It's impossible to condense Andreas Katsulas into a few paragraphs of text.
Besides the loss of a tremendously talented actor, we've also lost an intelligent, quick-witted, kind, patient, funny, uniquely attractive and incredibly charming man who had a great joie de vivre, and whose love for his family, his friends, and his life was unparalleled. This much was eminently clear from the short time I got to spend with him, and talk with him.
The measure of a man is greatly revealed by what those left behind say about him. Anywhere you go on the internet in these days following his death, there is overwhelming evidence of the love the fan community felt for Andreas off the screen as well as on it, mainly due to the generosity of spirit he showed in dealing with the fans when he attended the occasional convention. No one has a bad word to say about him, because there _are_ none. When he was around at a convention, people were having fun, because he so clearly was, too. There, he was all smiles and laughter, something we didn't get to see much from him on screen. And what a smile! I remember fondly how he laughed himself through one funny story after another, cracking himself up to a nearly ridiculous degree; laughing so hard at one point that he asked me to finish explaining the plot of the infamous 'joke script' to the audience, after which he continued with the story of how that series of pranks unfolded. But even more than the humor, and the unexpected gentleness, I think that the big surprise for many who met Andreas at conventions was that he did _not_ speak like G'Kar -- G'Kar's crisp, 'standard English' became Andreas's thoroughly midwestern speech -- but he was no less delightful for that, no less a pleasure to see, no less a treasure to listen to.
While he'll probably be remembered by most of the public as a "Hollywood bad guy," he played a range of roles on screen that belied that narrow descriptor. In "King of America," "Communion," "Milo Milo," "A Piece of Eden" and others, he showed us his range from comedy to pathos, while even his bad guy roles showed breadth, ranging from the comic ("Jane Austen's Mafia!," "Sunset," "Hot Shots Part Deux!") to the complex ("The Sicilian," "Serie Noir," "Next of Kin") to the absolutely chilling ("Someone to Watch Over Me," "Death of the Incredible Hulk," "The Fugitive"). Of course, none of these roles can hold a candle to the emotions, the travails, the energies and the colors he got to play in G'Kar. G'Kar was, quite simply, the role of a lifetime. And Andreas's nuanced portrayal made G'Kar _live_.
You couldn't help but feel comfortable around Andreas, he was so comfortable in his own skin and so un-Hollywood. Thus, soon after we met, I was speaking so conversationally that I ended up sort of putting my foot in my mouth. I was telling him that I thought his agent ought to try to get him cast on "The Sopranos," since he had such an impressive resume of mobster performances to his credit, and that as an added plus, he'd already worked with several of the cast. I recalled Lorraine Bracco in "Someone to Watch Over Me"; we talked about my father's cousin (a friend of Andreas's from college) who coaches James Gandolfini; and then I tried to remember the name of "that crappy movie you did with the guy who plays Paulie Walnuts - I think it was 'New York Cop'...?" I suddenly realized what I'd said, and quickly added, "Uh, but of course _you_ were great in it. In fact, you manage to elevate any material that you're given." That's what I think when I look at his body of work: not all of it was Great Cinema, but Andreas managed to elevate any material that he performed. As Stanislawski said, "there are no small parts; only small actors." Andreas made every part, every line, every rubber-foreheaded character a big, well-crafted performance.
Although, we admirers only have his work on screen to look back upon. His wealth of experience on the stage is lost in the mists of time, with few exceptions. His performance as Snout the Tinker in Joe Papp's New York Shakespeare Festival production of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" is, happily, preserved on video, and there's a rumor of a French language tv production of "Measure for Measure," performed by the Peter Brook company with Andreas as Claudio, although an actual copy has eluded me thus far. But what I wouldn't have given to have seen him play the bound Prometheus, chained to the wall of the ruined castle of Darius the Great at Persepolis, in Peter Brook's landmark production of "Orghast" in Persia. If Andreas was masterful on screen, I imagine he must have been awe-inspiring to see on the living stage.
Andreas was a particularly bright spark of star stuff. His absence will be keenly felt.
It was a hard way to go. It pains me to think of how he must have suffered, although I'm sure that he fought well, and bravely. And I'm equally sure that what he would want us to remember is the vital, strapping man he was when he was at the top of his game. That's the man the filmed record will recall, and so, then, shall we.
Gone, gone far too soon. And how we miss him already!
Fans all over the internet have been talking about what episodes they've been watching since hearing the news, talking about which G'Kar scenes they simply _had_ to see again. But I haven't watched any of Andreas's work again yet. I'm still too raw, and I fear that seeing him, hearing his voice, watching his great and subtle bits of physical business (and for such a big guy, he could move with astonishing grace and agility), will simply overwhelm me and open the floodgates. And I'm not ready for that yet. Will I find it in my heart to be able to open up and grieve fully? Perhaps, but not today.
Beloved by so many. Mourned by all.
Beannacht leat*, Andreas. May you walk well in the places where we can't yet join you. Save a place for us; and we'll raise a glass to you.
Amy
*("Blessed be" in Gaelic)
(As a postscript, I'm providing a link to a memorial page I created. I'd actually been playing around with the graphic for some time, since meeting Andreas and insisting that I could do a much better website for him than the one he had - to which he replied that he'd never even seen his own website as he didn't own a computer! - so all I did this week was add the text, and embed a sound file in the page. The song is an old one written by the band Renaissance, and the performance is mine, from a long-ago house session that we happened to record. It seemed to fit the mood well enough. The page is at:
http://www.fjordstone.com/andreas.)