ink-stained wretches

The Undead Celebrity Profile, Part VIIIIIIIXIXIXIIXII

The celebrity profile, as a genre, was declared dead long ago, so long ago that it cannot even be googled. But in reality it has actually lived on, albeit in a sinister, hollow-eyed way and, like a zombie or a vampire or some kind of creature from a different, weird world, these creatures will leap out at you while you are innocently thumbing through a magazine, and through their improbable combination of obsequiousness and self-seriousness try to actually steal your brain right out of your head. Which is what nearly happened to us last night, when we came across Peter Richmond’s profile of Lost actor Matthew Fox in the latest issue of Details.

We can’t decide which part was the most disruptive to our psyches. The part where Fox is like, “I’m done with this thing,” and flat-out ditches the writer in a parking lot:

I’m an actor. I try to play a character in a really cool story, the very best I can. And somehow or other that does make people very interested in what I have to say. And I think that, being the stubborn bastard that I am … the more people want to hear what I have to say, the more I kind of … not say anything. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think that’s my place. Sometimes people look to others for answers they can find within themselves. I don’t really want the responsibility of being the guy they look to.”

He’s hopped off the tailgate, a signal there will be no more answers this evening.

Or the ruminative ending:

The parking lot is dark now; Fox’s profile is etched against the pink neon piping of a strip club across the street, with plywood turrets and bars on the doors and windows. It’s called Fantasy Castle. Fox turns his back on that particular reverie to return to the glow of the garage and the gleaming black Merc — a monster entirely of his own creation.

Steeped in metaphor and confusion, we can only ask: Who really created the monster here?

Matthew Fox [Details]

The Undead Celebrity Profile, Part VIIIIIIIXIXIXIIXII