In the winter of 2009, the actress Brittany Murphy, best known for her iconic roles in Clueless and 8 Mile, died suddenly at the age of 32. I didn’t know Brittany personally, but in many ways, I knew her agony, having also grown up a child actress in the entertainment business. Brittany’s death dislodged something that had long been shaking in my mind about what, exactly, the experience of being an object for a living does to a woman; how dedicating your life—and childhood—to a business that prioritizes a culture built on disposability can be fatal. Shortly after Brittany’s death, I wrote a poem for her that would become the catalyst for a seminal project six years in the making; a book of poems and original artwork on the lives and untimely deaths of young actresses called Dark Sparkler.
Published in the spring of 2015, Dark Sparkler took a visceral look at the lived experiences of these women, as well as their haunting endings. The subjects were wide ranging, from Heather O’Rourke, star of the movie Poltergeist who died at the age of 12 under mysterious circumstances, to Peg Entwistle, who took her life by jumping off the Hollywood sign in the 1930s. These women all experienced varying degrees of fame met with personal demons that capsized their inability to find a way to exist beyond or outside of the cruelties of the entertainment industry.
As someone who spent a predominant amount of my youth in the spotlight, I related to many of these women and their struggles, however different they were from my own. The more I researched and wrote about these women, the more I discovered a desire for my own kind of existential death—of wanting the part of my life that was so wholly focused on acting to end so that my most authentic, creative self could emerge.
To celebrate the 10-year anniversary of Dark Sparkler, the book’s publisher HarperCollins has done a brand-new reprint, complete with the full-color original artwork by luminaries like Marcel Dzama, Adrian Tomine, the late filmmaker David Lynch, and many more.
In celebrating this huge milestone for a book that changed the course of my life, I’m also thinking anew about what women are expected to endure the world over, and across industries—then, and now. We are living in a time of global crisis for women, queer people, and any minority voice that dares to speak truth to power, but my great hope is that we will continue to find ways of resistance against our own silencing, and against the weaponization of our bodies. I hope Dark Sparkler inspires powerful ways to think about our own experiences, tell our own stories on our own terms, and demand they be heard.
Amber Tamblyn Photo Courtesy Of Robin Marchant
