Mike was saying with his usual wry humor, âWhat can we do about his nose?â Or, âHe looks like he has one eyebrowâ; and they plucked in between my eyebrows. Dear Mike, who was, on the one hand, extremely courageous to cast me, in the end was at the same time aware that I looked nothing like what the part called for.â Hoffman laughs.
Weâre having breakfast in a Columbus Avenue restaurant near his apartment in New York City. He arrives in buoyant spirits, dressed in jeans, white T-shirt, and blue blazer. Right away he befriends the waitressââWhere did you grow up?â She turns out to be from his childhood neighborhood in Los Angeles: Orlando Street. âOh my God,â he says, âI grew up on Flores!â
He orders very specific âlooseâ scrambled egg whites with one yoke thrown in, plus onions, salsa, and garlic. âNot too dry, no milk, no butter; a little olive oil.â Hoffman shakes his head when I order my omelet. âOmelets arenât the best way to go,â he advises me. âScrambled is tastier. But you go ahead with your omelet.â
Back to 1967: Nichols, who had seen Hoffman in an off-Broadway play, invited him to California to audition: âI flew out to L.A. with very little notice, and of course hadnât slept,â says Hoffman. âI was very nervous. And in my memory, it was an eight-page or ten-page scene in the bedroom, and of course I kept fucking it up. I distinctly remember Mike taking me aside and saying, âJust relax; youâre so nervous. Have you ever done a screen test before?â I said, âNo.â He said, âItâs
nothing
; these are just crew people here; youâre not on a stage. This is just film; no oneâs going to see it. This isnât going into theaters.â And I nodded and I was so thankful that he was trying to soften me; but then he put his hand out to shake mine, and his hand was so sweaty that my hand slipped out of it.
Now
I was terrified. Because I knew, â
That man is as scared as I am
.â
âI felt, from my subjective point of view, that the whole crew was wondering, âWhy is this ugly little Jew even trying out for this part called Benjamin Braddock?â I looked for a Jewish face in the film crew, but I donât think I sensed one Jew. It was the culmination of everything I had ever feared and dreaded about Aunt Pearl.â Heâs referring to his Aunt Pearl, who, upon learning that âDustyâ wanted to become an actor, remarked: ââYou canât be an actor; youâre too ugly.ââ âIt was like a banner,â Hoffman continues: ââ
Aunt Pearl was right!
â Sheâd warned me.â
Hoffman reaches into the bread basket to break off small chips of a baguette. âIt was probably one of the more courageous pieces of casting any director has done in the history of American movies,â he continues. âAnd an act of courage is sometimes accompanied by a great deal of fear.â
Obviously the film went on to become a classic and made Hoffman a star. But even after becoming a Hollywood icon, with memorable roles in such films as
Midnight Cowboy, Marathon Man, Kramer vs. Kramer, Tootsie
, and
Rainman
, at the age of sixty-eight, Hoffman says heâs still being âmiscastâ: âSomeone told me about a review of this movie I did,
Runaway Jury
, which indicated that I was miscast because the part was a Southern gentleman lawyer. Which must mean to that critic, âHe shouldnât be Jewish.â The unconscious racism is extraordinaryâas if there are no Southern gentlemen Jews. So he implied I was miscast. And I mentioned that to my wife and she said, âWell, youâve always been miscast.â And sheâs right. The truth is that youâve got two hundred million people in this country and I donât know the number of Jewsâare there six or seven