What it Means to be Fredo or Burning Out as Opposed to Fading Away

Fredo Corleone—sometimes referred to as John Cazale—was in five movies before he died of bone cancer. Each of these movies was nominated for the Academy Award in the Best Picture category, and three won the title. It has occurred to me that (perhaps) John Cazale is the only actor who has ever lived who literally has never made a bad movie, and as it happens, he never will make an unwatchable flick. Perhaps, seen in this context he was lucky to have bone cancer insomuch as it solidified his artistic legacy. However, this is narrow lens with which to view a man’s life. I mean, dying may have been beneficial to Fredo’s artistic legacy but it probably didn’t afford him the chance to do the things most of the rest of us take for granted like marrying Meryl Streep or playing foosball or treating themselves to a drunken night with friends. Now, if I wanted to, I could probably create an argument claiming that it was better for John Cazale to die rather than live (though I don’t actually believe it). Or I could take a similar but more narrow view and suppose that only his career benefited from his untimely demise but that every other area of his life was distorted and swallowed up by his early death. But there’s a problem with this; there’s no way to know whether or not his career benefited or his life would have been better. Maybe his career would have taken off or maybe his life would have tanked. There’s no way to know. Really, all that I know about Fredo Corleone is that he’s smaaaaaat, he coulda been somethin’ too, every one of his movies was nominated for an Oscar, and that the last one probably wasn’t a coincidence. Besides that, what is there to know about an actor who died in 1978?

Dying seems like it probably sucks, but it is also one of the most interesting aspects of the human experience because it is most definitely the only thing that happens to everyone absolutely universally. I think about dying a lot, and I think anyone who claims they don’t is probably lying. And if they’re not lying then they are boring, which in my world, is worse. It’s not that I like to ponder how I’m going to die, but if given the opportunity I’d definitely want to be able to decide how it was going to happen. I’d delight in the opportunity to decide what everyone else would remember about my final minutes, days or years. This brings me back to Fredo. John Cazale died of bone cancer soon after he married Meryl Streep, and I can only assume that it was a painful way to perish. And the sad thing is, He had no control over this outcome. It’s a depressing thought; knowing we aren’t in control of our own existence. It makes me wonder how I’d choose to go. I guess if I could choose, I’d want it to be funny, but not hysterical. Depressing, but not maudlin. It would need to be random, inexplicable even and it would have to happen in a way that could probably have been avoided.

For instance, about a year ago, my friend Nick and I were both mugged exiting a friend’s birthday party. Now, nothing happened (besides Nick’s backpack being stolen), but in that instance when the six of us were fighting and neither Nick nor I knew if our assailants were carrying weapons or not I thought, for an instant, that we could die on McCallister Street in San Francisco without ever really living. This was a shitty feeling. It felt almost as bad as getting hit in the face, which was, coincidentally also happening at the very same time.

So, I began to think about how I’d want to die if it were to happen, and I came up with a solution. I couldn’t eat a bullet like Hunter S. Thompson and I don’t want to fall from grace and die on a toilet like Elvis Aron. Hunter’s death really wasn’t funny or inexplicable. Elvis’ was funny, and inexplicable but the circumstances were just too pathetic. No, I don’t want to go that way.To my mind, it would be much better to have my head pummeled by an angry sea otter or die at the paws of an angry bear, while climbing a mountain. There’s just no way either of those deaths could be thought of in a forlorn fashion. They’re just things that, sort of, happen. They’re occurrences that people will remember years after they actually happen, and in terms much happier than, say, bone cancer. But I can’t help but think about something else now. Perhaps, I am missing the point entirely.

All of this death talk is reminding me of something else entirely, “What does it matter if you die if you’ve never really lived?” In reality , dying isn't really about the person who is gone, but who and what the dead man leaves behind. Only in this way, can people have a legacy that lasts beyond the momentary. Fredo made five great movies, Elvis churned out #1 hit after #1 goofy movie after #1 hit and Hunter S. created the counter-culture of the ‘70’s. In this context, these people will live forever. Maybe, it’s not about how you die after all.