Features Editor, Opinion Columnist
About a month ago, I was driving to school when I heard on the radio that esteemed actor Philip Seymour Hoffman, 46, had died of a heroin overdose. I honestly thought I had either heard this wrong or that it was some sort of sick joke. How could this amazing actor, who has starred in many of my favorite films, suddenly be dead?
Amongst the rest of the public, my reaction was common. Hoffman’s death was a shock not only to the Hollywood community, but everyone in the world who enjoyed his movies and appreciated his versatility and charisma as an actor. From appearing in comedies like “The Big Lebowski” and “Along Came Polly” to his more profound starring roles in “Capote” and “Doubt,” Hoffman was a mastermind at establishing a unique connection with his audience.
Since then Harold Ramis, best known for co-writing and acting in “Ghostbusters,” has passed away at age 69 due to complications from an autoimmune disease. Before Hoffman there was “Fast & Furious” actor Paul Walker, who died at age 40 in a car crash last November.
All of these deaths seem to have generated similar public devastation and therefore raise the question: Why do we mourn celebrity deaths the way we do?
As a whole, we tend to grieve for celebrities as if we were a part of their family or they were a significant part of ours. And in the case of well-liked figures, the greater their popularity and positive impact on the public, the less the nature of their death becomes an issue, especially if the cause is controversial.
Hoffman died of a heroin overdose. Although he had been sober since he was 22, the actor relapsed and began using again not long before his death. Police, within hours of discovering his body, were on the search for those who were accountable for the drugs and, subsequently, Hoffman’s death.
The person responsible for Hoffman’s death, however, is none other than Hoffman himself. Yet, it can be assumed that because of his celebrity stature, law enforcement found it worth dedicating their time to finding others to blame.
“Celebrity deaths aren’t more important; mourning them is a form of mass cathartic grief for the unheralded lives that also ended too soon,” Kevin Kelton said in an article for Examiner.com.
While I agree with Kelton’s statement, I don’t believe that mourning celebrities for any purpose should serve as a basis for why we spend more time looking for answers or less time acknowledging that these people had real, often terrible personal weaknesses.
Kelton is right—celebrity deaths are not more important. People die from heroin overdoses every day. When “Glee” actor Cory Monteith died from “a mixed drug toxicity consisting of heroin and alcohol,” people mourned with sadness and regret for the troubled actor, without recognizing that he was seriously addicted to multiple drugs and probably not the best role model for the thousands of young viewers who watch his show.
Though “Glee” fans may not see it the same way, I am not trying to denigrate the life of these celebrities who, through their talent, have had a true impact on people’s lives. Glorifying public figures after their untimely demise, however, only highlights that we place less significance on the countless others who deserve no less to be overlooked simply because they’re “normal.” While it may be understandable for people to feel sadness in the event of a celebrity’s death, there is no reason these deaths should be treated any differently than they would for everyone else.
arildefonso@mavs.coloradomesa.edu
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