Say It Ain't So, Kevbo

Oh, how the once-mighty have fallen. No, I'm not talking about Keith Richards' recent plummet from a coconut tree. I'm talking about the recent allegations pertaining to Kevin Costner's, er, indiscretions at a Scottish spa. I do not intend to devote this entry to the nature of these allegations (N.B.--This blog deals only in oblique references to smutty gossip; if you want the real deal, you'll have to Google elsewhere. I have standards to uphold). Rather, I thought I would take this unfortunate turn of alleged events as an opportunity to cast a look back at the golden era of Costner's stardom and pause for a few moments to wonder where the hell it went and why.

Some fifteen years ago, it seemed Costner's star image would collapse under the weight of its own over-exposure. The man was skyrocketing into ever higher echelons of fame at a seemingly unstoppable rate. Recall the path he blazed to glory between 1988 and 1991: Bull Durham (1988), Field of Dreams (1989), Dances with Wolves (1990--the Best Director award/Best Actor nomination combo was, in hindsight, a harbinger of the madness to come. We can thank Mel Gibson for what we now know about such omens), and Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991). Women around the world between the ages of 24 and 65, including my grade 7 homeroom teacher, succumbed to schoolgirl-like Costner crushes. I remember watching Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves in class and not daring to question its relevance to French-Canadian fur trading routes. As far as my teacher was concerned, if it was Costner, it was kosher.

But then, then...Costner started engaging in some decision making that made us wonder whether he really wanted to hang on to the incomparable fame he had achieved or instead wished to see how quickly it would self-destruct. First, there was The Bodyguard (1992), a supremely odd and overblown picture in which Costner was entirely outshone by the soundtrack (never a good sign). Then, a couple of years later, we got to witness the now-mythical box-office disaster that was Waterworld (which, I actually went to see at the mall theatre with my friends--one of the lowest points of my moviegoing life). By the time The Postman came out in 1997, we knew Costner's days of superstardom were over.

To Costner's credit, it was a glorious, if perhaps overly earnest and oftentimes pretentious, ride. Now, it remains to be seen whether he will allow himself to be defeated by the dual Hollywood foes of scandal and age, or whether he will pull it out of the fire and turn both those foes to his advantage. Which is possible, if he can embrace those invaluable allies of fallen stars, camp and irony. I'd cite the John Travolta-Pulp Fiction precedent here, but, well, that hasn't panned out so good. Maybe Kevin Costner can make a lasting comeback. And hey Mr. C., if you do, make sure to write out clear instructions for Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt on how you managed it. Because in a few years, they're gonna need them (trust me on this one).