One of my favorite actors, Roy Scheider, has died at the age of 75.
If you had asked me, I would never have been able to guess Scheider's age. Even as a relatively young man, in such films as The French Connection and its unofficial follow-up, The Seven-Ups, he seemed middle-aged, a guy who'd been around the block more than once, who'd seen the worst and reluctantly accepted it. As he aged, his very presence brought a backstory, a sense of reality to projects that didn't really earn it, such as the entertainingly stupid action thriller Blue Thunder.
His best-known movie, of course, is Jaws, which absolutely depends on his regular-guy performance, a more likable variation on the cops and average joes he'd played up to that time. He was one of those rare actors who could convince in any type of part, from working-class heroes to upper-crust weasels. William Friedkin gave him a great part in Sorcerer, and he was memorable in underrated thrillers from two great directors, Jonathan Demme's The Last Embrace and Robert Benton's Still Of The Night.
His best work on film, unquestionably, came in Bob Fosse's astonishing, autobiographical All That Jazz, in which he doesn't so much play Fosse as become him. This is one of the most fully-realized performances I've ever seen; you simply believe Scheider is the likeable, wise-cracking monster he portrays, you believe he's a dancer though we never really see him dance, you believe he's a filmmaker, you believe he's a rogue and a sonofabitch and a genius. So utterly convincing is Scheider's performance, I always had to remind myself, every time I'd watch the film, that it's Fosse who's dead, not Scheider.
But now, damn...
