Showing posts with label actress. Show all posts
Showing posts with label actress. Show all posts

Monday, December 27, 2010

Too Young to Die



Do you recall the "Poltergeist" movies, especially the first one that came out in 1982?

Do you remember Heather O'Rourke, the young actress who played the youngest daughter in the Freeling family, Carol Anne?

O'Rourke made three "Poltergeist" movies in the 1980s. Her line, "They're here," probably was as recognizable as Jack Nicholson's cryptic "He–e–e–ere's Johnny!" had been a few years earlier in "The Shining."

In 1987, O'Rourke apparently was misdiagnosed with Crohn's disease. Early in 1988, she became ill and collapsed, suffered cardiac arrest during surgery and died.

She was 12 at the time of her death.

Anyway, I mention O'Rourke because today would have been her 35th birthday.

It seems strange to me to wonder what O'Rourke might have done in the last 23 years. In my mind, she will always be the little girl in "Poltergeist."

If she had lived, I might always have thought of "Poltergeist" whenever I saw her, much the way people of my parents' generation always thought of Dorothy in "The Wizard of Oz" when they saw Judy Garland.

Perhaps I instinctively knew that "Poltergeist" would be the signature of her career, no matter how long that career might be.

I doubt that I suspected that she would die so young. I'm just saying that it may have been one of those cases where you just know that nothing else the actor/actress ever does will match what you're looking at.

Of course, when I think about it, I've never really been able to anticipate what child actors may go on to do — or if they are going to do anything else — in movies or television.

Some, like Jodie Foster, make the transition from child roles to adult roles and enjoy a successful career that includes some quality productions, some award nominations, even an Oscar.

Far more, though, seem to endure troubled and reckless adolescences. If they survive them, they often seem to mostly disappear from public view and only re–appear when they are in trouble with the law.

O'Rourke occupied a third category, I guess. She doesn't seem to have been a troubled kid — perhaps she would have become one if she had lived into her teens. Perhaps she would have had a Foster–like career if fate had not intervened.

I don't know if she would have remained in the business or if she would have pursued a different career path. She did very little outside of the "Poltergeist" films. She didn't have enough time.

Of course, many child actors turn out to be visually appealing but little else — and when they outgrow their childhood cuteness, nothing is left. I don't know if that would have been the case with O'Rourke, but I always sensed there were talents within her. Whether those talents would have been seen on the silver screen or in some other pursuit, I do not know.

It is probably safe to say that, by the age of 35, she may well have had children of her own. She may have been leading a very public life or a very private one. No one can say.

I only know she was far too young to die.

Saturday, November 06, 2010

Jill Clayburgh Dies



Actress Jill Clayburgh died yesterday.

And, while the last thing I want to do at a time like this is appear flippant, I guess my very first response to the news was that I didn't even know she was sick.

But sick she was.

Clayburgh, who was 66, apparently suffered from leukemia for more than two decades. But she did so privately. Outside of her family and, presumably, some close friends, Clayburgh's illness seems to have been unknown. Certainly it was unknown to the general public.

I know little about leukemia, actually. I mean, I know it is a blood disease, and I know it is classified as a cancer, but, while I have known quite a few people who have been diagnosed with cancer, I can only recall one person who was diagnosed with leukemia.

That was a classmate of mine in third grade.

Of course, that was many years ago, but my memory is that his illness was very aggressive, and he died within a year. Perhaps he had been treated for it longer than that, and I just didn't know. But he obviously didn't live with it for 21 years.

I realize that a lot of things have changed for the better since I was a child, and one of those things is cancer treatment.

Science hasn't reached the point where it has conquered every cancer in every conceivable form, even the most aggressive ones. It may never reach that point. But the improvements in my lifetime have been amazing.

And, possibly, Clayburgh's experience of having her life extended by the drugs that were prescribed to her is proof of that.

Then again, perhaps there is a difference between the kind of leukemia that Billy had all those years ago and the kind that Clayburgh had, and comparing the two is like comparing apples and oranges.

As I say, I don't know much about leukemia, but I know a few things. For example, most of the people who are diagnosed with it are adults. Maybe it is more lethal, more aggressive in children. Maybe it is harder to treat in children.

I also see, in Clayburgh's obituaries, that she is said to have had chronic leukemia. That, too, may be a noteworthy — perhaps related — distinction. My understanding is that it is something that is almost always diagnosed in adults, rarely in children.

It's possible, I guess, that Billy was one of those exceptions, a child diagnosed with chronic leukemia, and that complicated his treatment. I was about 9 or 10 when he died, and all I knew was that he died of leukemia. No one got any more specific than that.

When I was a child, a diagnosis of cancer of any kind was a death sentence. Or at least it seemed to be. I guess there have always been those who survived a diagnosis of cancer, but there were none in my personal experience until I was older, much older.

And some of those I've known who were diagnosed with cancer have survived. I'm happy for them, but I'm not naive. We're a long way from eliminating cancer. We're closer than we were when I was a child, and we're making progress, but we're not on the brink of the single discovery that will make it possible to prevent all types of cancer from striking anyone anywhere.

Lives will continue to be lost, but those lives need not be lost in vain. Perhaps there are things medical science can learn from Clayburgh's 21–year fight with leukemia. Perhaps her death will contribute to a greater understanding. Perhaps it may one day make it possible for others to live and be cured.

Today, though, I want to remember Clayburgh's performances. "I do best with characters who are coming apart at the seams," she told the New York Times, and indeed she did. I remember two films she did in the late 1970s — "An Unmarried Woman" and "Starting Over" — that told the stories of women facing the challenges of being single in that turbulent decade when societal roles for women were constantly being redefined.

Those performances earned her back–to–back Oscar nominations.

She had many great performances in her career, and that is the legacy she leaves behind.

Rest in peace, Jill Clayburgh.