National Post (National Edition)
Comedy flipped the image
In honour of the late actor, here are the roles that defined his comedic presence.
ARTIE ON THE LARRY
SANDERS SHOW
By the time Torn landed a role on an HBO comedy in 1992, he had portrayed three U.S. presidents: Ulysses Grant, Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon. He’d also appeared in comedies, such as Airplane II: The Sequel, but most fans knew the towering man as a dramatic actor who could bring a scowl with a side of gruff masculinity to any role.
He imbued Artie with those very same qualities, only this time his over-thetop toxic and threatening nature was played for laughs. The sitcom was a behind-thescenes satire of a late-night show, this one hosted by Garry Shandling’s Larry Sanders. His producer Artie cares only about the show going well, so he keeps things running smoothly, often by threatening the show’s staff and guests.
Long before Veep, Torn’s Artie turned cursing into an art form. It was so integral to his character that this reporter spent nearly an hour trying to find a clip from the show that could be shared — or even described — in a family newspaper. This reporter failed.
For his efforts, Torn earned six consecutive Emmy nominations as Artie, winning one. Perhaps more importantly, it made him a bone fide comic actor.
A felicitous result of his role as Artie was how many big-budget studio comedies suddenly used him in small, cameo roles. Torn’s character was usually some play off his own persona: an imposing slice of Texas beef who seemed like he belonged in the Wild West, not Hollywood.
Many point to his role in 1997’s Men in Black as Zed, the agent who recruits Will Smith to the secret government agency that polices extraterrestrial life.
Zed might be a great character, but none stand up to his bonkers appearance in Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story as Patches O’Houlihan, a retired dodgeballer himself who teaches a motley crew how to play the game. With unruly hair and a patch-covered leather jacket, O’Houlihan offers oddly poignant advice, such as “If you’re going to become true dodgeballers, then you’ve got to learn the five D’s of dodge ball: dodge, duck, dip, dive and dodge!”
The character is the absurdist (and most absurd) satire of masculinity. When he holds the team’s first practice, he doesn’t throw dodgeballs at them. Instead, he hurls metal wrenches from his wheelchair at the unprotected rookies. Why? “If you dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball.”
And when questioned if such a tactic is necessary, he responds, “Is it necessary for me to drink my own urine? No. But I do it anyway, because it’s sterile and I like the taste.”
Much like the movie, the role is utterly, utterly stupid, juvenile and ridiculous. And yet, it’s difficult to look away each time he reaches for another wrench.
THE FEARFUL DON GEISS ON 30 ROCK
Torn showed a particular ability to fit into comedy for several decades, even as the genre itself changed drastically. Nothing better displayed this than his role in Tina Fey’s 30 Rock as Don Geiss, the hyper-Republican chief executive of GE who is idolized by Alec Baldwin’s Jack Donaghy.
This time, he took on a different type of masculinity: that of corporate America. In a pre-recorded tape Geiss made in 1987 in the “event of economic meltdown,” he says, “If you’re watching this, you’re an executive of the General Electric Corporation, and the unthinkable is happening. Capitalism is ending. Either because of the Soviets or something ridiculous, like a woman president.”
Eventually, Geiss chooses Jack to replace him before falling in a coma. When he awakes, he tells Jack, “Congratulations. You are the first to know officially that I am staying on as CEO. A beam of energy came and spoke to me during my coma. I don’t know what it was. It could have been an alien. Maybe it was God. Maybe it was an unborn Aztec king, but it told me my work here is not yet done. You’re still my choice to take over when I die, if that ever even happens.”
Torn knew how the world perceived him and used comedy to flip that image on its head.
He could have remained a fierce dramatic actor until the end, but as he once told Esquire, “Let the other guys do the crybaby stuff. Go for the laughs.”
The Washington Post
TORN’S ARTIE TURNED CURSING INTO AN ART FORM.