In Character: John Carroll Lynch

One of the things I respect so much about John Carroll Lynch is that he doesn’t rely on his physique to deliver a memorable performance. And what an imposing physique it is: big, brooding, the shell of a man’s man. But for the roles I’ve highlighted in this post, rarely does Lynch use his intimidating stature as a major character point.

Some actors are chameleons, changing their appearance with every passing role, physically separating their real self from their characters. Others appear the same in each role, relying more on internal changes to create a unique character. John Carroll Lynch is the latter, a man we all recognize but whose characters are never the same. From everyman to loving husband to psychopathic killer, most all of Lynch’s characters look the part. What makes them fun is examining what’s inside.

Five Essential Roles

Fargo (1996)

Norm Gunderson

You gotta love good ol’ Norm son of a Gunderson. The man personifies Minnesota Nice with his kind, unassuming, loyal demeanor. Everything he does is done in unselfish support of his wife, Marge. But beyond Norm’s gentleness, I love how Lynch makes him feel like an everyday guy. Listen to the way he snorts loudly as he prepares to make Marge breakfast, or the way he hazily stammers awake as Marge turns off the TV for the night.

It’s those little details that help make Coen brothers’ characters so damn unique. Their writing is an essential part, no question, but it takes the right actor to sell it so convincingly.

The Good Girl (2002)

Jack Field

Similarly to my affection for Norm Gunderson, much of the reason why I adore Jack Field is because he feels so authentic. I mean really, who hasn’t meet a guy like Jack Field? A slow-moving schlub who manages a local store, sneaks packs of M&M’S when no one is looking, calls his employees “good girls,” and lets his staff have the day off after an employee has died.

The Good Girl is full of subtle bits of Americana humor, none better than Jack Field sitting behind a window, telling his staff that a recently deceased employee should be remembered for having “a good attitude…she had ideas.” Seldom can an actor convey the mundane so amusingly.

Carnivàle (2005)

Varlyn Stroud

The main rebuttal to my appreciation of Lynch rarely relying on his imposing physique is, of course, his arresting work on HBO’s Carnivàle. Lynch appeared on the show’s second season, as a murdering psychopath who literally thinks he is the archangel-made-flesh of a murdering psychopath minister named Brother Justin Crowe (Clancy Brown, who I really need to cover in this series as well). Watching Varlyn strut and impose his way through Carnivàle proved to be one of the highlights of that final season. That dude just felt like a monster.

Things We Lost in the Fire (2007)

Howard Glassman

When Susanne Bier’s Things We Lost in the Fire first came out, I remember reading Lisa Schwarzbaum’s review that said the film would be much more compelling if it focused more on Howard Glassman’s domestic troubles. And while I certainly liked Bier’s film more than Schwarzbaum, it’s hard for me to disagree with someone who suggests that John Carroll Lynch lead a film. Any film.

Howard is the kind of guy who needs a buddy. Stuck in a suburban, soul-crushing marriage, Howard takes every opportunity he can to confide in whoever will listen, including a helpless drug addict named Jerry (Benicio Del Toro). “I hate my wife,” Howard shares with Jerry. “I hate everything about her,” he says with a smile so pathetic it can’t even begin to be dangerous.

“How such a husband negotiates a life of uneventful loathing would make a great, adult movie,” Schwarzbaum initially wrote. And the more I think about it… damn if she isn’t right.

Gran Torino (2008)

Barber Martin

Who better to help a young, awkward Hmong kid become a man than an ornery Italian-American barber? Lynch isn’t in Clint Eastwood’s Gran Torino for very long, but his profane representation of just another fella ‘round the neighborhood is one of the highlights of the film. The scene where Eastwood and Lynch attempt to teach Bee Vang how to walk and talk and act like a man is certainly the most humorous moment of the film, but also one of the comedic highlights of Lynch’s career. And, by the film’s end, leave it to Lynch to gracefully flip that stereotype-brand comedy into subtle, poignant reflection.

The Best of the Best

Zodiac (2007)

Arthur Leigh Allen

Six minutes. That’s how long John Carroll Lynch’s character in in David Fincher’s crime noir masterpiece, Zodiac. Proof that the power to impose fear on the audience has nothing whatsoever to do with the amount of time you’re on screen.

The Zodiac serial killer terrorized northern California in the late ‘60s early ‘70s, and many closely involved with the case, including cartoonist-turned-novelist Robert Graysmith, considered Arthur Leigh Allen to be the primary suspect. Graysmith’s first book, on which Fincher’s film is based, never tells us who killed those people in the Bay area. Mostly because the world never knew either.

And it’s that constant hint of danger that Lynch brings to the screen so chillingly. When we first meet Allen, the audience has as much fun sizing him up as the police in the scene do. We watch his bulky frame and his awkward mannerisms; we study his voice and wonder why he nervously divulges more information than he has to. We quickly learn to fear Arthur Leigh Allen, but we also wonder if we should just feel bad for him.

Because Allen died in 1992, we’ll likely never know who the Zodiac was (though Graysmith did label Allen as the killer with 100 percent certainty in his follow-up novel, “Zodiac Unmasked”). Fincher knows this, which is what makes Lynch’s final scene of Zodiac one of the single best moments of Lynch’s career. Staring at Jake Gyllenhaal intently, first with the politeness of a clerk helping a customer, next with curiosity, finally with scorn. “You think you know who I am?” Lynch’s look says. Nope, and we probably never will.

Other Notable Roles

In Confidence

It’s important to note that while I am knowledgeable of Lynch’s film career, I am admittedly ill informed about his work in television. Lynch has delivered many memorable characters on the small screen, but the majority of them are unseen by me. Looks like I have some TV viewing to do.

Beautiful Girls (1996)

The Drew Carey Show (1997-2004)

Volcano (1997)

Face/Off (1997)

From the Earth to the Moon (1998)

Tuesdays with Morrie (1999)

Gothika (2003)

The Brotherhood of Portland, New Hampshire (2003)

Confidence (2003)

Close to Home (2005-2007)

K-Ville (2007-2008)

Shutter Island (2010)

Hesher (2010)

Crazy, Stupid, Love. (2011)

Body Proof (2011-2012)

Do No Harm (2013)