Some men are just blessed with an irresistible everyman appeal. Male, female, straight, gay, we understand their currency so implicitly that it shapes the story of stardom. These men feel so comfortable in their fame, so entirely predisposed to being looked at, it’s as if they were guided to it by some strange celestial light. Matt LeBlanc had it for the final three years of Friends; Idris Elba for the first three of Luther; Robbie Williams just after Take That. But nobody embodied that extra special everyman authenticity with quite the fundamental flair of Bruce Willis.
Hearing yesterday of Willis’s early retirement at 67, due to the debilitating communicative disorder Aphasia, felt like the same gut punch as the recent news of the cosmetic procedures which forced Linda Evangelista to step away from the camera. These people were exquisite incarnations of all of us. Their disappearance from public view, however stoic and dignified, is a moment of shared sadness because it prompts a pause for us all to think about the passing of time, the grit in the balm and wisdom of ageing. It’s a reminder that nobody is invincible, however they might publicly present otherwise.
