Author: Kelly Neukom
I grew up with Heath Ledger. OK, so not literally-but it certainly felt like I did.
He entered my life with the movie 10 Things I Hate About You in 1999. One of my best friends in middle school, Katrina, immediately elevated him to her ultimate celebrity crush and forced me to watch the film at least 10 times over the course of the year. When The Patriot came out, I watched it with her twice in a row-an entire five-and-a-half hours spent on the couch.
Katrina transferred schools after eighth grade, and our meet-ups became less frequent. One outing we were sure not to miss, however, was the opening of A Knight’s Tale in 2001.
So when I found out Ledger had died on January 22, it hit me hard. I felt like someone I actually knew had died. I spent most of the night researching it and reading news stories that said the same things over and over again, hoping to glean some new insight into the tragedy. It was my personal form of therapy-at least, it felt personal until I saw others’ reactions.
All of a sudden, there were dozens of comments on his videos on youtube and movies on IMDB, hundreds of memorial facebook groups -even a website dedicated just to inform fans how he had died (www.heathledgerdied.info). I couldn’t believe how many people took his death as personally as I did.
But this made me wonder: why were so many people our age affected by his death? After all, he was just an actor. An incredibly talented actor, yes, but, an actor nonetheless.
True, he was young. We tend to think that only grandparents, great-aunts, and pet goldfish die-not perfectly healthy 20-somethings. We’re still victims of that immortal feeling that young adults tend to entertain, and it is shocking to see a member of our generation run out of time so suddenly.
But it isn’t simply Ledger’s age that sent shock waves through our ranks. What I felt about him was true for many other people my age: that we had grown up with him. 10 Things came out in 1999, when most of us were just starting to feel our first pangs of hormonal longing. A 6’1″, tan bad boy with an Australian accent and more dimples than Shirley Temple certainly didn’t escape our notice. (In fact, the scene where he crooned “Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You” to Julia Stiles set the bar for many a teenage girl’s fantasy man.)
He then shunned countless other offers to star in teen romances and instead took on historical films that were (or at least tried to be) deeper. His next big hit, A Knight’s Tale, was a tongue-in-cheek take on Chaucer’s classic tale that perfectly matched our then newfound teenage cynicism.
In 2005, he starred in Brokeback Mountain, a movie that opened up an entirely new genre-the gay romance. Although not everyone agreed with the relationship portrayed on screen, no one could deny that the film was revolutionary. It mirrored a shift in society towards acceptance of homosexuality.
This year, everyone I knew was stoked about The Dark Knight. It seemed as if many guys I knew had written Ledger off after Brokeback Mountain because they were squeamish about the homosexual love affair, but this brought him back onto their radar. The Dark Knight speaks to us this election year as we try to figure out whom to blame for what is going wrong with our country. It is nice to be able to look at Ledger’s truly creepy portrayal of such a famous villain, the Joker, and be able to hate him completely. Even if life doesn’t always have such clear-cut baddies, it’s good to know they’re still alive in superhero movies.
It is amazing that such a young actor showed such incredible depth and range when actors usually get one or the other (if they’re lucky). The fact that his life ended at the pinnacle of his career is heartbreaking. I don’t think baby boomers understand how much Ledger’s death has affected us. Most of them will probably use it as an excuse to bring up clichés we’ve heard a million times before: “Drugs are bad.” “If you’re feeling depressed, get help.” “Only the good die young” (as if that brings us any consolation).
Because of this lack of understanding on their part, we have already tried to explain our feelings about him through those “of our generation” statements. “He was the James Dean of our generation.” “He was the River Phoenix of our generation.” But I refuse to fall back on those comparisons. I’m just going to say, “He’s the Heath Ledger of our generation.” Isn’t that statement tragic enough?
Kelly Neukom is a senior ECLS major. She can be reached at kneukom@oxy.edu.
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