Like most I was incredibly saddened to hear of actor Dennis Hopper’s passing yesterday, May 29^th, after long suffering prostate cancer. And just a short time after his 74^th birthday and final recognition on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Wherever Hopper went, whatever movie his rebellious aura struck left a distinct imprint unworthy of no one before him. He was, in every sense, “one suave fucker.”

Rebel Without a Cause made Hopper a true star in 1955, but sprung into his own with 1969’s Easy Rider, which he directed, co-wrote and starred in (also earning himself an Oscar nod). But the flick that slam-bang got me was David Lynch’s Blue Velvet, in which Hopper portrayed the schizophrenic, abusive badass Frank Booth. Some rag the film itself is so tedious Hopper is weighed down by needless substance. Without him, Blue Velvet is nothing. Maybe so, but removing Hopper from anything is taking the peanut butter and jelly away from the two slices of bread. You’re left with a stale misunderstanding stuck in wayward fast-paced times.

Though Hopper was so much more than a name; he was a man. Easy Rider, Blue Velvet, Knockaround Guys – there was an aspect to his characters that he was able to pick away at and analyze, resulting in raw people who at heart were far away beings stuck inside a place unable to understand them. We can’t really know what was going through Hopper’s head in Blue Velvet or Easy Rider besides the craft of a man who sincerely loved what he was doing, and whether it was important or not, didn’t give a care. Hopper embodied the heart and spirit of the American dream without ever giving it a second look.

I go back to Blue Velvet just because of how much that movie astoundingly affected me. The unclenched creation of Frank Booth exploded in flying color thanks to Hopper. His acting was character-driven, leaving him not less of a man but sharing some of that depraved masculinity with the sense of individuality the onscreen players felt lost without.

Later in life Hopper remained as distinguished as ever in brief sprints on 24, The Piano Player, and the Showtime series Crash, also releasing numerous scrapbooks based of his interest in photography. I’ve never met Hopper or even seen Hopper in person, but as for his film persona I saw a Hollywood outlaw never game enough to play by anybody else’s rules. Hopper was a defiant legend. Rest in peace, Easy Rider. Take a moment to recognize one of America’s true greats and settle in knowing that wherever a Texas police Marshall hunts an unleashed cannibal, a coach disciplines a high school basketball team, or a confused teenager pops open a bottle of Heineken Hopper will be there in essence, telling you to can that crap and open up a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon.