Denholm Elliott is dead. This is not breaking news, as it happened way back in 1992. And honestly, if you were coming here for current hot-stove celebrity news, you've misread the last 20-plus years of my posting history. To the extent that there is an operating philosophy behind any of this, it's that nothing published here should ever be misconstrued as enlightening, informative, actionable or timely. Developing and maintaining a reputation for that kind of reliability and/or usefulness comes with it way too much implicit responsibility. I have a cat, I'm already way over-booked in that department.
Besides mourning a deeply dependable British character actor and also taking a minute to refresh myself on some of his roles and accomplishments,* mentioning him is just a culmination of thoughts I had today when I was filling up my 32-ounce large drink cup with iced tea before I enjoyed a bean and rice burrito at a local Mexican fast food institution. I concede that it's possible that the connection there is not apparent or immediate to some of you, so I will flesh it out, just in case.
My first experience with Denholm Elliott was in Trading Places, the Eddie Murphy-Dan Aykroyd-Jamie Lee Curtis high-concept comedy from 1983. I don't remember when or where I saw it, but I imagine it was on early HBO in the 1980s, at somebody else's house (HBO used to be just for fancy people), and it definitely contained way, way too many boobs for whatever age I was. Also a man gets sodomized by a gorilla. You know, as a joke.
It's very possible I first saw him in Raiders of the Lost Ark, but he played Marcus Brody so straight in that one, I don't think he stuck out that much and I only recognized him retroactively. To be fair, he was competing with animatronic snakes and Nazis having their faces melted by a box of ghosts. If you compare it to his later turn as Marcus in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, he went from Supporting Exposition Man to Main Comic Relief, a gigantic upgrade and, to Steven Spielberg's credit, really leaned into what Denholm Elliott could deliver as a performer. Iconic line readings, effortless stealing of scenes... everyone once in a while, this Spielberg guy gets something right. Credit where it's due.
In the intervening nine years between Last Crusade and the goofy-ass, abortive (but still ultimately delivered) follow-up Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, Elliott died (today I learned) due to AIDS-related complications. This is before we started CGI-ing digital zombie avatars of dead people into films, so in an apt reflection of the creative effort that went into Crystal Skull, Spielberg et alia cast deeply dependable British character actor** Jim Broadbent as Indiana Jones' new English Supporting Exposition Man, probably actually named Marcuss Broddy.
Part of the attempted creative character and narrative messaging in that film has to do with time passing and the life transitions forced upon us by aging, conceding agency from one generation to the next. This had also been touched on in Last Crusade, but in that case the handoff was to the protagonist from his supporting Dad character, so we didn't take much note of it. But now, it's a central theme because the check is being cashed agaisnt the account of Indiana Jones himself, to the benefit of (let me double check my notes here to be sure I haven't made a grave error... nope, it still inexplicably says) Shia LeBoeuf.
English Supporting Exposition Man Who Is Not Denholm Elliott, from his home nestled deeply in Act 1 of Crystal Skull, delivers the iconic and THEME-CRITICAL nut graf: "We seem to have reached the age where life stops giving us things and starts taking them away." Were they mostly referring to Sean Connery in that line? It's not impossible! But they mentioned Marcus Brody directly, and this is his stand-in character specifically delivering the line, so yeah, it makes me think more of Denholm Elliott. Roger Moore was a better James Bond, too. I said it.
Of course the movie then blatantly betrays itself by spending the rest of its run-time just giving Indiana Jones new things like a rekindling with his One That Got Away in a sparky, game Karen Allen and the burden of a new son in the-guy-whose-name-we-already-mentioned-it's-fine. We had to wait for Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny to do a way better job of directly pitting Indy against mortality, even if it still wasn't great. But give me a choice between Sh*a L*Bo*uf and Phoebe Waller-Bridge and, well, Phoebe Waller-Bridge is Roger Moore all day.
Again, what I'm getting at is obvious, but in case I have to spell it out: I've had to give up drinking diet soda. I know. I was at the burrito place and I was getting iced tea (to be fair, they do pretty good iced tea) instead of my normal Diet Coke (I buy Coke Zero at home, but Coke Zero from soda fountains is gross for some reason) as yet another adjustment to mitigate my ongoing low-level medical issues that do not have an obvious solution, or even palliative program, as yet. I've already given up pretty much all meat except poultry to control for cholestorol, even though I'm on a pill for that now anyway. And now, what, I can't give myself the pleasure of some lab-made harsh chemical sugar-substitute fizzy caffeine delivery vehicle, for what? Dried leaves steeped in some water.
I've reached the point where life stops giving me things and starts taking them away.
Well, the joke's on them (whomever has told me to cut out diet soda, my own nagging inner voice I guess), because it doesn't seem to be helping that much! Next thing you know They are going to be telling me to stop eating fast-food burritos the size of my forearm as overeating is as likely a culprit for digestive discomfort as anything.
Oh god, there's no bottom, is there?
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*Did you know he won a BAFTA for his role in Trading Places? That was news to me just today! Pretty happy about it too, he was great in that. Hang on, did this blog just lead to something informative
**Please do not describe him as such in front of Mike Leigh
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