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Most actors spend entire careers working toward one iconic moment, honing their onscreen personalities for years until cementing themselves in the cinematic pantheon with their defining roles.
Alan Rickman wasn't most actors. The British master—whose death last month was overshadowed by the outpouring of tributes for fellow Brit David Bowie—took about 30 seconds of screen time to make a lasting impression on generations of moviegoers.
Still arguably the best action film of all time, 1988's Die Hard (screening Thursday at Hollywood Theatre) marked Rickman's big-screen debut. And holy shit, what a debut.
From the moment Hans Gruber emerges from the elevator at Nakatomi Plaza, it's clear that we're dealing with a villain unlike anyone who came before him. He's slick. He's sophisticated. He has great taste in suits, a strangely unplaceable accent, and the look of a goateed lizard ready to strike. He's ruthless in his businesslike pursuit of wealth, basically Gordon Gecko with a German accent and an itchy trigger finger. Ho ho ho.
On paper, Gruber is little more than a slightly elevated action villain. But in the body of Rickman, he's one of the most fascinating villains of all time, a Eurotrash ball of tics that grow more and more erratic as Bruce Willis' fly in the ointment continues to foil his well-laid plans. Just watch Rickman's labored exasperation every time one of his cronies is dispatched. The bloodshed seems like just an increasingly bothersome inconvenience to this charismatic, eye-rolling embodiment of disconnected greed—right up until he plummets to the pavement. "Shoot…the…glass," he impatiently implores a surviving henchman in a room full of corpses, as if somebody had brought him the wrong coffee.
Rickman's character seems as well lived-in as his suits seem tailored, and every line he casually snarls sticks with the ferocity of broken glass in John McClane's feet.
Rickman's explosive debut lingered large over the rest of his career, but how could it not? There are shades of Gruber everywhere, from the cold malice of Severus Snape to the over-the-top psychosis of the Sheriff of Nottingham. He could certainly play nice, but even at his warmest, the specter of Gruber made it difficult for anybody who has spent time in Nakatomi to fully trust Rickman, something he played to beautifully while layering his roles with nuance.
Rickman spent his career elevating so-so movies—like Dogma, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves and Love Actually—just by virtue of his presence. But it was in his debut film that he managed to make something already potentially great into the perfect popcorn flick.
All it took was a well-honed sneer, a well-hemmed suit and an actor so hungry for a big break that he managed to be the most compelling thing in a movie that includes a dude rappelling down an exploding skyscraper with a firehose.
Yippie-ki-yay, Mr. Rickman. Thanks for making our Christmases brighter and bloodier, and raising the bar for action villains eternally.
SEE IT: Die Hard screens at the Hollywood Theatre. 9:40 pm Thursday, Feb. 4.
Also Showing:
Weird Wednesday sinks its fangs into the gigantic block of cheese that is 1972's Fury of the Wolfman, a Spanish debacle in which b-movie legend Paul Naschy dons the fakest werewolf costume imaginable in his signature role. Basically, he's the Lon Chaney of Spanish werewolf films. Except, you know, a horrible actor. Joy Cinema. 9:30 pm Wednesday, Feb. 3.
Jim Henson's David Bowie-starring, delightfully lucid Labyrinth continues its run at the Mission. Mission Theater. Through Sunday, Feb. 7.
In other tributes to British entertainers who succumbed to cancer at age 69, the Hollywood is rolling out a digital restoration of the David Bowie vampire classic The Hunger. Hollywood Theatre. 7:30 pm Thursday, Feb. 4.
With this year's controversially whitewashed Oscars, it's refreshing to think back to 1998, when the release of Spike Lee's fantastic, Denzel Washington-starring He Got Game garnered nominations for… oh, wait, no. It was all white people back then too. 5th Avenue Cinema. 7 & 9:30 pm Friday-Saturday, 3 pm Sunday, Feb. 5-7.
In a post-Wes Anderson world, it's easy to forget that Harold & Maude was an eccentric breath of fresh air upon its release in 1971, and remains as compelling a tale of weirdos finding solace in one another as ever. Academy Theater. Friday-Thursday, Feb. 5-11.
In 2005, Chinese director Zhang Yimou took a break from making gorgeously rendered, high-flying martial-arts epics like Hero to make a gorgeously rendered, high-concept family drama called Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles. It's the emotional equivalent of Jet Li kicking you in the throat. 5th Avenue Cinema. 7:30 pm Friday, Feb. 5.
Perhaps the greatest concert film of all time (depending on your feelings about giant suits), Jonathan Demme's Stop Making Sense captures the Talking Heads at their funky, explosive, weird best, with a concert staged like some sort of deranged art project that serves as cinematic candy for the senses. Laurelhurst Theater. Friday-Thursday, Feb. 5-11.
Combining 1920s jazz, ancient legend and colorful animation, 2008's Sita Sings the Blues transforms the classic story of Ramayana into a spectacle of both modern and traditional wonder. Clinton Street Theater. 7 pm Friday & Monday, Feb. 5 & 8.
KBOO hosts Chauncy Peltier for a screening of Warrior, a documentary about the incarceration of his father, Native American activist Leonard Peltier, who was convicted of murder in a shootout with FBI agents at the Pine Ridge Reservation. The screening includes a Q&A with the younger Peltier and a call to action to free the elder, whose conviction was debated long before Steven Avery became a household name. Clinton Street Theater. 7 pm Saturday, Feb. 6.
2012's Persistence of Vision offers a frustrating look at legendary animator Richard Williams' struggle to get his passion project, The Thief and the Cobbler, in front of audiences back in 1992, a year when the remarkably similar Aladdin doomed the film to obscurity. 5th Avenue Cinema. 7:30 pm Saturday, Feb. 6.
The Clinton busts out the beads for its annual Fat Tuesday celebration, featuring Louisiana-based films from famed documentarian Les Blank, among them 1973's Dry Wood and 1978's Always for Pleasure. Basically, it's like being at Mardi Gras, but you don't have to touch all those sweaty drunks and smell their puke. Clinton Street Theater. 7 pm Tuesday, Feb. 9.
Kung Fu Theater dips into its rare 35mm stash for a screening of the only known print of 1979's Jade Claw, an obscure lost classic featuring Billy Chong. Hollywood Theatre. 7:30 pm Tuesday, Feb. 9.
Willamette Week