No one did it like Tim Curry. This was both a blessing and a curse.
It meant Curry was the object your eyes were drawn to the moment he stepped on screen. A multi-faceted actor who embodied both primary forms of the comic book. He could be ridiculously camp. He could be legitimately terrifying.
With the right teammates, it created magic. He brought out the weirdness in Susan Sarandon and made Meat Loaf a viable actor in Rocky Horror Picture Show. He was the plane that elevated Martin Mull and Madeleine Kahn in Clue. He was such a natural playing against the cast in Muppet Treasure Island that you'd be forgiven for thinking he was made of felt.
When he wasn't surrounded by a murderer's row of talent, it was a detriment. Not to the films and television
shows themselves, but to the media they created. He took over the first film version of Stephen King's IT, making Pennywise the stuff of nightmares and, for most of us who grew up in the 90s, the first, second and last thing that comes to mind when we think of the miniseries. His voice was instantly recognizable as the patriarch of The Wild Thornberries. Michael Crichton's Congo? Well, OK, I think about gorillas and terrible plot holes before I get to Curry, but he's the only cast member I can recall from that wet fart of a movie.
Back to the point I was making. The only reason we remember Command & Conquer: Red Alert 3? It happens to be the only escape from capitalism: SPAAAACE.
There was no role too ridiculous for Curry. He bought in with the same gusto whether he was playing a transvestite alien, Soviet premier, wilderness explorer or murder clown. His IMDB is split between iconic roles and absolute doofus hours. King Acorn in the Sonic the Hedgehog cartoon? King Chicken in Duckman? Slagar the Cruel, Nick O'Teen, Prawnda, Neville Baddington or Lazlo Gigahurtz in various other cartoons and shows? I've never watched them, but I can state with 99 percent certainty that Curry brought every ounce of him to the role and made them better.
This was the beauty of Curry. He perpetually showed up with his working shoes on. He was a Major League Baseball ace who turned into a soft-tossing veteran and played for 20 years, becoming a beloved piece of every locker room of which he was part. There was nothing too ridiculous for him.
He could crawl from a drainpipe and into the nightmares of children for decades. He could make getting duped by Kevin McCallister and a handheld tape recorder (apologies, TalkBoy) seem like a viable concept. No, he wasn't smooching with everybody! Snuffy, Al, Leo, Little Moe with the gimpy leg, Cheeks, Boney Bob, Cliff? I could go on forever, baby!
The tragedy isn't just that we lost an actor who shaped pop culture for decades. It's that we didn't get more of him. He shined too brightly for sitcom life in the 1990s and early 2000s, starring in Over the Top and Family Affair -- two shows that lasted exactly 27 episodes between them. He was relegated to voice acting as he aged, unveiling the bravado, hubris and humiliation that defined his sweet spot as an actor and making him recognizable to new generations of fans. Curry was always best when he seemed to be hiding some kind of secret. That he could convey this to the audience while somehow being both cartoonish and completely believable is the tightrope few others can walk.
Curry passed away Tuesday night, aged 80. He'd been waylaid by a stroke in 2012 that effectively ended a prolific career. But even though he hadn't been especially active in the last decade, he still leaves a massive hole in the hearts of, well, pretty much anyone who's consumed pop culture the last 50 years. Especially the nerds.
As soon as my shift is over here, I'm gonna watch Clue.
This article originally appeared on For The Win: Tim Curry gave all of himself to lift up every stupid role
