A Gentle Giant Remembered: My Time with Michael Madsen on Resurrection Road

There are moments on set that stay with you forever not because of the lights, the camera, or even the script but because of the people. And for me, one of those unforgettable people was Michael Madsen.

Working on Resurrection Road gifted me something I never saw coming: a deep, soulful experience with a man whose presence could both fill a room and quiet your spirit and rile it up at the same time.

Michael and I would walk to the set hand in hand, laughing like kids who shared a secret. His voice, gravelly and unmistakable, carried effortlessly, and his laugh came from deep within, like thunder rolling through the sky. It was the kind of laugh that made you feel seen, like he had pulled you into his world for a moment and was glad you were there.

We sat and talked about life, his beloved wife and children, and the memory of his father. One day, I gave him a word God had placed on my heart just for him. I didn’t know what it would

Michael Madsen and L. J. Hill on the set of Resurrection Road

mean, but he did. He became emotional, looked at me with something unspoken in his eyes, and told me, “You have a gift, you would have never known that.” From that moment, our bond was sealed.

The makeup trailer became our sanctuary. He, Taylor, and I had some of the deepest conversations there about life, loss, dreams, pain, and joy. He called us his “girls,” and we became his quiet support system on set. When someone warned us, “He might be a diva,” Taylor quickly replied, “He hasn’t met us yet we’re even bigger divas too.” From the second he sat in the chair, we just clicked.

I teased him once about sunscreen, and he barked back with that iconic voice, “It’s too late,” then broke into laughter. It was moments like that, light-hearted, raw, and real, that I hold closest.

Taylor and I were among a few who called him Michael. When he'd talk during takes and the crew would shoot us looks, I’d whisper, “Michael, shhh.” He’d grin mischievously and say, “We can talk if we want to.” I’d laugh back, “You can talk, but if you keep talking to me, I’m going to get in trouble.” And he said, “Okay, lil one.”

Michael Madsen was a beautiful contradiction of grit and grace, wild spirit and deep heart. A gentle giant in every sense. He will be missed beyond words.

Michael, may you now rest in peace, greeted by the son you loved and the father you spoke of so tenderly. You were the life of the party. Thank you for letting us in, for trusting us with your heart, and for reminding us that even the biggest personalities can carry the deepest tenderness.

You are missed. You are loved. You are remembered.

With all my heart,LJ