Dear Johnny Depp, You Are Ruining Everything and Breaking Our Hearts
LatestKill your idols. That’s what they say. Never meet your heroes, they’ll only disappoint you. All I know is this: Johnny, I have loved you for so long. Decades. But it’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore.
I’m old enough to remember 21 Jump Street. The first time I saw you, as Detective Tom Hanson, you were wearing glasses, as part of your “undercover” uniform. I thought to myself, That nerd has good cheekbones. But here’s the thing: You had It. That thing, that magnetic, elusive charisma. Star quality. Also, when Hoffs gave you a makeover and then you guys went to go play video games and buy records, my heart skipped a beat: You were down with brown? That curly-haired black chick you’re hanging out with could be me. Honestly? The fact that we’re both Geminis was part of it.
But that was just the beginning. Next, you made an interesting choice for a burgeoning teen posterboy, and took the lead role in the twisted, subversive musical John Waters film Cry-Baby. I was already fully onboard the Waters crazytrain thanks to Hairspray, and your El Vez/James Dean/Marlon Brando/rebel without a clue mashup was swoon-worthy. Campy, deliciously weird, and a hint of what was to come: You were proving that there was something going on under those cheekbones. Not just a pretty face. Not just one of those Hollywood heartthrobs. (I am literally wearing a Cry-Baby T-shirt as I type this, JD.)
Right after that was Edward Scissorhands, in which you absolutely could not rest on that pretty face, since it was obscured and distorted with makeup. That movie broke my heart right open, and my sister and I always say “Hold me”/”I can’t” to each other. An ode to misfits, emo before emo existed, Vincent Price meets Celebration, Florida — Scissorhands remains a classic. The film made it clear that not only were you a True Talent, but you were attracted to the odd, the off, the slightly damaged, the possibly broken inside. Yes. Exactly. Me too.
A series of serious projects followed — Benny & Joon, What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, Dead Man, Donnie Brasco. I watched everything, Johnny. I even watched Nick of Time. Not everything was great, but you bounced around, kept it interesting. Tried, stretched. Even when the flicks sucked, there seemed to be a deeper creative truth you were digging into, at the heart of the art. Meanwhile, your higher profile in Tinseltown meant your love life was making news. And that’s partially what this is about, really. My new-found uncomfortable feelings about you.