The Murray Effect
IN AN ERA where fame is a matter of perspective, Bill Murray has become pop culture’s most unlikely dignitary. His appeal is difficult to define, but the actor knew he’d found stardom the moment he watched his hit film, Ghostbusters, 30 years ago.
“Ivan [Reitman] showed us the ballroom scene, the first time we go after a ghost,” he recalled at a gathering to celebrate “Bill Murray Day” at this year’s Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF). “I knew then that I was going to be rich and famous and be able to wear red clothes and not give a damn.”
It’s the sort of insouciant celebrity appraisal we’ve come to expect from Murray, who rose from Saturday Night Live sketch artist to big-screen comedian, followed by a creative lull and a reemergence as an Oscar-nominated dramatic actor and undisputed champion of the viral video age.
The latter owes itself to his incomparable persona: part Buster Keaton poker face and John Belushi social anarchism, with a touch of Bob Newhart’s dry wit and a dash of The Big Lebowski’s unrepentant Dudeness. And for every quotable movie line there’s a tale of Murray arriving unannounced at a stranger’s bachelor party or karaoke session, joining the fun before leaving as mysteriously as he came.
It was his latest film, St. Vincent, that brought him to TIFF, but it was the Murray effect that drew the crowd – multitudes of younger fans dressed as Ghostbusters or donning T-shirts emblazoned with the actor’s face. Murray, for his part, wore red.
St. Vincent opens in Toronto on Oct. 17 and across Canada on Oct. 24.