Ledger's death leaves one wondering "What might have been"

By PHILIP WUNTCH
Film Critic Emeritus

Heath Ledger was named for Heathcliff, the tragic, tormented hero of Emily Bronte's "Wuthering Heights." The actor's death Tuesday, at the age of 28, links his name to tragedy in an even more indelible fashion.

By most accounts, the death was accidental although the more sensational taint of "possible suicide" may linger for a while. Ledger's youthful, sad demise does not elevate him to the celestial status of the early-to-die James Dean. Movies as well as movie fans have undergone tremendous changes over the last half-century. The greatest tragedy, from a professional perspective, is for "what might have been."

Ledger was the kind of actor who gracefully moved from leading man parts to character roles, a trait that clearly signaled a long career that now will never be fulfilled. He didn't always demand the starring role; his footage as Billy Bob Thornton's sensitive, suicidal son in 2001's "Monster's Ball" contained only a few brief scenes. Nor did he favor glossy, romantic characters. In fact, his most conventional roles were among his biggest flops.

I met him only once, when he was touring for the lavish 2002 remake of "Four Feathers," in which he played a conventional hero role. The day of the interview, a trade paper panned the big-budget film, correctly predicting the public's apathy. As I entered the room, one of his personal handlers said, "Please don't mention that review. He's very vulnerable."

I made no promises. I didn't have to. Ledger mentioned the review himself.

"Have you seen The Hollywood Reporter?," he said. "They really blasted it. I knew going in that not everyone was going to like it. But it deals with a character's redemption, and that appealed to me."

He didn't make the remark as if hoping I would protest, "Oh, that critic had it all wrong." He spoke in a disarmingly open manner and seemed like a pleasant chap.

That pleasant impression was enhanced Tuesday with reports that when he and "Brokeback Mountain" co-star Michelle Williams split, he didn't want their 2-year-old daughter to feel disoriented or displaced. He had his new dwelling designed to look as much as possible like the one he had shared with Williams, with his daughter's new bedroom decorated almost exactly like the one where she now lived alone with her mother. As far as I know, these reports were only made posthumously. He did not parade his strong paternal instincts in public.

He showed a randy comic side playing a wryly observant high school iconoclast in 1999's "10 Things I Hate About You" and had the charisma necessary not to make a fool of himself in 2005's "Casanova." He was a savvy enough actor to overcome the plot conventions of 2000's "The Patriot" and hold his own with the then-imperial Mel Gibson. He was one of several Bob Dylan incarnations in "I'm Not There," and some critics thought his was the best.

But his finest performances were in two unconventional roles. He captured all the nuances of "Brokeback Mountain"'s initially reluctant gay cowboy, and he was startlingly good as a heroin-addicted poet in 2006's largely unseen "Candy," no relation to the Terry Southern novel. Both characters met tragic, lonely fates.

This summer he will be seen as The Joker in the newest Batman flick, "The Dark Knight," with the equally inventive Christian Bale reprising his Batman role. Warner Bros. issued a statement, properly regretting the "devastating and shocking loss." More pragmatically, studio honchos must be pondering how the Ledger loss will affect the advertising campaign and ultimately the box office. One of "The Dark Knight"'s key posters shows Ledger in clown's face, using lipstick to smear the words "Why So Serious?" on a mirror. Will the public feel like smiling?

The actor also had started filming "The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus" for irreverent director Terry Gilliam. That film's future is currently unknown.

Ledger leaves behind a solid inventory of courageous performances. They promised a durable and imposing career that sadly will never be.