On Paul Walker, 1973-2013

An eerie sort of sadness lingers following the death of Paul Walker.

Of course, the way he died was horrific — crashing into a light pole as a passenger in a red Porsche during what was supposed to have been a quick ride at a charity event. To say that his death in a car accident is ironic, given that he made his name as a star of the “Fast & Furious” franchise, is too easy (and not entirely accurate). It’s just unfortunate. And the fact that he was so young — just 40 — and leaves behind a 15-year-old daughter is heartbreaking.

But I think a lot of the reason people are reacting so viscerally to Walker’s death — myself included — is because there was something vibrant and likable about his presence, both on- and off-screen, as well as something old-fashioned and rare. What he did in all those “Fast & Furious” movies was so difficult, and so easy to dismiss or underestimate. As undercover-cop-turned-con Brian O’Conner, Walker had to serve as the strong, stoic center in the middle of much flashier characters and insane, gravity-defying car chases. Not everyone can be the gruff muscle like Vin Diesel. Not everyone can be the intimidating bad girl like Michelle Rodriguez. Someone has to be sturdy and serious and hold shit together when so much is flying around in the air: That person was Paul Walker.

I haven’t always been a fan of these movies. Part of my review of 2009’s “Fast & Furious,” the weakest film in the franchise, read: “Noise, noise, noise. Crunched metal and shattered glass. More noise. Revving engines. Vin Diesel’s giant head. Hot chicks in tight miniskirts. Even more noise. The end.” But I appreciate the fact that they know what they are supposed to do and that they try to amp up the action each time to thrill their loyal audience.

Walker knew what his purpose was in Hollywood, as well, it seemed. With his blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and just the right amount of facial scruff, he exuded the carefree air and magnetic vitality of the classic California surfer. His striking good looks made him a bona fide movie star in the most traditional sense of the term. Long before the “Fast & Furious” films, it was impossible to stop looking at him in early roles in “Varsity Blues” and “The Skulls.” (Although, if we’re being honest with ourselves, something like “Into the Blue” with Jessica Alba is all about the eye candy.)

But in the vein of Brad Pitt before him and Chris Hemsworth since, Walker seemed interested in providing some unexpected depth to his performances — to offering more than just superficial appeal. Clint Eastwood cast him as part of the impressive ensemble of his World War II drama “Flags of Our Fathers,” for example. There was a heft to his presence that merited more serious consideration alongside his escapist action pictures.

Above all, Walker was decent and intelligent enough to use his fame for the greater good. In 2010, he founded the charity Reach Out Worldwide to help victims of natural disasters; the event where he died Saturday, in Valencia, Calif., was a fundraiser benefiting victims of the recent typhoon in the Philippines. So when people reflecting on Walker’s life comment that he died doing what he loved, maybe they’re right after all. But it wasn’t just racing expensive cars — it was reaching out to help others.