Paul Walker R.I.P.

So, actor Paul Walker died in a car accident yesterday.  He was one of the stars of one of my least-favorite film franchises.  My sister despised him with a fury beyond how I feel toward Dane Cook.

But I quite liked Paul Walker myself.  My best experience being an extra was working on Clint Eastwood's FLAGS OF OUR FATHERS, in which I got to play a U.S. soldier on a Liberty ship.  We'd arrive at the docks pre-dawn, get our hair cut, get in our uniforms, take our belts and firearms, and load about the vessel, shooting out in the ocean until the sun went down.  One of the days of the shoot, while Ryan Phillipe hung out with women who were not Reese Witherspoon, I ended up talking to Paul Walker and Adam Beach, who were other actors in the picture.

I asked Walker about INTO THE BLUE and making out with Jessica Alba, and he was surprisingly cool and forthcoming, reminding me of the coolest guy in my hometown, who was always friendly and accessible, even to social gimps like me.  Tall, handsome, blond and blue-eyed, Walker basically looked like a Ken doll, and yet he was down-to-earth and not above chatting with extras.  It made me a fan of Paul Walker.

There are a lot of d'bags in the world, and even more in Hollywood.  It was nice to be able to say that he was not one of them. 

I'd have cast him as Captain America, had the brother-in-law on "Chuck" not been available.

He died at age forty, and I don't really know if his star was setting or on the rise.  We won't know now.  As it stands, I guess he'll be remembered for the damned FAST & FURIOUS movies, but it's a shame DC or Marvel couldn't have made a superhero out of him before the end.

Rish Outfield