The way people feel about Bob Odenkirk is in direct opposition to the number of dirtbags, hucksters, and loudmouths he has brought to life. We hate those kinds of guys, and yet we love the comedian turned character actor turned leading man—as evidenced by the fact that no one can get any work done today because we’re constantly refreshing news sites and social media for word on how he’s doing.
The 58-year-old reportedly collapsed on the New Mexico set of Better Call Saul yesterday and has been hospitalized, with no word about his condition. His representatives tell Vanity Fair they have no updates to share at this time. His loved ones, of course, have no obligation to inform the general public about his medical status, but what’s remarkable in this era of scorching hot takes and relentless all-consuming cynicism is the way concern for the actor has resulted in a rare moment of social media unity.
“I really need someone to tell me Bob Odenkirk is okay right now,” reads a typical post on Twitter. “Big prayers for national treasure Bob Odenkirk,” states another. They're in many different languages, and come from many different parts of the world, accompanied by thousands of likes and retweets. Most are from strangers, but some are posts from fellow actors: “Oh man, really hope Bob Odenkirk is ok,” tweeted Elijah Wood. One popular post was just a circle of protection with candle emojis:
It’s fair to say that Odenkirk was always generally liked and respected, but he has never been a trending topic or an object of such sumptuous admiration and attention before. So what’s behind this avalanche of goodwill, especially on a platform like Twitter, with its increasingly well-earned reputation for pile-ons, shaming, bullying, and the overall daily discord known as “the discourse”? This repository of scorn and endless dunking became like a hushed waiting room.
A big part of it has to be the sheer uncertainty of the situation. We’re used to instant information, and not knowing his status has created a mystery that compels outsized attention. That makes us dwell on Odenkirk for a moment before scrolling on to the next thing, the next outrage, the next thrill, the next joke or tragedy. It stops us. It holds us in place, if only for a moment. The churn of Twitter’s gears come to a halt. We have a moment to linger and think.
Odenkirk has been part of the fabric of our entertainment for so long that we’ve taken him for granted. He was a writer on SNL, and The Ben Stiller Show, and Late Night with Conan O’Brien. He was in Alexander Payne’s Nebraska, and Steven Spielberg’s The Post, and Greta Gerwig’s Little Women. They were small but scene-stealing roles—the overbearing, successful brother; the crusading journalist Ben Bagdikian; the girls’ minister father, sent to war. His illness makes us remember: oh yeah, he was great in that.
Then there are his bigger roles, the ones that made him a household name. He made us both laugh and squirm performing alongside David Cross on the classic sketch series Mr. Show. He repeatedly shocked us as Bryan Cranston’s gleefully sleazy attorney Saul Goodman on Breaking Bad. He moved us on Better Call Saul as Jimmy McGill, the sweet, mistreated man Saul Goodman was before the cruelty and indifference of the world broke him forever. Odenkirk is both the comedy and the tragedy masks, fused into one guy.
Odenkirk has played a lot of bastards, but he has never come across as one in real life. He has no scandals. No incidents of lashing out or behaving badly. He has never seemed entitled or aloof. There are stories percolating online of pleasant fan encounters, and recollections of a gentle, good-natured guy who has achieved great things as a performer while still seeming like a regular person.
That was the appeal of his recent action flick Nobody, in which Odenkirk starred as an extremely mild-mannered working-class dad whose seemingly pathetic exterior is cover for the fact that he was once a merciless special-ops assassin. What better metaphor for Odenkirk himself: the guy who somehow fades into the wallpaper despite being an incredible badass.
The truth is, the Better Call Saul actor hasn’t been at the forefront of out minds. Then he got sick. Then we didn’t know if he was okay.
And we realized we never appreciated him enough.
Those who know Odenkirk in real life have reached out to offer some reassurance and information, like Cranston, who posted a photo of the two of them with the message: “Today I woke up to news that has made me anxious all morning. My friend Bob Odenkirk collapsed last night on the set of Better Call Saul. He is in the hospital in Albuquerque and receiving the medical attention he needs but his condition is not known to the public as yet. Please take a moment in your day today to think about him and send positive thoughts and prayers his way, thank you.”
Cross also tweeted his concern in a message aimed at sending goodwill to his Mr. Show co-star while offering some comfort to Odenkirk’s many worried admirers.
It’s important to note that Odenkirk is not in the past tense. Talking about the ways he has moved us or connected with us before does not mean he will not be able to do those things again. With luck, all the goodwill, prayers, and healing wishes will be answered, and an actor who has earned so much affection will be on the mend soon.
Until then, this stalled moment, this unifying alarm and disquiet, is a reminder to appreciate what we have when we have it. If someone brings you joy, remember to let them know, whether they’re an actor onscreen or just a regular person from your life.
Odenkirk’s true appeal is how familiar and relatable he seems. He reminds us of a favorite science teacher, a beloved uncle, the neighbor who always has the tool you need to borrow, the classmate you haven’t seen in too long a time. He has definitely played a lot of bad guys, but there is always something humane in his performances that remind us of good people we know.
That’s how we end up with get-well wishes for the “nobody,” from everybody.
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