Larry Hagman, a comic actor even in villainy, will always be Dallas — the show ... - Dallas Morning News (blog)

Larry Hagman at Southfork Ranch in 2008 (Tony Gutierrez/Associated Press)

All night long, and well into the day, BBC TV and radio has been calling to talk about the death of Larry Hagman, who was as beloved in England as he was in his homeland (Dallas and Fort Worth, I mean). The anchors, at least one of whom sounded profoundly shaken by the news of the 81-year-old's passing, asked variations on the same questions — about his impact and stature and significance to our city, about what made him a great actor, about what made him a better man. In all, deep stuff for a man who started his career on a daytime soap (Edge of Night in 1961), spent five years living with a genie in a bottle and went on to spend more than three decades best known as a bedding, boozing son-of-a-gun who convinced a planet we all wore cowboys hats to business meetings.

Cameraman Sam Rosen and director Gero Nelson guide Hagman as he emerges from a mockup of the Apollo space vehicle on the set I Dream of Jeannie in this AP file photo.

At this late date, of course, there is no need to analyze the appeal of J.R. Ewing; books have been written celebrating his treachery and his role in bringing an end to the Cold War and showing impoverished nations that greed was good long before Gordon Gecko applied his first dollop of hair gel. ("In Turkey," said a 1980 Time article, "the head of the Muslim fundamentalist National Salvation Party presented a 16-page ultimatum that included 'the elimination of Dallas from television programs' because it is 'degrading and aims at destroying Turkish family life.'") And his impact on the city is incalculable; Mayor Mike Rawlings might consider petitioning the city council to put his face on the city flag.

As Major Tony Nelson on I Dream of Jeannie, Hagman delivered a performance lighter than air; he was Dick Van Dyke in a spaceman's uniform, one more block of ice melted by a hot woman. Few actors ever did more with the role of straight man bent out of shape.

After that, the parts were plentiful, but usually as guest shots on middling TV series that didn't know what to make of Hagman or how to use him; there's a reason you don't recall his stints on The Good Life or Here We Go Again, two 1970s offerings that lasted as long as it took you to read this sentence. Producers drowned him in mush.

As J.R., a role intended to last but a few weeks, he regained his footing — and, as history will bear, remained very much a comic actor, turning up the villainy to 11. Even at this late date he remained the most engaging character on television, the sole reason to tune into TNT's update, whose future is now in question with J.R. gone to the ranch. He delivered every putdown like a punch line and became the most affable badman in any medium's history. He had a glint in his eyebrows.

Dallas will miss him profoundly — the series and the city. Since the show's return, Hagman had become as much a fixture as potholes and overrated taquerias. When he wasn't on set, he was at the Omni or at some Dallas International Film Festival event or speaking at some charity function or working with kids aspiring to be filmmakers and photographers. Hagman the man was the antithesis of the character who made him immortal: He adored other people, and loved loaning them a bit of the warm glow that radiates from true, bright stars. Mayor Rawlings, perhaps, said it best Friday night: As J.R., Hagman was larger than life, but as a human he championed the little feller.

Throughout Friday night and into Saturday morning, those who knew Hagman sent their deepest regrets and warmest regards. Said Linda Gray, his on-screen wife betrayed more often than Caesar, Hagman "was the Pied Piper of life and brought joy to everyone he knew." Or met. Or entertained. Never was ever a villain more beloved.