When I go through my reasons as to why I write fan letters to celebrities, one of the most important is because there are certain people who have this incredible ability to be themselves even when they are playing a character or a role. That’s not easy to do. When I saw you in Cleopatra, it was like you were channeling hidden passions and wishes and powers that all young women ponder but are afraid to face. In Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, you were a drunken, angry mess– but still honest and willing to show that very dark, vulnerable underneath side of you– the grown-up part that’s all scarred, scary and sad. You somehow softened her by your luminous presence without cheating the role. You once said, “I have a woman’s body and a child’s emotions.” This is probably what you meant:
That’s what you were to me. Just a kid in a grown-up persona. You were just being yourself, you said, in National Velvet. You even picked out the horse and it was, after all, your very favorite book. It practically wasn’t even acting, so we all totally fell in love with you– not your character– but Elizabeth. That was the beginning. A true American girl’s story. A real girl.
People commented a lot about your amazing violet eyes. Maybe they were there to remind us that you were in there somewhere giving courage to your characters in ways that you probably had a hard time giving to yourself. Every time I bought in to one of your performances, there was that little part of my soul that could recognize your soul through that particularly awesome shade of purple that led straight to you. You were ever-present in those roles. Your eyes made sure of that.
I don’t think it’s worth it to recount your entire amazing career in this letter. Anyone can Google that. But what I did want to do was thank you for was standing as beacon for people living with AIDS as amFAR’s Founding National Chairman, especially during a time when there was so much widespread panic about it.
I saw a clip of you today on Entertainment Tonight that you did in 2007 where you said that you grew to resent your fame during the majority of your adult life and you did everything you could to run from it. Were you the original celebrity? Some people think so. Your life was as interesting to the media as your movies. This became the thing you really hated.
Then one day, it occurred to you that you could actually use your fame for something great. AIDS awareness. But then the shock set in. People turned on you. They told you not to align yourself with such a controversial disease. There were death threats. “It was the most horrendous time of my life,” you said. It was a time when not only were you so worried about the thousands of people who were fighting the disease, but you were totally shocked at how heartless people could be about other people’s suffering.
But even as your own health was falling apart, you stood strong for others. “I’ve been through it all, baby, I’m mother courage,” you said.
Yes, you were one of the most stunningly beautiful actresses of your time with such a mesmerizing screen presence, I would challenge anyone to be able to look away from you once you entered a scene. But you had heart. A really good one. Even though, in the end, it failed you.
And then we began to see the creeping vines of time wind their way around you in such a poetic, but tragic way. Women could see themselves in you through each divorce, each scary diagnosis, each painful death, each struggle with addiction and with every pound you gained and lost. But we loved you, loved you, loved you.
I wish you had not hated your fame so much. I wish the media and the industry you chose were not so creepy and heartless and terrible at times. The glowing flipside was, without them, you couldn’t have affected change the way you did. You did that by being you. That was all that was required. I might only be a teenager, but anyone who loves movies as much as I do knows a staggering talent when she sees one.
You may not have been the best example in the boy department, but that was never your job. You found your role. It was to be creative, sexy, dramatic, powerful and compassionate. You sure nailed it. Thank you.
Always,
Capra
The Book of Stars 