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I hate to be a hater, but the whole Heath Ledger thing has gone a bit too far. Actor overdoses on pills. It happens.
At the moment, though, the upper lefthand corner of the Miami Herald’s web site reads “At a Loss: Sign Heath Ledger’s Book.” There’s even a little timeline of his career –in case you only have a vague, passing notion of who this guy even was.
I suppose it’s “tragic” in the classical Greek sense of the word. But does there really need to be a guest book? Is Ledger’s bereaved ex-wife really going to sit around and read the condolences left by T A from Philadelphia, who is “completely shocked”?
Many of the comments appear to be addressed to Heath in the afterlife. “I loved your movies,” T A wrote.
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Which leads me to believe that everyone who is signing Heath Ledger’s guest book believes he is watching them, and that Leger’s spirit is smililng now, in the ethers, and shedding a single celestial tear for the kind words of Samantha S, of Kissimee, whom Heath so deeply inspired with his performance as Mel Gibson’s son in The Patriot. —Calvin Godfrey
