Star Wars is perhaps the film series that best signifies what is now called post-modernism, which heralded the end of modernism and marked a nostalgic yearning for what had gone before. It is also the emblem of the age of technology and pastiche and plunders from many sources. Its content was also subversive and continued through narratives of outer space, the revulsion felt by many in the seventies against the aggression of super powers.
Fisher’s mother, Debbie Reynolds, the star of ‘Singin’ in the Rain and The Unsinkable Molly Brown, among many memorable films of the fifties and sixties, followed her daughter one day later on 28th December.
Reynolds was not simply a star, she devoted her later life to humanitarian enterprises, perhaps recognising that celebrity status could never make up for a life dedicated to the service of mankind.
That she seems to have died of a broken heart seems oddly in tune with the soft light that her films shed.
But the list of international stars of stage and screen is long. There were Gene Wilder and David Bowie and Prince. Then Zsa Zsa Gabor, whose life spanned almost a century, died just before Christmas.
When the news of the death of the singer George Michael came many felt that there was a strange scenario being played out in the year.
Indeed 2016 was a year when many heroes fell leaving only the memory of their intense idealism.
But what memories! Their deaths make us reconsider what we mean by achievement and success and examine the legacy that we will leave behind. I guess the greatest to be counted amongst these dead would be Muhammad Ali and Fidel Castro. At their deaths the world shifted on its axis. Both men shared an extraordinary and unbending commitment to an ideal. The 21st century will come to mean something quite different from what they signified. In this new era remaining unswervingly committed in the face of what would have appeared to be insurmountable odds must seem something of a mystery.
When one thinks of Olympic gold medallist Muhammad Ali refusing to participate in the Vietnam War as a conscientious objector, despite the knowledge that he would be suspended and his career compromised, the lethargy of the uncommitted takes on new meaning.
But despite the fact that he was banned for three and a half years, Ali made an astonishing comeback.
He went on to use his fame and stature to help publicise the plight of the marginalised and left a legacy of philanthropic endeavour.
I remember the cheers and the sheer joy of the seven thousand participants when Ali appeared as a special guest at the World Special Olympics in Ireland in 2003, even as he battled against Parkinson’s disease.
Then there was the death of Fidel Castro. Here was a man and an icon who undoubtedly changed the course of the world. When he with Che Guevara overthrew the corrupt and authoritarian government of Cuban President Batista after a succession of guerilla attacks, few would have imagined that Castro could outface economic and ideological pressure and blockades for nigh five decades. Yet he continued to dismiss the threats of those with power and was the kind of person whose ideals were never compromised by the pending image of greatness or gain. That he believed that history would indeed absolve him meant that he could act where necessary, knowing that his long vision would one day be seen as just that. As is well known he remained an inspiration throughout the world, while simultaneously subject to vitriolic condemnation and also fending off assassination attacks. Others in our own region were part of this constellation of transformers who felt that it was their destiny to change our small world. There were Geddes Granger later called Makandal Daaga in Trinidad and Tobago and Valerie Belgrave who was one of the inspirations for the 1970 so called Black Power revolution. That black people are still in mental chains and not fully cognisant of their potential suggests that the mission of these individuals is as yet incomplete.
Holly Betaudier, a household name, broadcaster, and mentor, also died and was buried in his home town of Arima.
For both young and old, Leonard Cohen, the multi talented and versatile singer, songwriter, novelist and painter whose Hallelujah remains a haunting melody, was perhaps one of the most significant losses. He represented the versatility of the artist of the 20th century.
Like many Caribbean artists he seemed unwilling to be categorised or pigeon holed. As with so many of our own, such as Derek Walcott, V. S. Naipaul, Kamau Brathwaite and Shani Mootoo, he saw the interconnections between the arts and perhaps their mutual dependence.
Thinking about this we recall George Lamming’s Water With Berries, which is a difficult but still deeply relevant work, where combined artistic endeavour creates a forum for social critique. For many of these greats life meant ensuring that their talents served no false gods and could shine despite the odds.
May they rest in peace.
