Why We Grieve So Deeply When Celebrities Die: The Psychology Behind Our Attachment.
When Stars Fall: The Recent Loss of Gene Hackman
by Lauro Amezcua-Patino, MD, FAPA and Vincent Perez-Mazzola
The news hit like a shock wave across social media and news outlets: legendary actor Gene Hackman and his wife Betsy Arakawa were found deceased in their Santa Fe home on February 26, 2025, along with their beloved dog. As tributes poured in from Hollywood luminaries like George Takei and Francis Ford Coppola celebrating Hackman’s extraordinary career, I found myself reflecting on a question I’ve encountered repeatedly throughout my practice as a psychiatrist: Why do we often mourn celebrities we’ve never met more intensely than people who actually played active roles in our daily lives?
It’s a phenomenon worth exploring, especially as we witness the collective outpouring of grief for a man whose face we knew intimately but whose hand we never shook.
The Intimacy Illusion: How Celebrities Become “Friends” We’ve Never Met
Think about your favorite TV show growing up. Perhaps it was a sitcom like “Friends” or “Seinfeld” where you spent years watching the same characters navigate life’s challenges. You likely knew their expressions, could predict their reactions, and felt emotionally invested in their journeys. This is the foundation of what psychologists call “parasocial relationships” — one-sided connections where we develop genuine emotional bonds with people we only know through media.
How Parasocial Bonds Form
These connections aren’t superficial — they’re psychologically significant. Consider how this works:
Case Study: The Hackman Effect
Gene Hackman’s films span decades, meaning different generations connected with him through different roles. For some, he was Popeye Doyle in “The French Connection,” a gritty, determined detective fighting against corruption. For others, he was the compassionate but flawed coach Norman Dale in “Hoosiers,” teaching life lessons through basketball. And for younger viewers, he might be remembered as Royal Tenenbaum, the imperfect father seeking redemption.
Through each role, Hackman didn’t just entertain — he reflected pieces of our own humanity back to us. When we watched him portray vulnerability, determination, or moral complexity, we didn’t just see a character; we saw ourselves, our fathers, our mentors, or who we aspired to be.
Real-World Example:
Last year in my practice, I counseled a 45-year-old man who described breaking down in tears when actor Michael J. Fox appeared at an awards ceremony, visibly affected by his Parkinson’s disease. “I don’t understand why I’m more upset about Michael J. Fox’s health than my own uncle who has the same condition,” he confessed. Through our sessions, we uncovered that Fox had been a constant presence during his turbulent adolescence — “Family Ties” and “Back to the Future” provided stability when his family life was chaotic. Fox wasn’t just an actor to him; he represented safety and normalcy during difficult times.
This isn’t rare. These relationships feel real because, neurologically speaking, they partially are. Brain imaging studies show that when we see familiar celebrities, our brains activate similar (though not identical) patterns as when we see actual friends.
The Perfect Version Effect
Unlike real relationships, our connections with celebrities come without complications. We see them at their most polished, their most prepared, their most inspiring. We don’t experience their bad moods, prejudices, or mundane habits.
Gene Hackman, throughout his interviews and public appearances, presented as thoughtful, humble, and principled. We never had to negotiate bills with him, disagree about politics at Thanksgiving dinner, or feel disappointed when he forgot our birthday.
Example in Practice:
In group therapy sessions focusing on grief, participants often express surprise at how “perfect” their memories of deceased celebrities are compared to the complex, sometimes difficult memories of departed family members. One participant noted: “When David Bowie died, I only remembered the joy his music brought me. When my father died, I remembered both the love and the arguments.”
This “perfect version” effect creates an idealized relationship — one without the normal friction of human interaction. When these figures pass away, we mourn not just the person but the idealized relationship we’ve constructed.
Cultural Touchstones: Mourning Our Collective Memory
Celebrities aren’t just individuals — they’re cultural landmarks that help us navigate our own personal histories. When we mourn Gene Hackman, we’re also mourning a connection to specific moments in our lives: the first time we watched “The French Connection” with our college roommates, the summer we binge-watched his films during a difficult breakup, or how “Hoosiers” inspired us to persevere through challenges.
Personal Reflection:
I remember vividly where I was when news broke of Kobe Bryant’s tragic helicopter crash in January 2020. I was at a coffee shop preparing notes for a lecture when my phone began buzzing incessantly with notifications. The coffee shop gradually filled with quiet conversations about the news. Later that week, I appeared on a television program discussing the psychological impact of his death. Viewers called in with deeply personal stories — how Kobe had inspired them through difficult times, how his “Mamba Mentality” had helped them push through personal challenges, how they had used his example to teach their children about dedication.
None of these people had met Kobe Bryant. Yet his death created a shared moment of grief that connected strangers. This illustrates another crucial aspect of celebrity mourning: it’s communal in a way that private grief often isn’t.
The Mortality Mirror: Confronting Our Own Impermanence
When a celebrity who has been present throughout our lives dies, particularly one who has aged before our eyes like Gene Hackman, we’re confronted with our own mortality. Hackman himself expressed discomfort about aging and watching his later movies, emphasizing fears about passing and concerns for his family’s future well-being.
This mirror effect is powerful. If someone who seemed larger than life — someone whose presence has been a constant — can suddenly be gone, what does that mean for us?
Clinical Observation:
In the weeks following major celebrity deaths, therapists often report an increase in sessions focused on mortality anxiety and life review. After Robin Williams’ death by suicide in 2014, suicide prevention hotlines saw call increases of up to 100%. The death had prompted widespread reflection not just on Williams himself, but on depression, mental health, and the fragility of life.
The Community of Grief: Finding Connection in Shared Loss
One of the most significant differences between celebrity mourning and private grief is the communal nature of the former. When a beloved public figure dies, millions simultaneously experience similar emotions. This creates a shared grief space that can be profoundly comforting.
Social media transforms into impromptu memorial sites. News channels run special tributes. Friends text each other shocked reactions. In these moments, we’re reminded that we’re not alone in our feelings — that our connection to this person, while personal, was also part of something larger.
Example in Practice:
After David Bowie’s death in 2016, impromptu memorial gatherings formed in cities worldwide. In London, fans gathered in Brixton where Bowie was born. In Berlin, they assembled outside the building where he recorded some of his most influential albums. In New York, bouquets piled up outside his apartment. Complete strangers embraced, shared stories, and found comfort in their shared admiration.
Contrast this with the often-isolated experience of losing a neighbor or teacher. While personally impactful, these losses don’t generate the same collective acknowledgment. There are no hashtags trending worldwide, no special news segments. This can create what psychologists term “disenfranchised grief” — mourning that lacks social recognition and support.
The Ordinary Heroes: Honoring Those Closest to Us
While celebrity deaths capture headlines, it’s often the passing of those who directly touched our lives that creates the deepest voids. The teacher who believed in us when no one else did. The neighbor who checked in during difficult times. The coach who pushed us to discover strengths we didn’t know we possessed.
These individuals may not have worldwide fame, but their impact is immeasurable in its directness and permanence. They shaped us through actual interaction, not through a screen or speaker.
Real-World Example:
In community bereavement groups I’ve facilitated, participants frequently express guilt over not adequately honoring “ordinary” losses. One woman shared how her community rallied when a local celebrity died in a car accident, creating scholarships and memorial events. Yet when her children’s beloved school janitor passed away — a man who had known every child’s name and quietly supported countless students — his death warranted only a small obituary and modest funeral.
This disparity doesn’t mean our grief for celebrities is invalid. Rather, it highlights the need to create more robust acknowledgment systems for the everyday heroes who shape our lives directly.
Finding Balance: Honoring All Forms of Loss
Understanding why we grieve celebrities so intensely can help us navigate our emotional responses more thoughtfully. Here are some ways to approach this complex emotional terrain:
- Acknowledge the legitimacy of parasocial grief. These connections, while one-sided, represent real emotional investments and their loss deserves recognition.
- Use celebrity mourning as an opportunity for reflection. When grieving a public figure, ask yourself what specifically about them touched you. What values or qualities did they represent in your life?
- Create rituals for “ordinary” losses. Just as we have public memorials for celebrities, consider how to meaningfully honor those whose impact was personal rather than public.
- Recognize grief as evidence of connection. Whether mourning a global icon or a friendly neighbor, grief demonstrates our capacity for attachment and caring — qualities worth celebrating.
Conclusion: The Beautiful Complexity of Human Connection
The phenomenon of celebrity mourning reveals profound truths about human psychology — our need for narrative, our desire for connection, and our search for meaning through shared experience. When we understand the mechanisms behind these feelings, we can approach them with greater compassion, both for ourselves and others.
Gene Hackman’s passing reminds us that stars, for all their brilliance and seeming permanence, are ultimately as mortal as the rest of us. His films — from “The French Connection” to “Unforgiven” to “The Royal Tenenbaums” — will continue to move audiences for generations to come, creating new parasocial bonds with viewers not yet born.
Meanwhile, in communities around the world, countless “ordinary” individuals are making direct, meaningful impacts that may never be recognized on magazine covers or in trending hashtags. Their contributions, while less visible, are no less valuable.
