Ben Affleck Is a Genius

For years, I’ve been telling people about The Time I Saw Ben Affleck.

Ben There, Done That
Nine entries in the Affleck oeuvre you’ve probably missed. Even if you’re one of those die-hards who saw Surviving Christmas. By Jason Schwartz

Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992)

Appearing in just one scene as “Basketball Player #10,” Affleck played a benchwarmer to teen heartthrobs Luke Perry and Kristy Swanson. It could’ve been worse—Seth Green’s screen time was cut altogether.

Glory Daze (1996)

This limited release about a college grad struggling with his future was forgettable, save for the movie poster, on which Affleck sports quite possibly the funniest Fu Manchu in film history. (Seriously: Google it.)

Office Killer (1997)

His no-doubt-stirring performance as “Man in Office” was left on the cutting-room floor, but Affleck got the last laugh—the film grossed just $37,400, about $225 million less than Good Will Hunting, which would debut a month later.

Phantoms (1998)

Said film critic Roger Ebert of Affleck’s portrayal of a small-town sheriff confronting a centuries-old evil entity in this adaptation of the Dean Koontz horror novel: He wears “an absurd cowboy hat.” And that was it.

200 Cigarettes (1999)

One reviewer wrote of this indie pic, “The man everyone seems to want is a goofy bartender [Affleck], who seems sort of desirable, at least until he opens his mouth.” Incidentally, Affleck no longer smokes.

Joseph: King of Dreams (2000)

In the midst of his playboy days—and just a year before entering rehab—Affleck lends his voice as Joseph for this straight-to-video animated Bible adventure.

Daddy and Them (2001)

Director Billy Bob Thornton’s character reconnects with family after his redneck uncle, played by Jim “Hey Vern!” Varney, is incarcerated for murder. Luckily for Affleck, in the role of a combustible lawyer, the film never earned wide release.

I was at the gym, trudging listlessly along on an elliptical trainer, when out of the corner of my eye I observed a tall, dark-haired man in an orange T-shirt mounting the machine next to mine. My dominant emotion, at that moment, was mild annoyance: The club’s cardio area was almost entirely empty, and I’ve always believed that unacquainted exercisers should afford each other at least a little personal space, a buffer of, say, one unoccupied treadmill between them, if at all possible, for the sake of politeness.

But I didn’t think too much more about it until my roommate B. appeared approximately five minutes later, fresh from an oddly abbreviated circuit-training session, and proceeded to lean all over my console, asking an endless series of inane questions and casting lots of intense glances at the adjacent machine. Even then, I didn’t turn my head; I just figured that the guy next to me was exercising in a manner that my roommate for whatever reason found riveting.

It was only later, after we’d left the gym and returned to our apartment, that I learned of my brush with greatness.

“We just saw Ben Affleck,” B. informed our next-door neighbor.

“We did?” I asked, incredulous. “Where?”

“At the gym,” he said, speaking slowly. “You were right next to him. You seriously didn’t notice?”

No, I hadn’t. I’d spent, it seems, the better part of an hour in very close proximity to one of Boston’s biggest celebrities—a man who was, back then in 1999, still thought of as something of a golden boy—and I didn’t even see him at all.

And that brings me, in a roundabout way, to my point: I’m not sure anyone ever really sees Ben Affleck. Not then, and not now. Sure, he’s been in our faces for what feels like forever—at the movies, in the tabloids, stumping for politicians, partying with strippers, in rehab, out of rehab, rooting for his darling Red Sox—but he’s simply too famous. In short order, he blew right past celebrity and became a caricature—of some oafy frat boy, at once endearing and entirely pitiable. And the real actor inside (to say nothing of the person) was rendered all but invisible.

To find out how Affleck first began his acting career, go on to the next page...