Tuesday, January 22, 2008

On mourning.

So, as you've probably heard/read, Heath Ledger kicked the bucket.

I've never seen any films in which he's acted, although I realize he was in Brokeback Mountain. (Apparently the cowboy-on-cowboy love scenes can really cause some stirrings "south of the equator" for some of the ladies. I know that for one in particular, who is sure to read this, the aforementioned fact is exceptionally true.) He was in a few things on Australian TV, but aside from that, we're not talking about Alec Guinness or Sidney Poitier or Meryl Streep here, in terms of filmographies.

It was with a bit of perplexation, then, that I read someone's Facebook status to be updated today with "Jane Doe* mourns the death of Heath." (*pseudonym)

I mean, sure, you can feel kinda bad about the whole situation — young actor, talented guy, had a kid. But I normally reserve "mourning" for the passing of family members, personal acquaintances, or important public figures. And to me, an actor who's made a few decent flicks isn't — to crib a term from Seinfeld — "mournworthy." Hell, I saw John Candy in several movies that I absolutely love... but when he died, I never contemplated donning a black armband.

I dunno. Maybe I'm just reading into semantics a little too much here. Or perhaps I misinterpreted the word. But for me, Heath Ledger's untimely, perhaps pill-aided death is kind of a bummer to be sure, but I wouldn't go busting out the m-word over it.

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