By Kitty Killy
Thankfully, the media storm is, for the moment, at rest. Though she died February 6th, the
funeral of Anna Nicole Smith, 39, happened three weeks later, on March 3nd. Cause of death was undetermined. Her stomach was found free of pills, but her fridge was a cornucopia of pills, Slim-Fast, and methadone.
E! called it "one of the most publicized funerals the world has ever seen," and that was the case. But none of us saw the party. Though cameras caught the motorcade of black limos and hearse carrying the former model's body to the Miami airport, then to the cemetery in the Bahamas, the funeral itself was hidden from the prying eyes of the media, the grave and mourners shrouded in black tents. But first was the service, a real media circus.
We did get a red carpet event, of sorts. Slash from G-n-R was there. His hair, flat. His hat, somber. A red carpet was rolled up to the white hearse, and the mahogany casket, adorned with a pink velvet blanket tricked out with ribbons and feathers, was carried inside to the Baptist church. The casket was never opened, so her final gown, designed by Pol Atteu, went unseen. Anna's daughter Dani Lynn was not there. Anna's mother, Howard Stern, and Larry Birkhead all gave eulogies.
E! scored an interview with someone who was at the service - Kathryn Beranich, the supervising producer of E!'s Anna Nicole Show, which was a trainwreck (read the recaps on TelevisionWithoutPity.com). She said the minister admonished the warring factions for not allowing Anna's body to be laid to rest in a timely fashion. Nice detail, Kathryn.
So, the custody battle for Anna's daughter still rages on. Anna's cause of death is still unknown; the results are reported to be released next week. But what does this all mean? And what will Anna be known for? Her Guess campaign? Being the first trophy wife (I'm being kind, I know) to take her case to get her late husband's inheritance all the way to the Supreme Court? Or will it be for this? This flurry of enthusiasm for the gruesome details on how she died,
and what she wore, and how her son Daniel died, and who her baby's daddy is? And that the baby is potentially worth hundreds of millions of dollars.
The U.S. courts have turned the paternity decision over to Bahamian courts. It will be up to them to decide, with DNA evidence or not, with whom Dani Lynn will grow up. Howard Stern retains custody, but this matter will come to court in a few weeks. And Anna's Bahamian home has become a tourist attraction. Tourism dollars flood into the island. But who really wins? And who gets the last word?
The last word on this may take years to come out, and we may never hear it. But Larry Birkhead, paparazzi photographer and Anna's boyfriend of almost two years, got his own saccharine-sweet special on Bravo, "Larry Birkhead: Good Night, My Sweet Anna Baby." This is what he said to her before she went to sleep each night.
With a swollen, tear-stained face, Larry dished and gave little commercial bumps to the retail outlets and pop culture bits that had fueled their relationship. And the tensions therein. Like, that they met at a Kentucky Derby party. And the movie that she made him watch over and over, that reminded her of their relationship was "War of the Roses." And that when he "noticed" she seemed pregnant, she told him to get on Tiffany & Company's website to get her a ring. She wanted to rank the rings available from price highest to lowest; he wanted to rank them lowest to highest. "Our fingers went back and forth," he said.
After Anna married Howard Stern, he was pushed out of the picture, and had to see Dani's pictures in the tabloids, "kinda like the average consumer, there was nothing special for me."
When Anna died, Birkhead told Bravo he wanted to go save her. But he couldn't. He launched into his paternity battle. He has met Dani Lynn; the baby smiled, burped, and spit up on Birkhead.
In our oversaturated media age, we are exposed to a lot of detail with not enough context or reason. Like, Britney Spears freaking out. None of us know why. None of us will. Her own family may not even know what's happening inside her head. Which leads me to wonder: why are so many celebrities celebrated for being batshit crazy, instead of for producing a product, like a movie or a record, that people enjoy? I will attempt to answer.
1. We like to watch people go nuts. And people love to talk shit about other people, be they our friends, or people we don't know.
So, why do they so often unravel before our eyes? Is it because fame, when mismanaged, on its own, corrupts irreversibly? Or does all that shit-talk get in the air and somehow make a person nuttier than they are?
1. If they're not focused on their craft or work, probably.
Mass media is a commercial entity. Magazines know that stars need them for coverage for their product. In our post-modern age, some are lucky enough (or the opposite) to have made careers of being tabloid fodder. Like Paris Hilton.
But enough about her. Britney is a more perfect example. After her last tour tanked, she produced Chaotic, a TV show about her whirlwind romance with Kevin Federline, and has remained in the spotlight without doing anything that put her there. Now, she's completely melted down, and we see it all; her shaved head, her shaved puss, her popping in and out of clubs, and rehab. And we don't know why she does it. It just distracts us, from our own lives, and from the world and all that's in it.
It isn't just my theory that the mass media runs with stories that have a lot of juicy footage - like the Jon Benet Ramsey murder, which had too many images of a child blonde, both beauty pageant contestant, daughter, and pedophile's dream. Never mind that too many less photogenic children are killed, their murders also unsolved, every day. That story had tons of tape to roll on TV.
As does this one. Anna's death and her son Daniel's death are tragic and mysterious. Baby Dani Lynn still doesn't have a final family, and when she comes into her potential millions of dollars, imagine the media circus that will start up around her. It's even worse than Frances Bean Cobain, the half-orphaned child heir to not only fortune, but a deep sadness and too much meaningless publicity. Good night, Anna Nicole.
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