So the MUBI guys are doing a Tony Scott celebration, and while reading their copy I was once again reminded that no journalist seems to care why this sharp guy with a red baseball cap, this creative go-getter, this dynamic turbine of a director killed himself last August. Nobody is asking any questions, at least, and it just seems odd.
When a guy who lived in front of a worldwide crowd reaches up and turns out the light, I think it’s fair after a decent interval to (a) ask what really happened, and (b) to expect a candid answer. Life is constantly about experience and facts and questions and learning, and I want to know, dammit, what the hell led him to that bridge. It happened four months ago, and I think enough time has elapsed for Scott’s widow or brother Ridley or someone in the family to just man up and tell it straight. I didn’t know Tony Scott personally, but I talked with him three or four times and I felt as if I did know who he was through his films. We all felt that to differing degrees. And it doesn’t feel right for this this issue to just sit there like a blank sheet of paper.