Everybody Curses, I Swear!

by Carrie Keagan

  Thank you, Jackie.

  A FUCKING M&M

  In life, sometimes profound insights are born of unanticipated consequences resulting from unimaginable scenarios. Sort of like the time I fell madly in love and ran away with a wild and sexually adventurous guy who pushed my boundaries and excited me more than I ever thought possible, only to discover that mah Prince Charmin’ preferred to orgasm while defecating into a diaper. (Yeah … it’s a thing. Take a minute if you need it … Fuck it! Take two…) Well, you’d be amazed at how quickly it led me to reevaluate my priorities; ditch Romeo’s swaddled ass, knee-deep in his own mud; and get my life back on track. ’Cause you don’t need to get fucked, just ’cause you got kissed! Which, naturally, brings me to the sweet memory of a curious encounter with a complicated but kind actor, many years ago, the effects of which multiplied over time and rippled across my professional life. He may have sealed the deal with an M&M, but it was his incredible warmheartedness that made waking up with Heath Ledger such a bittersweet affair. Again, it’s not what you’re thinking, and I don’t mean to pump your grundle, but you can trust me when I tell you that an inconceivable quickie with Heath led me to an earth-shattering revelation. And I’ve had a special connection to him ever since.

  The crazy-sweet irony of this story is that it should never have happened. Heath and I came from two different sides of the Hollywood tracks. I was a simple girl with complicated inclinations. He was a complicated actor with very specific tendencies. I was, generally, a happy person and easy to get along with. He was generally pensive and took a long time to warm up to you. I had a filthy sense of humor and I loved to laugh … a lot … at pretty much anything … to the point of being annoying. He was pretty modest and his humor was reserved for his close friends.

  In strictly technical terms, I saw him as a foreign exchange student who was having a hard time understanding our culture, and he probably saw me as one of those Asian hip-hop junkies with the sick dance moves. We understood that we didn’t understand each other, if we understood anything at all. But if you know your West Side Story then you understand that the Jets and the Sharks don’t mix. At best, it was an uneasy truce. Of course, there was the occasional bit of no-contact dance fighting, which was a pretty accurate way of describing our previous interviews together. I always found it easier to connect with the playful celebs, and he always played his cards very close to his vest. We had been running into each other for years, and let’s just say very few “bruhs” were exchanged. So if anyone was going to profoundly impact my life, it wasn’t going to be him. Plus, he wasn’t exactly a fan of the press.

  Heath was a very nice person and we got along. But some of the most amazing actors in the world are notoriously press shy and detest doing interviews … with anyone. They’re all about the work, and the rest of it is just invasive and unnatural. For some it’s easier playing a character than playing themselves. They find comfort in fiction and anxiety in everything else. All my experiences up until that point made me consider Heath to be press incompatible, which meant that the best outcome I could ever hope for in an interview with him was a stalemate, so I stopped pushing.

  And by the way, for anyone just starting out, until you figure out which actors are in this group and adjust your tact in the interviews, like I eventually did, get used to being a ball in the pinball machine of awkward experiences. You’re about to enter the junket equivalent of The Twilight Zone. You’ll get to experience everything from the uncomfortable, demeaning, and insulting to the rude, condescending, and bizarre, and that’s before you’ve even asked your first question. From there it’s kind of like a BDSM session but without the complimentary suck ’n’ fuck! It’s made up of ducking and weaving with a solid bit of dodging and skeeving. But don’t expect anyone to take pity on you and explain that it’s not your fault. You’ll be left to stew in your own failure and insecurity. As far as anyone is concerned, you signed up for ferret-legging as your elective this semester, and by God, you’re going to see it through. So why do we, the press, tolerate this? Have you sampled the buffet at the Four Seasons Hotel? Round-trip airfare and free popcorn? We may be whores but we’re not stupid.

  All kidding aside, I’ve never had issues with the more serious and self-analytical artists, but I’ve always found those relationships to be far too complex to allow any room for joy. In the beginning, I quickly came to realize that in those interviews, it was next to impossible to get close and connect with those celebrities. They were so guarded that there was no clear path to finding any truth. There was never any opportunity for fun. It always made me feel like I was lost on the ass side of ball town. Those sit-downs were more like cerebral expeditions into the outer reaches of an emotional abyss. Wonderful if you’re Charlie Rose, but it might as well be a documentary on Dutch hegemony in the 1600s for us. I couldn’t understand what place these more introspective interviews would have on NGTV. I didn’t know it then, but the answer would turn out to be right in front of me.

  When I’m able to break down that wall or take off that mask with the most closed-off stars, it’s the best feeling in the world. But Heath Ledger had never been an easy interview. He was never rude. He was never unpleasant. But he could be pretty introverted and reserved. I liked him. There was nothing not to like. He was a very sweet and gentle guy, but I swear to God, it was like pulling teeth trying to get him to open up. I always thought he just didn’t enjoy the constant self-analysis that went hand-in-hand with doing press. Even my light touch suffered the consequences of his pathologically press-shy nature. On the plus side, he wasn’t media-treated or a press whore, for no other reason than because he just didn’t give a shit. Every time I’d seen him in the past, like for The Brothers Grimm or Lords of Dogtown, he was super polite. “Nice to see you again,” he’d say, and then we’d do another interview that felt like a staring contest … with words, only to be occasionally saved by a boisterous cast mate like Matt Damon who was paired with him.

  However, all that was about to change when I went to interview Heath in November 2007, at the junket for the movie I’m Not There. He’d already finished filming Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight and was waiting for it to be released the following summer, and the future seemed brimming with possibilities. Our truly unforgettable final sit-down together was elegant, simple, and profoundly poetic. The impact of our conversation would be almost immediate. Opening my eyes and expanding my perception of my role as a journalist. And within a few short months, it would alter my entire perspective on the true power of No Good TV as a guardian of historical record for the fans.

  From the moment I walked into the room, I noticed Heath was not himself, and I mean that in a good way. He appeared to have gone through a cataclysmic change in attitude, which I found both exciting and alarming. Sort of like going to a nude beach in the Middle East. Now, he wasn’t about to do cartwheels and scream out “Suck my nutsack!” He just seemed really relaxed.

  As I sat down, the crew was still going through final preparations before we could start rolling. So Heath and I started chitchatting, which was unusual for him. During the interview, I could feel a sense of calm in his demeanor as if he was actually enjoying his time with me. He appeared whimsical and open, almost at ease. You could see the fascination in my face. All I could do was sit there and watch this moment unfold and do my best to just be in it with him and enjoy the ride. None of it made any logical sense, and there wasn’t going to be any logical way to edit this, but I knew what was happening was very special. How special, I had no idea at the time.

  Me: (Reminding him.) We’re uncensored.

  Heath: Do you just swear because you’re allowed to swear?

  Me: Sometimes. Sometimes it’s just better for emphasis.

  Heath: (Laughing heartily.) That’s funny. Do you want a fuckin’ M&M?

  Me: I would love a fuckin’ M&M! Thanks, man! This is gonna be my Dylan M&M!

  My inner voice lit up, screaming: What the fuck is happening here? Why is
he enjoying himself? Why am I? Who the hell is this guy and where the hell is Heath? Followed by the next logical thought: Clearly, this is an alien abduction! I had come prepared for oral surgery with a sweet but very uncooperative patient and not this delightful charm-bashing I lay victim to. When you’re the battered wife in a junket relationship, the absence of hope is your oxygen, and you keep breathing it in like it’s running out. So I naturally concluded: It must be a trap.

  I felt like I was living out the knock-knock joke where you’re painfully put through: “Knock knock! Who’s there? Banana. Banana who?” countless times and then, when you least expect it, you’re hit with, “Knock knock! Who’s there? Orange. Orange who? Orange you glad I didn’t say banana!” Yes, you get the sweet relief of finally getting a fucking orange before you pull all your hair out. But, in the end, what happens? You still get hit over the head with another motherfucking banana!!! Now, isn’t that just the way life is!! And this is coming from me, the architect of the original banana theory from the intro! So how could I possibly know if Heath’s orange wasn’t really a banana, and why on earth would I take that chance?

  So I decided to stay the course and not get too excited. No doubt it was an unexpected start to the interview, but the odds were he would step back into his normal, more subdued comfort zone. So as tempting as it was to get in there and cuss it up, I knew that a sudden move on my part to pick up what mah man Heath was throwin’ down could be a mistake that would leave my ass hanging out in the breeze.

  That hesitation proved to be a revelation. I lay back and let it play out with nothing but some gentle nudges here and there, following his lead. And I couldn’t believe it; he continued to aimlessly banter with me. He touched on some vagaries and bullshit about Bob Dylan with almost an ambivalence toward any sort of journalistic Q&A protocol. A structure that had, in the past, always been something he adhered to. He wasn’t one to reveal much, but what he did say lacked the casual disregard of today. After years of playing the pseudo-intellectual equivalent of shin-kicking at junkets worldwide, I simply couldn’t believe that we were now just a couple of girls playing double Dutch in the courtyard. And yet, that was exactly what we were doing.

  Then at one point in the conversation, and much to my bewilderment, Heath suddenly got up and walked out of the interview and over to the other side of the room. Of course, in my mind, I instantly began to wonder if he was about to Bruce Willis my ass, but no. Heath was a class act. He just grabbed his pack of smokes, then came back and sat down, all the while continuing our conversation, which led to another out-of-character exchange:

  Heath: You know, I think I had the easiest task of anyone else in the movie … (He gets up and walks off camera while continuing to talk.)

  Me: Uh-huh.

  (I follow his movements, trying to figure out if security is seconds away from dragging me out.)

  Heath: I can smoke? Right?

  Me: Absolutely! (In a total sense of wonderment.)

  Heath: If you can say “fuck,” you can smoke a cigarette!!

  Me: I think you’re probably right!! (We both laugh.)

  (He then proceeds to light up on camera, and we continue to just talk about all kinds of random shit. Some of it just fuckin’ around and every so often a little gem.)

  Me: Do you think it’s ever wise to argue with a woman about pain? And who feels more pain?

  Heath: It’s not wise … No. (With a knowing grin.)

  Me: Probably not so much! Do you think you could ever win that battle?

  Heath: Not me. No. I wouldn’t start that battle, either. (I could tell he was talking from experience.)

  He never stopped smiling. He was chuckling the whole time. He never got awkward. He never withdrew. He never disengaged. It was a very atypical interview for him and me. We were both engrossed in a stream of consciousness and just rolled with it. Like a couple of stoners, we had a lovely chat about I don’t even know what, for five minutes. Honestly, I didn’t even care. After years of polite avoidance and artful dodging, Heath and I had finally found our happy place. It’s not somewhere that I had ever been before and it sure wasn’t anywhere that he’d ever been before, but it was a place where we both, somehow, belonged. He even cursed … in his own way and at his own pace, but he did it:

  Me: Your particular version of Dylan though, you kind of got to be the one that maybe most people didn’t know about. He was kind of the jerk of the six characters. How did you feel about playing sort of the asshole Dylan?

  Heath: Oh … FUCK!

  Me: That works, too.

  Heath: Umm … yeah. There you go. It popped out. It was natural.

  Me: It feels good.

  Heath: Yeah! Run with it!!

  And there I was in the presence of one of the most notoriously shy, uncomfortable, and unyielding actors, just hanging out, shooting the shit, and smokin’ a cigarette. I remember walking out of the interview lost in the moment with a big dumb grin on my face. I didn’t know what to make of it then, but I loved every second of it.

  I called Kourosh afterward, feeling very reflective, like I had just witnessed something rare but indefinable. “I wouldn’t say it was the most eventful day, but it was special,” I told him. “I don’t know if anyone else is going to get it. I don’t know if it’s going to resonate. How do we make this work in the context of our edit? What the fuck do we do with this? I just know what it felt like in the room, and it was different. It was really special.” When I got back to LA, we all got together in an edit bay to watch the footage that had left me speechless. There were, maybe, six of us in the room. All of us were quite familiar with the numerous interviews with Heath that had come before and how difficult it had been to engage him. So everyone watched intently, and when it was over, there was a distinct and prolonged silence in the room. We were all thinking the same thing: alien abduction!

  Then Kourosh turned to me and said, “That was somethin’ else. You’ve never been there before. It was so honest and so intimate.” Everyone in the room nodded in agreement, still somewhat stunned. “I say we run it almost as-is. A straight back-and-forth from the second the footage starts to when it ends, even if it’s a bit sloppy.” He continued, “People are either going to get it or they won’t, but we don’t want to fuck with what happened in the room!” So we made the cut and posted it online. It really wasn’t an interview exactly; it was just a special moment in time, and we elected to just let it be. I’m Not There was a small movie, but we were eight months out from Heath’s much-anticipated role as the Joker in The Dark Knight so our piece did well and got a good amount of traction online. But we had no clue how well, and no one could have anticipated the tragedy that lay ahead or the surprising role that we would play in keeping his memory alive.

  Two months after our all-too-brief encounter, Heath Ledger was found dead in his apartment in SoHo from an accidental drug overdose at the age of twenty-eight. I found myself engulfed in a deep melancholy. I felt like we had just been introduced for the first time in New York, and I was so looking forward to the next time … but now it would never come. You couldn’t help but feel this great emptiness. But this horribly sad incident had turned the whole experience into an even more beautiful gift. My immediate thought was to take down the video because it felt opportunistic to leave it up, plus with all the cursing, I didn’t want anyone to misinterpret it as disrespectful. But a couple of weeks later, something completely unexpected happened.

  We started to get inundated with Google alerts about my how my interview with Heath had been posted on dozens and dozens of sites. Needless to say, we were a little concerned about how this was happening because it was not under our control, and more importantly, how it was being received. And that’s where I received the most heartwarming news. It turns out that my interview was quite a hit with Heath’s fans, who had recorded it off of our YouTube channel and started reposting it. We discovered they were including it at the top of their tribute pages and as part of their top five lists of
favorite interviews ever with Heath.

  It didn’t end there. Over the next couple of months, we received countless e-mails thanking us for the best interview ever captured with Heath. I’d definitely never seen him like that before, and apparently neither had his fans. It was an incredible affirmation and one of the most extraordinary things I had ever witnessed. Seeing his fans take such ownership of the video and respond to it so powerfully was beyond words. I knew it was special to me and to us, but I had no idea that I’d captured something so intimate and transcendent. They’d never seen him with his guard down completely, and this was the closest they’d ever felt to him on camera. It made me so happy to think that I may have played some small role in keeping his memory alive. That was, without a doubt, the most humbling and gratifying part of this entire affair.

  Heath and I barely knew each other. We briefly engaged in maybe half a dozen pleasant but unremarkable exchanges over the course of five years. Yet somehow, during the course of five astonishing minutes in November of 2007, it culminated in an awakening that changed everything for me and No Good TV. In Star Trek terms, the extemporaneous convergence of our two lives is the causal nexus between my past and present as well as that of NGTV.

  The entire experience with Heath had opened my eyes to the greater possibilities that lay before NGTV. We were uncensored, yes, but our format wasn’t just about swearing; it was a blueprint for free expression. It began with cursing because that was a bridge to connection and intimacy, which is the path to truth. So our endgame has always been about truth. And through this experience, I came to better understand the nature of truth in the moment, and letting the moment take you to wherever that is. I didn’t need to focus on whether an interview would edit together or if it was funny enough or dirty enough. There are no rules. It didn’t matter if the film was serious or if the actor was solemn and restrained. All I needed to do was to find each person’s happy place, their truth, and spend my time with them, there. The rest would follow and it has ever since.