LUCID FORGE

I curled up with a cup of tea to watch The Late Show With David Letterman last night. Not a regular viewer by any means, I was lured by the prospect of seeing a favourite actor give what I figured might be a bizarre interview. Yes, I'd read about Joaquin Phoenix's supposed transition from actor to hip-hopper. And I'd seen the photos of the once-delicately-beautiful actor with the intense gaze now bearded, dirty and unruly, like a modern-day Jim Morrison, determined to wipe that St. Sebastien-esque beauty right out of history and the minds of every person (like me) who could claim pre-Gladiator memories. But I'd questioned the sincerity of the whole thing since a/ he seems like a pretty smart guy, in every interview I'd seen or read, quoting poets, referencing obscure films, and genuinely coming off as smarter (if more scarily insecure) than the average Hollywood star; and b/ he's being followed around and filmed in this transition by Casey Affleck, best friend and brother-in-law.

Ever since inscribing GOOD-BYE! across his knuckles last October to announce his retirement from the film industry, rumours have been flying around about his the truth behind his decision. Is it a genuine desire to explore new creative terrain, or an elaborate, dada-esque performance art joke? While he received huge acclaim for Walk The Line (for which he garnered his second Oscar nomination, the first was for his scary turn as the Emperor Commodus in Gladiator), I was personally non-plussed; sure, he captured music legend Johnny Cash's dark spots, but the voice failed to impress, and the eyes lied. He was always too delicate to be doomed, that sensitive face too expressive to capture Cash's hardness, the voice a Captain Beefheart-esque bellow that bellied a more contemplative (if nasal) tenor. He was playing at being Cash, but looked uncomfortable; now it seems he needs practise at being himself.