When A Celebrity Dies

By Jazz

It’s a weird thing when a celebrity dies. On one hand, it feels a little odd to mourn someone whom you never knew personally. On the other hand, these people become huge figures in the media and, by extension, our lives - whether it be on social media, a TV show, or a movie—the version of them that we see, however accurate, becomes a constant amongst our routines. For example, I was raised surrounded by Star Wars, and Carrie Fisher’s passing in late 2016 was upsetting. I’ve experienced loss in my own life, including relatives and friends, but she was always someone who seemed so alive. Bigger than life. She was Princess freakin’ Leia. It was just so strange to me that someone so prominent and someone I worshipped had suddenly gone. It’s probably that idolisation that makes us forget they’re human, and probably why it feels so strange when they die.

It was Matthew Perry’s passing in October this year that made me think about it all over again. I am ashamedly a lifelong Friends fan; I’ve got merchandise sprinkled throughout my flat, and it’s referenced in so many other shows that I watch. I’ve almost always got the show just playing whilst I do something else - normally for background noise - and it’s just such a weird little important part of my life. The same goes for so many others; there have been many, many sitcoms come and go over the last few decades, but it’s safe to say that none have had the same connection with as many people as Friends has. Even if it’s being criticised or mocked, it’s still cemented itself in modern culture, largely in part to its cast. The six main characters were all funny and stood out in their unique ways, but I know I found myself identifying most with Chandler. He was a little awkward and self-deprecating, but equally funny through his sarcasm and dry humour. Matthew Perry brought to life a relatable and enjoyable character, and whilst he is probably best known for his role on the show, his work outside is commendable as well. He struggled with alcohol and drug addiction for years - largely whilst shooting the sitcom - and put millions of dollars and hours of his time into helping other addicts. He said not long before he died that he would like to be remembered simply “as someone that lived well and loved well.”

So, it’s safe to say that his passing was the most prominent in my lifetime, and it was the first celebrity death that I ever cried about. His character in Friends was a constant in my life; he was a constant in my life, and millions of others too. His contribution to a show that is one of the biggest parts of modern pop culture has cemented his legacy, and it’s only natural to feel a loss. Perry dedicated his life to making people laugh, and that’s something I’ve always appreciated.

I always used to cringe every time I got sad about someone famous dying; I’d tell myself I didn’t know them personally, and that I had to spend less time on the internet for fear of forming all these parasocial relationships. This year brought a lot, though: Michael Gambon, Angus Cloud, Tina Turner, and Sinead O’Connor. They were all names that I saw when I opened social media, and I genuinely felt a pang of sadness when I realised they were all in-memoriam posts. Most of them, of course, ended with something to the effect of their families asking for privacy at this time. It was always that line that made me realise we mourn these people differently from people we genuinely know.

That’s okay, though. Even if we didn’t know these celebrities personally, we still had a connection with them in some way; maybe they played your comfort character or were in a movie you watched when you were sad; maybe their music got you through hard times, or they created something that brought you joy. That’s a personal connection. It’s personal to you and it’s probably important too. It’s okay to mourn for someone you didn’t know because in some way, you did know them. You knew their art, their performances, their creations. They were part of your life in some way and it’s only natural to feel at a loss.

Of course, respecting their privacy is the most paramount part when a public figure dies. I’ll use Matthew Perry again as a reference, purely because he is a prime example of the media overstepping boundaries. He faced a lot of speculation when he was alive - on his health, his love life, his finances - and this only seemed to intensify when he died. The Daily Mail even went as far as using drones to capture the Friends cast crying at his funeral, despite it being a private ceremony (and they even mentioned it in the title of the article). Other tabloids went on to report even further on his personal life, bringing up his history of addiction but doing very little to mention how he’d recovered and helped others. This led to people talking online, and even further to start openly poking at his five co-stars when they hadn’t immediately commented on his death.

The thing to remember about the people that we’ve idolised is that they are human too. As all humans are, they will pass away eventually, but it will still come as a shock and even more as a loss. Feeling that loss is completely natural; sure, it might feel weird, but even though we didn’t know these people personally, they still become part of our everyday lives.