During the timeworn bit of the Oscars ceremony that remembers the stars who have been extinguished this year, Lost in Showbiz really hopes Philip Seymour Hoffman doesn't get the last shot. Instead, let the RIP montage conclude with a lingering image of Mr Alec Baldwin, who left us this week.

To clarify: the Cat in the Hat legend didn't check out to the great red carpet in the sky, but instead penned an essay in New York magazine announcing that he was leaving public life. I'm not sure what the technical term for this important elective act is: fame-suicide, perhaps, or star-a-kiri.

Naturally, it is axiomatic that any celebrity who leaves us is regarded as having been taken from us too soon – yet to read Mr Baldwin's 5,000-word opus is to be reminded that he is quite exceptional in this regard. If anything, he has lingered much too long.

The essay, headlined Goodbye, Public Life, focuses much on the accusations of homophobia that have dogged Baldwin in recent times, owing to his habit of calling the admittedly odious paparazzi who harass him "toxic little queens" and whatnot. Whether an attempt to absolve himself which blithely deploys terms like "an F-to-M tranny", "awash in gay people" and "Gay Department of Justice" can be judged an unqualified success is a matter of opinion. But for Lost in Showbiz, all is forgiven when you read the following: "Warren Beatty, who is mystifyingly intelligent and wise," explains Alec, "said to me: your problem is a very basic one, and it's very common to actors. And that's when we step in front of a camera, we feel the need to make it into a moment. This instinct, even unconsciously, is to make the exchange in front of the camera a dramatic one."

Aha! Now I see. Every time Alec reaches for the worst insult he can find, and appears to alight automatically on faggot or queen or whatever, he is not revealing a subconscious distaste for gay people. He is creating some sort of luminous cinematic moment. He is giving us His Craft.

And now it's over, and God knows it's like the lights have gone out. In time, no doubt, we'll gather the strength to be able to celebrate what we had, and acknowledge how lucky we were to live in a time of such dazzling, impromptu moment-making. But for now, there is just the pain. And the terrible, terrible darkness.

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