I've been subscribed to Deadline's several newsletters for years. And while I don't open them very often, I always read the email subject lines. "Peter Greene Dies" is the most shattering email subject that's ever come into my inbox.
I saw Peter for the first time in "The Mask" as a kid. Everyone else was watching Jim Carrey, but I was inexplicably drawn to him. "The Mask" is so profoundly ridiculous. I think part of my fascination with him was how Dorian's storyline is so outside of the silliness of the rest of the movie. He's getting golf balls hit out of his mouth by his mobster boss like it's "The Godfather", and Jim is turning into a whistling, cartoon wolf at the sight of Cameron Diaz.
I continued to follow Peter in the way that I follow actors I latch onto. I went down his IMDB and sought out the films I could access and watch via Netflix (back when it was a DVD rental service). That's how I saw "Clean, Shaven" for the first time -- an indie drama/character study that follows a young man (Greene) with untreated schizophrenia and his attempt to be a father to his young daughter. It came out in 1994. From what I've heard him say in interviews, I think that's what Peter secretly wanted his career to be -- a series of highly-regarded indie films that would bring out the best of him as an actor. But "Pulp Fiction" also came out in 1994, and that movie, where he played an unhinged security guard who gleefully sexually assaults someone, had a much larger influence on his career than "Clean, Shaven" did. Peter got a bit pigeon-holed. He was forever the bad guy. The drug lord. The small-time hustler. The heavy. He felt very aware of it, but he never seemed ungrateful. He was old school, and acting work of any kind meant making rent. Directors and writers who worked with him later in his career also felt aware of his typecasting, and a few of them tried to give him parts that were unlike what he was known for. Those were my favorite roles to watch him in.
As a writer, I wanted to give him the emotional depth he wanted in his work. I knew I couldn't really execute on a project like that, but I could put it on paper and send him the message that I thought he could portray more than a villain. I wrote a short film called "Asleep" with him in mind. It was a raw and emotional exploration of grief after the preventable loss of a child. To this day, it may be the heaviest thing I've ever written. I had the channels to send him the script and tell him that I wrote every bit of it while picturing him as the lead, but I never did it. I thought maybe he'd be unmoved by my audaciousness. Or that he'd just laugh at me for sending him a script I had no resources to make. I ultimately chickened out.
In 2019, after having a dream about seeing him at a party, I put together a 6-episode podcast called "Million-Dollar Day Player" with some friends. It was a celebration of his work that I didn't see anyone else doing. Each episode, I discussed one of my favorite roles of Peter's with a different co-host. Through the lovely Sissy Gamache, who so deeply believed in my little podcast, Peter found out about it and sent me the video message below. I never posted it publicly, but I watched that thing about a million times. I used to grin at him saying he hoped to meet me soon. Now it just hurts.
I didn't know Peter, but I adored him in a way that was completely irrational and unconditional. Through his faults. Through his well-documented demons. Through the unflattering things about him that may or may not have been true when he was at his lowest...he was so thoroughly cared for by me. I hope he finds peace in the afterlife, whatever that looks like for him.
My condolences go out to the people he left behind who have a number in their phone that connects to no one now