The actor -- a real Philly boy -- still had the accent in him when he was asked to play the role, but it hardly came through in his lines. Considering the story was basically just an extended love letter to Philly’s suburbs and the Eagles-obsessed fans who live there, Bradley’s light-touch accent wasn’t convincing enough for me. Where were his roots?
I ranted quite a bit after seeing Playbook, and ranted even more at the end of American Hustle (in which he basically did it again). I missed the Philly accent terribly, and felt as though Cooper had robbed me of the rush of intoxicating endorphins it provokes when done right.
Wit-out a properly performed version of the accent on TV every naow and then, I feared I’d forget its beauty forever. I may have forfeited my own Philly accent, but it’s occasional and limited appearances in pop culture keep me close to home -- that one thread that we all need to tie us to where we came from.
I was in Bed-Stuy when I learned that Nick Kroll could perform a perfect Philly accent, but the dirty intonations of “haume” and “g’head” transported me back to PA, fresh out of a Wawa, driving down the Schuylkill. I felt the same deep pride and delight when Mark Wahlberg chanted “Go Eagles” in front of the pope, and Wahlberg isn’t even from Philly. I feel it anytime even a few syllables of the grimy accent pass through Chris Christie’s lips. I would do anything to catch post-game interviews with rabid South Philly Eagles fans, their tipsy slurring adding a certain something to the boisterous “Go Iggles” chants.