Not long ago, in an event sponsored by the City of Pasadena,
I heard the late Stephen Hawking speak. Or, to be precise, he was present in
the hall, and his voicebox was doing the speaking. I don’t remember anything he
said, but I know he was charming and funny. And I’ll never forget the sense of
awe that filled the room as he was escorted up the aisle. We all knew we were
in the presence of a very special being.
Why was Stephen Hawking such a memorable figure? Surely it
wasn’t because of his scientific achievements, which most mere mortals could
barely understand. I suspect we loved him because he gave off a sense that
man—even a man with a fragile and rapidly degrading body—could accomplish anything
he chose. Despite the indignities of early-onset ALS, Hawking managed to live a
life of achievement, making scientific breakthroughs, writing a best-selling
book, and taking part in scholarly debates about the nature of the universe. He
also had a full emotional life, which included two marriages and three
children. And he was able to enjoy the perks of global celebrity, including
humorous guest-star appearances on Star
Trek, The Simpsons, and The Big Bang Theory. So what if he
wasn’t a good candidate for Dancing With
the Stars? In terms of public acclaim, he had it all.
Including, of course, an award-winning movie about his life.
The Theory of Everything was a 2014
British film, based on Jane Hawking’s memoir, Travelling to Infinity: My
Life with Stephen. The film begins at the University of Cambridge, where a
young, slightly nerdy student of astrophysics and a pretty literature major
fall in love. As their romance progresses and Stephen plunges into the study of
black holes, he is diagnosed with motor neuron disease. Though the future looks
bleak, Stephen and Jane marry and start a family. And so it goes, with the
marriage fraying as Stephen’s body disintegrates. Still, everyone behaves
fairly nobly, and the ending is what critics have called “triumphant.” The film
was nominated for five Oscars, including Best Picture and Best Actress
(Felicity Jones). In a big year for biographical portraits—including Benedict
Cumberbatch as Alan Turing in The Imitation Game, Bradley Cooper as
Chris Kyle in American Sniper, Steve
Carell as John du Pont in Foxcatcher,
and David Oyelowo as Martin Luther King in Selma—the
little-known Eddie Redmayne won the Best Actor Oscar for impersonating Stephen
Hawking.
Redmayne vividly captures Hawking’s personality, but of
course part of the role’s award-bait potential came from the chance it gave the
able-bodied young actor to show Hawking’s gradual physical self-destruction. Surely
there’s no scientific way to choose a “best” actor or actress, since each of
the nominees has taken on a very different sort of role. That being said, Oscar
voters often favor those who display the most dramatic physical transformation.
Think, for instance, of Daniel Day-Lewis as a cerebral palsy victim in My Left Foot. Think Tom Hanks battling
AIDS in Philadelphia and Matthew
McConaughey doing the same in Dallas
Buyers Club, with both actors losing copious amounts of weight in order to
be convincing. Then there are the heavy makeup roles, with actors rewarded for
their ability to put forth a convincing characterization from beneath loads of
Latex. .This year’s winner, Gary
Oldman, was brilliantly transformed into Winston Churchill. His role in Darkest Hour required of him both solid
acting chops and hours in the makeup chair.
I salute Eddie Redmayne’s performance, but Stephen Hawking
was one in a billion. Our universe is poorer without him.
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