As something of an implicit footnote to Brett Easton Ellis’s diagnosis of post-Empire celebrity, it’s worth remembering that if you’ve relied on the [whatever]sphere to raise you up, then it retains the power to swiftly lower you back down again, and that your fame may not translate from your native medium to all the others as you rush to monetize your moment in the sun. (Your best bet seems to be to attempt to recreate the medium in which you were successful within the confines of your new beachhead.)
Bob Lefsetz has a typically grandstanding analysis of Sheen’s attempts to jump the gap and become a brand/meme independent of the hierarchical Hollywood-and-TV world:
Charlie Sheen made the mistake of thinking the audience was on his side. This is what happens when you descend from your showbiz perch, step out of the television and enter the realm of the people, you find out we’re all equal. And that if you don’t give a great presentation, we tear you down from your peak.
Let this be a lesson. If you’re one of the privileged, don’t intersect with the public. Fly private, live behind a gate or a guard, avoid publicity. Because the throng is there, waiting to pounce on every misstep.
Don’t equate the initial demand for Charlie Sheen’s live tour with longevity. It was a stunt, no different from Bobby Riggs playing tennis with Billie Jean King. To do it again is just creepy. You made your money, go home.
But someone at Live Nation was only thinking about money. Connecting fame with theatres. There was no consideration of show, of value for money, only gross receipts. That’s how low we’ve sunk.
But the public is not having any of it.
To a certain extent (and to take a very very callous view of things), Sheen was unlucky enough to be upstaged by a media event of quite literally earth-shaking proportions. But even had the earthquake/tsunami/nuclear-crisis combo not rolled in from the outfield and stolen the top slot on the global meme-stack, he’d not have lasted long. A one-trick pony should never try to top the bill.