The Glamorization of Death in Hollywood
Terms of Endearment (1983)
Death and loss are quintessential aspects of the storytelling we see from Hollywood, yet we so rarely question the lasting impact of this glamorization of suffering on the silver screen.
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The use of death in books and films is essential for both character and plot development. It brings a sense of depth and poignancy which allows the highs of the film and the heroics of the main character to shine even brighter in comparison, while permitting the audience to witness the trials and tribulations suffered throughout the hero’s journey. But there is a flippancy in Hollywood’s use of death which is far too often overlooked, brought into focus only when a death in the real world stuns us out of our stupor for a brief moment, pointing the looking glass to a topic that the West, especially, is radically unequipped to handle.
This month it was the loss of Chadwick Boseman, a giant in the film industry and a hero to millions of Marvel fans, especially in the Black community, which demonstrated the stark contrast between grief in Hollywood movies and grief in real life. His portrayal of Jackie Robinson, James Brown, Thurgood Marshall; his roles in 21 Bridges and the Avengers movies; and especially his role as T’Challa in Marvel’s Black Panther brought Boseman international acclaim, enshrining his figure as one of the great actors of his generation. Watching Boseman onscreen feels like watching living, breathing history in action. The way he embodied roles with all of their authenticity and nuance, the kindness he carried in his everyday life, and the representation he bought in a milestone superhero film which dealt with what it means to be Black in Africa and America, are all pieces of why Boseman’s death struck a chord in the hearts of so many across the world.
When the producers of Black Panther wanted Boseman’s character to speak in a British accent, he lobbied to speak in a South African accent and keep T’Challa as authentic to the plot as possible. It was the first major superhero film with an African protagonist, and the first to star a majority Black cast, so he understood the impact it could have. The film was shot in 2017 after Boseman had been diagnosed with stage III colon cancer, a fact which he kept private from the media and the public. When photos captured Boseman looking significantly thinner in the last year, however, parts of Twitter jumped on the opportunity to tease him for losing his iconic superhero frame, while others expressed concern for the dramatic weight loss. After news of his death on August 28th (coincidentally, also Jackie Robinson Day 2020), people shared these same images again with heavy hearts, riddled with guilt and grief that they could not have realized what was going on before. He was forty-three years old.
Chadwick Boseman’s death shook both Hollywood and the world. As young fans shared photos of themselves arranging their superhero toys in solemn tribute and saluting “Wakanda Forever” in memoriam, world leaders and cultural figures alike shared messages about the loss of a beloved public figure.
Joe Biden stated that Boseman “inspired generations and showed them they can be anything they want — even super heroes.”
Martin Luther King III, a human rights activist and eldest son of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., stated that the actor “brought history to life on the silver screen” through his portrayals of revolutionary Black leaders.
Barack Obama wrote, “Chadwick came to the White House to work with kids when he was playing Jackie Robinson. You could tell right away that he was blessed. To be young, gifted, and Black; to use that power to give them heroes to look up to; to do it all while in pain – what a use of his years.”
It is unexpected and unimaginable losses like this – of individuals so young, talented, kind, and seemingly unstoppable – which stand stark in contrast next to the glossed over, sanitized deaths that we get to witness on-screen in Hollywood productions. The death of Robin Williams in 2014 was another real-life tragedy that rocked Hollywood, unthinkable to everyone who watched the Oscar-winning comedian in dozens of roles as dynamic, droll, quirky, and sentimental characters who we grew to know and love over the decades. It was a shocking reminder that there is real grief, real pain, which outweighs any inspirational line from a movie. There are unstoppable forces which cannot be romanticized off screen, which we are forced to accept and cope with no matter how difficult, because there is no other option.
Death in real life is both exactly the same as the movies and nothing at all, because the ramifications of this permanent type of grief are continually skipped over on film, and as a culture, we are not prepared to witness the reality of human suffering and trauma. In movies, the protagonist might have a good cry, a scream, a musical crescendo, or a cinematic shot to enunciate their pain; but Hollywood takes death, scrubs it clean, puts a bow on top, and ties it up tight before moving on; so the viewer is never forced to see the unravelling which this kind of loss brings in reality.
“Hollywood takes death, scrubs it clean, puts a bow on top, and ties it up tight before moving on; so the viewer is never forced to see the unravelling which this kind of loss brings in reality. ”
Romanticizing death is a dangerous game, and one which Hollywood plays at in nearly everything it produces. “Hollywood” is used here as a blanket term for the film and television industry based in Hollywood, California which rules modern cultural output, which runs awards shows like the Oscars, and which has real sway over public influence and even political agendas. Hollywood is far more powerful than we give it credit for. There is not necessarily one man behind the curtain, but there are not many, which is why we must be even more fervent in calling attention to their mistakes, their motives, and their plots – both figurative and literal.
If death and dying are necessary for character arc and plot development, we cannot fault the film and television industry for wanting to tell a good story. However, there is a great danger in not telling a true story, even one that is fictional. Truth is found in the human experience, in thoughtful and inquisitive analysis of the world around us – and we do not need a documentary or biopic to explore these ideas. Some of the most evocative and powerful stories about what it means to be human have been told through works of fiction, especially those which do not gloss over details that are difficult to face. They confront hardship head on, they share the sometimes-gruesome reality of human woe, and they acknowledge human faults. Even these forms of storytelling, though, often miss the mark when it comes to death.
It seems that the only scripts which are able to wholly and honestly capture death in all its facets are historical analyses that utilize the benefit of hindsight and maintain an almost uncaring distance to characters who die, or portrayals of war which purposely avoid glamorizing the process of killing and being killed. Even then, films about war and violence have a naughty tendency to lean the opposite direction, instead romanticizing the act of inflicting pain and the act of being martyred, to the extent that parents and lawmakers fight the production of anything which may fall within this trope for fear it could influence young people to become violent themselves.
The other side of this spectrum can be seen in movies like Terms of Endearment or The Fault in Our Stars, which consistently portray common deaths from age and disease as quiet, tranquil, and eloquent moments. They tend to romanticize terminal illnesses like cancer, especially when they occur in young people. It is also seen in shows such as Netflix’s 13 Reasons Why, which idolizes mental illness and suicide, or Netflix’s Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil, and Vile and Netflix’s You, several of the many productions that romanticize serial killers and psychopathy. These are the extremes, but in nearly every film and show produced since the creation of motion pictures, when death is addressed, it is done through the lens of what the audience will find palatable and what will sell tickets.
Perhaps, here, there is a cultural and religious divide in how we understand death, and in turn, how this affects our view of dying. The way we individually think about faith, life, and an afterlife can dramatically change how we perceive significance in the act of dying and what follows next. Additionally, conceptions and rituals surrounding death are enormously shaped by where we come from. In China, for instance, the color of mourning is white rather than black, and funeral rituals vary depending on the individual, but the official mourning period for a Buddhist can go on for 100 days. In Japan, on the other hand, death is commonly viewed as liberation, and acceptance of death is more important than expressions of grief (in China, professional wailers are sometimes hired for funerals because the younger generation is said to not properly understand how to express grief). In the Hindu faith, it is preferable to die at home, surrounded by family, and the soul is believed to continue on after death according to an individual’s karma. In the Muslim faith, death is regarded as a loss to the Muslim community as a whole, so it is not uncommon for strangers to attend funerals. Death itself is universal, but the rituals and expressions of grief largely vary from culture to culture.
Western culture generally has an aversion to death, where it remains taboo and is largely kept private and hidden. It is rare to have witnessed death in person or to have seen a dead body, even for elderly people who have experienced this loss many times over. Most families limit the people allowed to be in the room when the actual act of death occurs to an absolute minimum, and many do not even allow children or females to attend funerals, in an effort to “protect” those who are more “pure” from the corrupting stain of visible mortality.
As Maggie Jones wrote in a fascinating article about the movement to bring death closer to us through the use of home-funeral guides, “In the United States, we have come to see death as an emergency. We call the doctors, the nurses, the police, the emergency workers, the funeral staff to take over for us. They hurry corpses from hospital rooms or bedrooms into designated, chilled death spaces. They dig and fill the graves for us and drive our loved ones, alone, to the crematories. They turn on the furnace, lift the bodies, close the door.” (The New York Times Magazine, 2019).
This secrecy surrounding death in the West exists almost as if we try to deny death itself, to pretend it will not happen to us or to our families. When referring to the death of loved ones and strangers we don’t even use the word “died” most of the time, we use phrases like “passed away,” as if the person has not actually died, but merely drifted to a more comfortable location nearby. For some, this may be an accurate representation of their beliefs, but for most people, it is much more an act of protecting those around us from the real, deep knowledge and emotions that accompany this type of loss. We do everything we can to shield ourselves from the reality of death and dying, and especially, to minimize the burden that our own grief may have on others.
“We don’t even use the word ‘died’ most of the time, we use phrases like ‘passed away,’ as if the person has not actually died, but merely drifted to a more comfortable location nearby. ”
The taboo of death in Western culture is entirely to our own detriment, because when death actually occurs, we have little to no exposure to it besides what we see in films and television shows. This makes these on-screen representations of death and dying even more important and impactful. If we are not allowed to know, see, and feel the ramifications of death at a young age, then when we actually are forced to reconcile with this formidable opponent in real life, we are radically ill-equipped to handle the loss of a loved one and its consequences.
Hollywood, like any capitalist industry, is accountable primarily to its profits, shareholders, and CEOs. However, if Hollywood’s depictions of death are our primary source of knowledge on the subject, we must require much more honesty, respect, and truth in these portrayals on the silver screen. This is especially important this year, as we have been forced to reckon with death and illness on a massive global scale.
We cannot continue to glamorize, romanticize, and sanitize death on-screen if we want to be prepared for this final act in real life.
Emma Hemingway is a fourth year student at the University of Edinburgh studying International Relations. She is the founder, web designer, and Editor-in-Chief of Ensemble Magazine.