The Shock of Heath Ledger's Departure

What a sad way to wake up this morning, particularly for little Matilda. Heath Ledger has been found dead in a Manhattan apartment, apparently from a drug overdose. Friends have said that he had a drug problem, but that he's been clean for a year. His family are adamant it wasn't suicide, and apparently he was ill with pneumonia, so it seems likely he misjudged his self-medication.


His death is one of those celebrity events I find quite sad, much more so then I would have predicted. Thinking about it, I guess my esteem for him has gradually grown since the initial pretty boy phase of his career. I admired the risk he took with starring in Brokeback Mountain, and he always came across as a pretty genuine, down-to-earth sort of guy, who loved his daughter deeply. I always imagined him ageing well as an actor, given the success he had already with stepping outside of expectations in the roles he chose. Poor Terry Gilliam, in the middle of shooting a film with Heath, will have yet another film likely written off, on top of loosing a colleague he undoubtedly liked. I expect I will have mixed feelings watching the upcoming Batman, his last ever role.

Heath deserved to be a Hollywood legend, and now sadly, he has earned that status irrevocably.