“Do you know what happens to an eyeball when it is punctured?” asks Rutger Hauer in The Hitcher (1985), sliding a switchblade up to The Kid’s eye, catching a tear on the glistening blade and watching it twinkle in the passing highway lights. This was not in the script and co-star C. Thomas Howell may have had to contemplate the fact that this bear-like Dutch actor might actually show him.

After all, with his manic intensity, reliance on gut instinct and bloody-minded commitment to character Hauer had become one of Hollywood’s favourite psychos. Roles in Blade Runner (1982) and Flesh and Blood (1985) had cemented his reputation as an unhinged cinematic killer – “a one-man slaughterhouse,” as one critic labelled him.

In the 1980s Hauer seemed fearless. Onscreen he was intense and regularly insisted on fucking with his audience (and co-stars) expectations. He claims he put the blade to Howell’s eye because it, “felt right,” and in 1982s Blade Runner eagerly kissed Joe Turkel on the mouth to give the scene between replicant and creator a more ambiguous danger:

“I like to touch males. It makes it more personal. And scarier.”

Hauer has a potent sexuality, penetrative blue eyes and a knowing smirk that creeps out of the corner of his mouth. It suggests that there is nothing he hasn’t already seen, or done. He was born in Breukelen, Holland in 1944 – during the Nazi occupation – and in his adult life he’s been a carpenter, a welder and a poet. For a time he was in the Dutch Navy but he hated the experience and faked insanity to get out. As a result he spent time on a psychiatric ward.

“I guess you could say that was my first acting role,” he later commented.

His acting career began (officially) by studying drama in Amsterdam and he soon worked his way to becoming one of the countries most interesting leading men. In the 1970s he worked frequently with Paul ‘Show Girls’ Verhoeven a move that bought them both international attentions. Together they made the erotic Oscar nominated drama Turkish Delight (1973) and later the epic war movie Soldier of Orange (1977) where he played a rousing WWII hero.

He made his US debut in the Sylvester Stallone vehicle Nighthawks (1981) and was later signed up for Ridley Scott’s polluted cyber-noir masterpiece Blade Runner. Based on a novel by Philip K. Dick, the film envisions a future where androids (replicants) have outlived there usefulness and been declared illegal on Earth. As the synthetic Roy Batty, Hauer slides effortlessly through this neon lit hell – hunting his creator, ready to spit in God’s face. And he is lethal and perverse, bleached blond and androgynous – a punk rock Ken doll gone berserk.

His glassy European coldness and perfect plastic body epitomised artificial humanity, but he would somehow become the films emotional core, his performance giving way to moments of stark vulnerability. On his character’s death the original script called for Batty to recount an epic dying monologue, but Hauer himself cut it down to just 27 words. The result is an iconic moment in cinema history;

“I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tanhauser Gate. All these moments will be lost in time like tears in rain. Time to Die.”

The last fifteen words were Hauer’s own adlib.

Despite these moments of beauty Hauer would struggle to shake this bad guy persona. But he did his best to try. He was the all-American (?) hero in Sam Peckinpah’s final film The Osterman Weekend (1983) and starred in 1985s underrated fantasy Ladyhawk a film that sees two lovers (Hauer and Michelle Pfeiffer) separated by a magical curse. Hauer, perhaps unsurprisingly, spends his nights as a wolf.

Director Richard Donner had typically eyed the Dutchman up for the villain, but the actor refused, holding out instead for the heroic lead. It was a good fit. Navarre is a dark and troubled anti-hero, a black-clad knight out for bitter revenge against the satanic Bishop who cast the spell. Hauer makes for a convincing, if tormented, romantic lead, his passion burning behind those fiery blue eyes.

“Wouldn’t it be nice,” he tells comedy sidekick Phillipe. “If I could call her by name and pretend we met before.”

Blind Fury (1989) was a fun action comedy based on the Japanese Zatochi series. Here he was Nick Parker, a man blinded in Vietnam but rescued by local villagers and taught to become a master swordsman using his other senses (with a samurai sword concealed in his wooden cane). Hauer relished the lightness of the role, speaking softly and when not fighting goofily tripping over bags and prat-falling in the street. He has a tender bond with the boy he’s protecting and teaches him to be a man. Yet critics and audiences struggled to accept Hauer as anything less than the personification of evil. And so back he would go – back to madness.

In The Hitcher the part of the psychotic John Ryder was more brutal than anything he’d done before. The film sees a kid being drawn into a deadly cat-and-mouse game with a deranged hitchhiker. It is filled with sticky violence as Ryder slices cops’ throats and drenches the Arizona deserts with blood. Raising the film above the average slick ‘n’ dice is Hauer’s portrayal of Ryder as a man sickened by his own monstrousness.

“What do you want?” asks the terrified Kid. “I want you to stop me,” he replies. Looking into those manic blue eyes, you believe him.

In the 90s Hauer settled into becoming a dependable working character actor, appearing in TV, television movies and supporting parts – including roles in Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992) and Surviving the Game (1994). In recent years Hauer has been picked up for more bad guy roles in high profile movies. He showed a human greed in Christopher Nolan’s Batman Begins (2005) and was the perverse and cannibalistic Cardinal Roark in the technically stunning Sin City (2005).

And he continues to work eagerly. In the last 10 years he has appeared in almost 50 films and even managed to direct two. Soon we will see him in the Grindhouse spin-off Hobo with a Shotgun, a film that seeks to reminded us just how unhinged he can be. He’s lost none of his mischievous audacity and it’s good to know that no matter how predictable mainstream cinema gets, there’s still a demented Dutchman out there ready to fuck with our expectations.

Tom Fallows’ Cult Actors series has returned and will run every Monday!

You can find his first two entries below;

Cult Actors #1: Brad Dourif – The Devil’s Minion

Cult Actors #2: Adrienne Barbeau – Snake Charmer

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