From IA to LA: The Hillbilly Takes Hollywood: Why Is the Last One So Good?

"Because we do not know when we will die, we get to think of life as an
inexhaustible well. And yet, everything happens only a certain number of times. And a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood? An afternoon that is so deeply a part of your being that you cannot conceive of your life without it? Perhaps 4...5 times more? Perhaps not even that. How many times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless."
- Brandon Lee, interviewed on the set of The Crow

The last performance. It’s something that I’m sure every entertainer nearing the end of the road thinks about. “When is it going to be the last one?” The last film. The last album. The last time that they will be able to stamp their work into the collective notebook of artistic culture. It isn’t difficult to imagine an eighty-something performer hovering over a script, prying apart every syllable of his dialogue, making sure that every word he speaks on screen will translate into a career-defining film; probably his last. When you know it’s your last, how could you not want it to be perfect?

But what about the people that don’t know it’s their last?

How come the last performance before an actor passes on always seems to be their best? Perhaps it’s just the natural progression of things. After all, most actors should only get better with each film because they are evolving and growing in their craft. Still, I can think of a great many names that peaked early in their career and started slowly dropping off from there. Maybe they knew subconsciously that it was going to be the last one; the whispers of death came long before the rattle. Whatever the case, there’s no shortage of phenomenal last performances. In fact, a lot of “last ones” are also the “best ones”—not just of their particular career, but in the history of the medium as a whole.

Of course, the name that should already be on the minds of those of you reading this is Heath Ledger. His final performance as the disturbingly sinister/psychotic Joker in The Dark Knight will no doubt become one of the most revered performances of all time. A lot of critics have said that it’s hard to take your eyes off of Heath while he’s on screen. No, it’s impossible, actually. The one thought that swept through the canals of my brain during my first viewing of The Dark Knight: “This is the same guy that was singing ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’ to Julia Styles on a set of bleachers while simultaneously Three Stooge-ing his way through a police officer foot chase in 10 Things I Hate About You?” How does one transform oneself from the simple, Australian heartthrob of romantic comedies to an unsettling, stringy-haired menace that has haunted every nightmare since the film’s release?

But Heath Ledger isn’t the only shining star to be ripped from the sky just after lighting a whole new path for itself. A father and son became a part of this unfortunate blueprint not all that long ago. Bruce and Brandon Lee, martial arts superstars, passed away during the filming of two separate-but-equally groundbreaking movies. Enter the Dragon singlehandedly brought the fast-paced kicks and punches of Hong Kong to American cinemas. The Crow paved a path for the darker, dirtier type of superhero franchise and may have quite possibly allowed Heath Ledger the opportunity to be the type of character that The Joker became. Both careers were jumping out of obscurity and into a major spotlight.

It’s not just in film that “the last one” seems to overshadow everything that came before it. Louis Armstrong’s last recorded song was “What a Wonderful World,” a quintessential ballad of optimism that detailed the simple and pure things in life as well as the bright future beyond the horizon. He passed on less than 3 years later. Kurt Cobain released his most artistically-praised album with Nirvana in 1993, less than a year before his death. Jim Morrison and Jimi Hendrix each made some of their most memorable music just prior to packing their bags and heading for the clouds. Johnny Cash’s final album, American V: A Hundred Highways, ranked #1 on the Billboard Charts, the only time since 1971.

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So what is it? Is there some rule that God has stating that a man cannot live through his own legacy? It’s all probably a little idealistic. To hope that everyone gets such a great send-off into the afterlife. To think that “the last one” is always the best one. But perfection speaks for itself and, in some cases, performers are lucky enough to have their final work become what they’re best known for. It’s just a shame that they didn’t get the chance to see how much impact they had.