Cynthia Nixon, Alexandra Billings, Paul Rudnik & more in LGBT community pay tribute to Diane Keaton

Cynthia Nixon: When I was a kid, Diane Keaton was my absolute idol. I loved her acting. I loved her vibe. I loved her everything. Starting with when I was 12, I tried to dress like her. I wore my hair long. I sported men’s hats and vests and (even though my eyes were fine) I wore bookish glasses because I thought they made me look more like her. A little more than a decade ago I got to be in a movie called Five Flights Up with her and it was like a dream come true. I was very shy around her, but I think she liked me and that meant everything to me. If you wanna know more about Diane Keaton watch Annie Hall, watch Reds, watch Shoot the Moon. She is extraordinary in them. But also read “Then Again” her stunningly honest autobiography which not only tells her own story but contrasts it fascinatingly with her mother’s life. She was one of a kind. I’m so sad she is gone.

Paul Rudnik: There’s been such a totally justified outpouring of love for Diane Keaton. There’s also been a sense of disbelief: her work was so joyous and her personality was so welcoming that it seems impossible to believe she’s gone. Her legacy spans decades: she starred in movies at every age, as showcased by filmmakers like Woody Allen, Nancy Meyers and Warren Beatty,. She was beloved by both audiences and her co-workers, and managed to become a style icon as well. She did all this with an unassuming wit, rather than overweening ego. It’s no wonder the world adores her.

Alexandra Billings: If you’ve ever seen a falling star or driven through a rain storm in the desert where it pours buckets in one moment, and then only the sound of the wind in the next. If you have ever tripped down an icy set of stairs and then at the very bottom, Laughed like it cost you your life, you know partly what it was like to experience the work of this woman. It is not simple unpredictability. It is not wackiness. It is not easily explained by phrases like: “unbridled joy” or “working outside the box.” Diane Keaton took a manic, irrepressible practicum that demands great discipline and responsibility, physically emotionally and spiritually, and turned it on its head, while simultaneously demanding we all look in the mirror making ridiculous faces. She lived on the edge of surprise. She didn’t demand attention. She didn’t need to. And she wasn’t simply a storyteller. She was a portal in which stories moved through her. She was a delightful artist; open and available. She was a damn hard worker. “Ease” is not easy.
Jack Nicholson once remarked how shocked he was that Diane knew not only her lines and his lines, but every bit of everyone else’s lines. She devoured a script. There was a sensory radiance about Keaton‘s work. And as complex as it could be, it never felt weighed down. Heavy. Laborious. It never felt as if she was trying to Do anything and when the time came for the bomb to drop, it was devastating.
“Looking for Mr. Goodbar” is one of the most disturbing films of the 70s, and only because Keaton gutted herself like a fish and pleaded with us all to take our time examining what was left. Like a sparkling satellite headed towards earth, plummeting faster than record time and landing in the softest place cradled and joyful; she was an anomolie. I met her for five and a half seconds at a fancy affair years ago. She said five words to me, took my hand and looked at me with those shocking blue eyes and told me to keep going. “Keep going.” she said smiling. She was one of the funniest humans on film.
Fly Free, Angel.
You changed the trajectory of story telling, without letting anyone in on what your plan was to begin with.
Including You.

Rosie O’Donnell: oh this breaks my heart – love to her children- what style what grace – she will be missed.

Dan Bucatinsky: There are no words to describe the gift Diane Keaton was … let’s remember her and her work and may that memory be a blessing and inspiration to all. RIP

Marc Shaiman: I know it’s a terrible trait of the modern world for folks (like me) to post about their association with someone who has just passed away, somehow seeming to make it about themselves. That is not my intention here, but here I go. I got to work and have a great time with Diane Keaton on a number of occasions, playing for her at benefits, at Marty Short’s Xmas parties, on the lesser known film “And So It Goes” and, certainly most notably, on “The First Wives Club”. She was a true original. Absolutely unique. I am very saddened by the far too soon loss of this irreplaceable light. If you respond, may I respectfully ask you skip “sorry for you loss” or “may her memory be a blessing”. Instead, might I suggest you simply make note of a great Diane Keaton moment you cherish, or talk about your friendship with someone who is like no other.