An Illusion Died With Him

I can't stop thinking about Heath Ledger. Ever since I heard the news about his death on Tuesday afternoon, I've been sort of obsessed with learning as much about his final hours and the days and months that led up to it.  And while I gather details, like the 3 calls his massuese placed to Mary Kate Olsen before calling 9-11, and the insomnia and anxiety Heath had been suffering in recent months, I'm trying to figure out exactly why I care so much. I didn't know him, of course, and I wasn't really obsessed with him before Tuesday. And plenty of people have died in much more tragic and horrific ways this week alone and I'm not scouring the Internet for information on them. So what is it about Heath Ledger that's shaken me up so much?

"Celebrities sort of connect us to each other," Drew said over dinner last night as I pondered the root of my latest obsession.

"I guess you're right," I said, nodding, "I mean, they're the people we measure degrees of separation from."

"Right," Drew replied.

When I was a kid I used to fantasize, as I'm sure lots of kids did, of growing up to be rich and famous. I'd be on the cover of my mother's latest People Magazine. I'd be a movie star. I'd live in a mansion. I'd wear fabulous clothes and travel the world and sit at the best tables in restaurants and my life would be perfect. Even now, grown up and with a better perspective on celebrity life, I can't help feeling envious from time to time of what often seems like the Good Life--the one I'll never live. And yet, I know the life of a celebrity must be sort of terrible and soul-crushing a lot of the time. I get that being famous doesn't eliminate problems--it just exchanges them for other ones...often even bigger ones. I know I'd hate living in the kind of fish bowl celebrities swim in. I'd hate the constant attention, and crticism and endless speculation over the state of my personal life and mental well-being and whether I'm pregnant or just ate too many hamburgers this week. I'd hate it.

But some celebrities seem to handle it pretty well--they manage to live fairly under the radar, enjoying the comfort and luxury their big salaries afford them while keeping out of the glare of the spotlight and the pages of the tabloids. They seem to genuinely enjoy their work, they choose roles that stretch and challenge them, they embody Hollywood Glamour on every red carpet, and their personal lives, if not perfect, at least resemble something like the happiness and balance most of us yearn for.

Heath Ledger--at least while he was with Michelle Williams--was one of those celebrities for me. Together he and Michelle represented the kind of famous couple I'd want to be part of if I'd followed my childhood fantasy of becoming a star. Low-key and unassuming, with an adorable little girl, they were the picture of domestic bliss in their 4-story townhouse in a quiet Brooklyn neighborhood. And with their youthful glow, dorky hipster sunglasses, and unstyled hair, they looked like people I might easily be friends with.

So when I'd heard they'd broken up several months ago, I was sort of sad about it. If they couldn't make it work with everything they had going for them--skyrocketing careers, gorgeous looks, amazing talent, lots of money--how was I going to? And so I held out hope they'd reunite--that a few months apart would indeed make their hearts grow fonder and they'd discover that no one else quite held the allure they had for each other. Heath would move back into their Brooklyn home, they'd be spotted walking little Matilda around the neighborhood in those silly Raybans they always wore, Michelle's hair would slowly grow out...and all would be right again.

But now they'll never get back together. Heath is dead and his daughter will never know her father and Michelle will be thrust right into the deep middle of the fish bowl she and Heath always tried to stay in the shallow ends of.

And as I learn more about the person Heath was and the issues that plagued him--his anxiety and insomnia, for example, my illusion of his perfect life is shattered. I have anxiety and insomnia. I've had weeks go by where I only sleep 2 hours each night. I hate interviews and talking about myself to strangers and aswering questions that betray my self-confidence. And I guess I'm reminded as I struggle through a particularly challenging time right now, how good it is to be anonymous, to be a nobody, to not get the best table in the restaurant. It means I get to struggle in private, make my mistakes in private, fall apart and get back together again without the lens of a thousand cameras capturing my every move. I guess it's not such a bad thing being just ordinary after all.

Comments

[Nick]

I'm sure you'd hate being famous, Wendy - the 24/7 attention, the paparazzi, the hangers-on, the begging letters, the endless ill-informed gossip, the endless comments on your cellulite, your possible boob job, your dress sense etc. And as you say HL had his problems all right - insomnia, anxiety, a broken relationship. They may have loads of moeny but at what a price. Give me a modest income and privacy any day.

[Tilly]

SO flipping well written. And so, so true.

[Lisa Raphael]

I was beginning to feel bad about my obsession with the Heath Ledger stories since his death. Glad to know I'm not the only 1. Here's how I justify it- He was a part of our generation, someone we thought we would see for many years on the big screen. Also, he was also a very likable celebrity. Him and Michelle Williams seemed like a couple you would want to meet and befriend. It's so sad....

[Matt]

Bravo. I've been bothered by it myself. Drew's right, those on-screen personas connect us; they stake out a place in our conscience through the powerful medium of film, and it hurts when they depart. It seemed like Heath was inclined to choose interesting roles, most notably Brokeback Mountain, and that probably said something about him too. I agree with your thoughts about privacy and anonymity, and about the stresses and artificiality of job interviews. There's a reason thoughtful people tend to be reserved, even though it seems hard sometimes in the high energy, low-bandwidth, workaday world; but things tend to work out reasonably well for us, at least in the long run. And in the end, you've just got to be you, and be happy with that...

[kapgar]

I've been thinking a lot about Ledger too. I wasn't going to post about him, but I finally relented and did it this morning. I had to. I really appreciated him as an actor and saw some strong parenting qualities in him, too, which you can't help but respect.

[Nick]

Wendy, I've just read a piece in the Irish Times (sorry, no link, it's subscription only) that says Ledger was quite traumatised by the constant and vicious media intrusion into his life. They tried to provoke him into anger, they alleged he spat at them, they put his house under seige and they followed him everywhere. He, Michelle and Matilda had to leave their new house in Bronte, NSW, after 10 days and move to America to escape the media.

[teahouseblossom]

I understand how you feel. I just posted about H.L. as well. It's so incredibly sad!! And because he was a really good actor, and we all knew that more brilliant things were going to come from him in the future.

And when someone young dies suddenly like that, everyone is affected. I am very sad, too, for his little girl who will never know her father.

[Rachel]

Wendy, I think this is the best way I've seen it explained in any of the media coverage that I'm trying to cut myself off of.

[Elizabeth]

Oh I'm glad I'm not the only one. I enjoyed the movies Heath Ledger was in, and I liked the fact that he didn't pick typical roles. But the shock and sadness I felt over his death surprised me. I like your take on it.

[Natalee]

Thanks for putting this into the perfect perspective for me. I too, was wondering why I was so obsessed with his death. It went so far, I actually had a dream that I *was* Michelle, and felt the overwhelming sense of her grief. It was as if I had lost my husband. I felt stupid and odd for even having the dream (not that I could control it), but I definitely felt a stronger sense of empathy towards her, Matilda, and Heath's family afterwards.