It has been nearly a year and a half now since Heath Ledger died, and I still find myself upset when I think about it. This occurred to me again today as I read a nice Ben Brantley piece in the New York Times about star actors who are currently tearing up the London stage -- Helen Mirren in Racine's Phedre, Gillian Anderson in Ibsen's A Doll's House, Jude Law in Hamlet, Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen in Beckett's Waiting for Godot. I thought of what pleasures all those great performers have given me over the years, and what pleasures Ledger -- or River Phoenix -- can't give me going forward. It makes me sad.
It is easy to be cynical about celebrity, so I really feel the need to say this: I believe in star power. I don't believe it is everything, and I champion many artists who will never in that sense be "stars" -- but I certainly believe that the power exists, and is usually a better rather than a worse force. It enriches our lives.
But with it come perils, for those so gifted. And those perils have gotten much worse in our era of celebrity, because modern celebrity, although often an inevitable corollary of artistic power, is also its enemy. I heard an interesting segment on fame recently on NPR's Talk of the Nation, prompted by the sudden trajectory of Britain's Got Talent contestant and YouTube sensation Susan Boyle. Henry Winkler was one of the guests, and he said very wisely that the one thing you cannot afford to do when suddenly famous is to believe your own press. You've got to keep a humble head on you, no matter how great the fame or how large your gift.
But for every Winkler or Meryl Streep who handles their fame well, who sets boundaries, there are many young, gifted hotshots who don't, sometimes because they haven't been instructed how to. On the basis of history, you have to worry for them. So what I would like them to know is that, all cynicism aside, all the celebrity shit aside, what you do matters. It brings joy to many and lightens the burdens of many. Please take care of yourselves.
UPDATE (6/25/2009): Since the above post had largely been mentally formed months ago, I simply do not know what to make of my timing in actually writing and posting it yesterday. One day before Michael Jackson's death -- too weird.
My mother was a bit of an occultist and believed that there were "vibrations" throughout the universe, an opinion that some physicists would agree with at a very different level. Who am I to say that she was wrong? I can't. I seem to feel those vibrations sometimes -- probably most do -- and perhaps this is a small instance of that uncanniness.
Breakfast is being served
3 years ago
