar winner for “Kiss of the Spider Woman” among his four nominations, Hurt was known as an exacting artist, trained at Julliard. With his WASPish blond hair and patrician face, he seemed the sort not to suffer fools – much less, journalistic fools – gladly. But once we got past the Maui question, I pressed my luck. 

“Mr. Brooks” had just been released. It starred Kevin Costner as a seemingly solid and successful businessman, who happened to have a pretty horrendous dark side. Hurt played the dark side. He was a figment of Mr. Brooks' imagination, sitting in the backseat of his car like a snake whispering in his ear, urging him to give in to his worst impulses. It was a strange, unsettling role, and the film hadn't been well received by the critics. It was also a stretch for Maui Film Festival, which prided itself on celebrating “life-affirming storytelling.”

Looking over my shoulder to be sure no festival organizers were in earshot, I told William Hurt that I liked “Mr. Brooks.” A lot.

We were fast friends from that point on. 

Asked about the negative critical reaction, he explained that the director had lost control of the film about halfway through and it fell to him and Costner to essentially direct themselves from that point on. The two of them had previously worked together in Lawrence Kasdan's classic “The Big Chill,” although Costner's character had wound up on the cutting room floor.

When I asked about the difference between playing the good guy and the bad guy, Hurt said there was no such thing. There are good sides and bad sides to all of us, he went on.

(I'm reconstructing the 15-year-old conversation from memory. But you get the gist.)

By the time we finished the brief chat, I was elated. His quotes were terrific, but more than that, he seemed like a great guy.

Still, I was totally unprepared for what came next.

The next day the festival reserved blocks of time, usually around 15 minutes each, for me to talk to him and Claire Danes for lengthier interviews. In the newsroom before I headed out on the story, the editor approached my desk followed by a young high school student.

She'd like to shadow you for the day, he said. Things like that never happened on my beat. I never had interns, and I was usually desk bound anyway, editing that week's entertainment guide on my computer.

Looking at the girl's excited, uncertain attempt at a smile I informed her that this was her lucky day. She had just hit the jackpot.

Which was how the two of us wound up at another luxurious Wailea resort – the Four Seasons this time – in a private dining room.

I don't remember the girl's name, but it turned out she knew a whole lot more about Claire Danes than I did. Despite Danes' publicist's displeasure at a kid getting so much one-on-one time with her client, the girl's familiarity with “My So Called Life” and “Princess Mononoke” saved the interview. 

William Hurt came in next. He not only remembered our brief introduction the night before, but acted as though we were good buds. Really. Like sharers of the same wavelength.

Most of the interview is long forgotten, and not to be found on Google. But I recall a story he told from his boyhood. He had been born in Washington, D.C.: his mother worked for Time and his father was a diplomat so they traveled a lot. On his first visit to the Hawaiian Islands, he got separated from his family and somehow wound up in the care of a big local guy who took him out in a canoe and showed him other sides of island life tourists never see. The guy carried him on his shoulders, Hurt recalled. As he told the story, he became that kid again.

The session went on that way, less like an interview than old friends talking. It was supposed to last 15 minutes, but 45 minutes later we were still at it. His assistant finally pried him away, now late for all his other festival appearances. 

Following news of his death, the media has been awash with praise, much of it coming from his co-stars over the decades. He was always the consummate professional, they report, in a career that was still going strong at the end including the recurring role of Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross in the Marvel Universe. 

Whether playing the hero or villain, I always had the sense when he was on screen that he was one of the good guys.

I'll never know how close that guy I met at Maui Film Festival was to the real William Hurt. 

Either way, he sure was a great actor.