Catherine O’Hara Could Do Anything

Catherine O’Hara had a glow about her. Her crackling wit and those Irish features (fire red hair and bold blue eyes) all added up to a comedic force. She held onto her placement as a performer hailing from Canada. But she made her mark in America. Yet another immigrant who did well in the States, imagine it.

From roles in Beetlejuice to Home Alone to the string of Christopher Guest movies, Miss O’Hara always kept you smiling and laughing at her physical comedic chops as well as her brilliant sense for drama. If she could be cast in a part, she grabbed the reins and told everyone else to strap in and hold tight. Her life force may have disappeared but the presence on celluloid will forever hold that uncanny grin and that excellent timing.

As she eulogized John Candy decades ago, she kept it classy and upbeat, almost fun. She wished to exalt her comedy co-star and friend rather than wallow in grief. That’s what made her almost regal in her deportment. With her power on screens big and small she inhabited her characters and celebrated the individualism of each role. Miss O’Hara felt that whatever she had been cast in could be ten times better because of her presence. She didn’t boast about it, she just expressed it in her position as the flustered mother, the aloof mother, or the frantic mother.

Of course she brought to bear these characters, but she did so with gusto. By declaring to the world her special skills of turning a sad, sweet moment from a hilarious bit as in A Mighty Wind where her frequent collaborator Eugene Levy kisses her at the end of the song. The pair would go onto increased fame on the show Schitt’s Creek, opening the door to new generations of viewers.

She left behind a legacy of excellence for alleviating the woes of the world.

In one of her last roles on The Studio the show featured a meditation on what was more powerful, useful, and important. Seth Rogan’s character, a Hollywood head of a production company argues about the need for art and especially the movies. He acknowledges that the medical realm is an extremely crucial field also pointing out that stories on screen in particular fuel the soul.

Miss O’Hara exemplified this notion wholeheartedly. To get some to laugh or think or laugh and think promised fortune and fame that she earned and embodied. Those moments when the experience seemed worthy of tears or a guffaw definitely stamped her pass into the place of humor and pathos.

Once she grabbed onto a role, she dug into the specific character and played it with supreme and superb chops. Instead of just phone it in, she brought to light the woman on screen, whatever her reservations or foibles. Everything she did, she made you think she gave a hundred and ten percent. In actuality, she was probably only giving eighty or ninety percent, but allowed the audience to understand she didn’t have to fly a jet when she could just ride a bike with symmetry and grace. That’s acting.

SO, as Miss O’Hara slips into the folds of permanence, she will always be remembered for her vivacity and commitment to the parts she played. In increasingly fractured times, Miss O’Hara had been a stalwart for pushing her profession beyond the limit of mere “make me laugh” territory. The way she held her gaze, her piercing screech, and those dazzling cerulean eyes painted a picture of true talent and ability. May she be remembered for her charm and her effortless dedication to her craft.