The overwhelming reaction to the news Dennis Hopper has filed to divorce his fifth wife Victoria Duffy-Hopper, despite reportedly only having days to live, is one of confusion.
Hopper was diagnosed with prostate cancer last October. In a recent statement by his spokesperson, Hopper, 73, wanted: “to spend his final days surrounded by family and friends.” There have, however, been conflicting reports that the divorce is born of a stand-off between Duffy-Hopper and Hopper’s oldest daughter, Marin, over ownership of his Californian estate and sizable bank account.
Hopper is beyond doubt an icon of cinema. But critics argue, with some justification, perhaps, that he never pushed on after his defining role in Blue Velvet, in which he played the iconic tormented maniac Frank Booth. After reading the script, Hopper apparently called David Lynch, saying: “You have to let me play Frank Booth. Because I am Frank Booth.”
He has had a number of reasonably small, albeit brilliant parts in brilliant movies; The hypomanic journo in Apocalypse Now who fell under the spell of the rogue Kurtz, Babalugats the bet-taker in Cool Hand Luke, the partially failed Dad in True Romance. The moment he accepts a cigarette from Christopher Walken after realising the true gravity of the situation is, for me, the best moment in the film.
Considering his career was launched by Easy Rider, a film that has become emblematic of independent cinema, there have also been a couple of poorly advised roles in high-budget, high-concept Hollywood films that seemed dated as soon as they were released onto video. Waterworld, despite a few moments, was pretty bad. Speed was worse. Super Mario Bros. was a mockery.
In his private life, Hopper has had to endure a series of accusations from former wives of domestic abuse fueled by drug and alcohol addiction. Hopper’s last filmic role in which he plays a central character was the 2008 film Elegy, directed by Spanish director Isabel Coixet. Based on the Phillip Roth novel The Dying Animal, Elegy was an understated but powerfully expressed film and, since its release, co-stars Ben Kingsley and Penélope Cruz have seen their fortunes increase and have appeared in a slew of films after experiencing for a time Hollywood’s cold shoulder.
Hopper played George O’Hearn, a rock ‘n’ roll poet who acts as confidante and advice-giver to the main protagonist, Ben Kingsley’s David Kapesh. Both characters are egotistical and masculine to the extreme and very morally dubious, but have the intellect to justify their actions as motivated by independence and self-actualisation. The duologues between Hopper and Kingsley are wonderfully considered, providing the audience with a far greater degree of insight than a voice-over ever could. Later in the film, Hopper’s character begins to suffer from a debilitating cardiac problem. His loyal and long-suffering wife, played in the film by Blondie’s Debbie Harry, is painfully aware of her husband’s misdemeanors, but continues to care for him regardless. It seems, sometimes, art dovetails with reality. Or almost.
If the worst happens, Hopper will surely be missed. He has succeeded in keeping the goatee firmly on the landscape of acceptable things for middle-aged men to wear. He contributed memorable performances to some great movies, and he lived hard. Let us hope he is not a dying breed.
