Putting grief in perspective
Even before it was made known that a toxic cocktail of heroin and alcohol contributed to Cory Monteith’s death, I already had a hunch that his story was bound to follow an all-too familiar teen idol template. I couldn’t help but think of Heath Ledger and, as a matter of reflex, Amy Winehouse. Both wrestled with public fame and personal demons, and both led lives that were also blighted and cut prematurely by substance abuse. Theirs are names I will forever associate with the clichéd phrase “gone too soon.â€
While the Glee star had been candid about his lifelong addiction and stints at rehab, his clean-cut image suggested good health. His passing at 31 was still quite unexpected. As far as troubled young entertainers were concerned, I imagined rather morbidly that Amanda Bynes or Lindsay Lohan would’ve been the next to go.
Proportional coverage
At first I was puzzled by the mainstream media’s somewhat muted coverage of Monteith’s death. I found out by accident, after several mentions of his name on CNN’s tiny breaking news ticker led me to Google what was going on. A more substantial report came almost a day later.
Even then, there was no academic discussion of his impact on contemporary culture, unlike when Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston or Alexander McQueen died. I soon realized that the amount and quality of press a fallen celebrity receives is proportional to the amount and quality of work he or she has left behind.
Apart from making his imprint as Finn Hudson, the tall and awkward character that served as the heart and backbone of the Fox TV series, Monteith had not appeared in anything critics would deem artistic, serious or remotely edgy. Viewing his legacy through this prism makes the upcoming indie cop drama McCanick, his last feature film, extra eerie. He taps into his own history to play a drug addict on the run, ostensibly to prepare for his post-Glee career.
Communal expression
Online, however, it’s a different matter. Young fans, slowly facing up to irrecoverable loss, have been gathering in communal expression of grief. Among the tributes are works of art depicting the 31-year-old Canadian actor as an angel and messages stating how much certain Gleeks — as the show’s most ardent followers are known — have cried since confirming Monteith’s demise.
It sounds terribly cruel, but I winced at these tearful reminiscences. I may have even rolled my eyes. Clearly, I thought, these people have yet to gain perspective. If they think that an idol dying is already emotionally devastating, what more when a parent, beloved family member or close friend passes away?
‘The work of mourning’
I tried to figure out who had the upper hand in such a situation: teens unfamiliar with life-altering grief; or me, a young adult who recently lost his mother. But as The Guardian’s Hadley Freeman observes, “For many teenagers the death of a celebrity is how they learn about mortality.â€
Antonia Macaro and Julian Baggini, in a Financial Times article about the “proper†way to revisit emotional connections with a lost loved one, wrote that right and wrong do not apply to feelings of grief, but to acts of grieving. “There may be no right way to grieve, but surely a wrong way must be to try to conform to the pronouncements of experts or the expectations of others.â€
It was a reminder for me not to judge others on how they contain or disperse their reactions to someone’s death, what Sigmund Freud called “the work of mourning.†That Cory Monteith died young is undeniably sad and tragic. Still, as a naturally stoic person, I preferred to save my tears.
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