This week, we’re mourning one person who bucked the PR handbook, curious about another who might’ve put a crack in his carefully-shaped image and scratching our heads over a third who may or may not have committed suicide.
Not necessarily who you think.
As an entertainment writer for a daily paper in the 1980s, I went to countless network TV junkets. The ritual was a screening, press conference and nice meal where each talent was instructed to join a table of journalists and continue plugging the project. Some actors undertook the assignment with the same enthusiasm they’d muster if forced to share a Jacuzzi with lepers. Others were standoffish, buried in hushed conversations with their publicist-companions.
Most picked at food and politely made small talk -- the same time-killing mindless chatter between airplane seatmates. They did it to keep their distance from us scary reporters, but we were left thinking they were just vapid.
A few were memorable for being authentic, including David Carradine.
We met when he was on the other side of the “Kung Fu” fame, showing years of hard living and getting by on TV movies. I’d hoped one of the junket’s hot young actors would settle in next to me and was disappointed when Carradine landed instead.
Little did I know I’d won the night’s empty seat lottery. He launched into a casual conversation about real life stuff, freewheeling and unfiltered. He ate enthusiastically (including throughout the executives’ speeches), talked about restaurants and favorite meals. He offered opinions on endless subjects, some of which reminded him of anecdotes he shared with us.
I don’t remember much more except that he’d ordered one of the meal choices and I’d taken the other. And I guess he decided we knew each other well enough to ask, “Can I try that?” I said sure and he dug his fork in.
Some obituaries have mentioned Carradine’s shyness. I have no idea whether the persona I encountered was the real one or what he mustered for appearances. But I enjoyed a dinner with a rare celebrity totally unconcerned with PR protocol and the dangers of media interaction. And he was a delight.
While Mel Gibson is fortunately healthy, he appears intent on killing his career.
For years, Gibson topped the short list of actors with loyal female fan bases: guys like Patrick Swayze, Dennis Quaid, Hugh Jackman, Tom Hanks. Post-Sugar Tits, Gibson got stuck in that other fraternity where Kevin Costner’s been a longtime brother: men we used to love who broke our hearts.
Gibson seemed to be quietly rebuilding his impressive career and good-guy image. But he’s back in the spotlight since his wife of 28 years, who bore their seven children, is divorcing him just as the tabs uncovered a mistress who’s pregnant with his eighth.
Yet he's not managing this gracefully. He swaggered around someone else’s film premiere hand-in-hand with his botoxed baby mama.
