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Why Matthew Perry’s death is a watershed moment for millennials

There are other icons who have passed, but Perry was that exact right combination of just-young-enough and not-quite-as-young-as-you-remember to make you really reflect on what his death means to you

Ryan Coogan
Monday 30 October 2023 13:25 GMT
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'The one where we all lost a friend' Heartbroken fans react to Matthew Perry's death

It’s difficult to know exactly how to react when a celebrity dies. In many ways we aren’t really mourning a human being; we’re mourning a role, or a performance that affected us to some degree, sometimes big, sometimes small. Unless we know them personally, we aren’t likely to be sad that they’re not going to be around anymore. It doesn’t affect our everyday.

We’re sad that there won’t be any more movies, or episodes, or songs, or jokes. More than that, I think we’re sad when we are suddenly reminded that we’re getting older; that the person we admired as we were growing up is gone – and so are our childhoods.There’s something very selfish about our grief, in a way.

For most of us, Matthew Perry’s sudden passing is such a shock, not just because he was somebody who entertained us growing up, but because he – and the show he helped create – was such a fixture of our lives for so long.

If you’re a child of the eighties, nineties or 2000s like me (I won’t say which), Friends is one of those TV shows that feels like it’s just always been around. Sure, it ended almost 20 years ago now, but it’s so ingrained in our culture (and Channel 4’s rerun schedule) that it still feels sort of omnipresent. It’s why I don’t think they ever felt the need to do a real reunion show. Why reunite? They’ve always been here.

If you were an anxious kid who used self-deprecating humour to distract bullies growing up (also like me), the character of Chandler Bing was probably your favourite of the group. I’m sure Perry himself would say that he never meant the character to be a role model, but tough luck buddy, you (along with Xander from Buffy) were fundamental in making me and my friends insufferable.

There’s a quote from Perry that’s being shared around on Twitter/X and Facebook at the moment, about what the actor believed his legacy would be after his death. In his memoir released last year, Perry said: “When I die, I know people will talk about Friends, Friends, Friends … When I die, as far as my so-called accomplishments go, it would be nice if Friends were listed far behind the things I did to try to help other people. I know it won’t happen, but it would be nice”.

He’s right. We ran a great piece by Adam Bloodworth yesterday about how Perry’s real enduring legacy would be in his work for those struggling with addiction, and in a material sense that’s absolutely correct to want that. In terms of things that actually matter, there’s infinitely more value in helping one person better themselves than there is in making a million nostalgic millennials cry.

But Perry-as-Chandler represents something to my generation that’s difficult to quantify. He was the blueprint for countless imitations, both in lesser sitcoms and in real life. He created something almost archetypal, and if that sounds like I’m giving too much credit to a comedy character that was already totally Flanderised by season five, I agree. But that’s just how culture works sometimes.

For my generation, this might be the first truly “big” loss we’ve collectively experienced. There are other icons who have passed, sure, but Perry was that exact right combination of just-young-enough and not-quite-as-young-as-you-remember to make you really reflect on your own mortality.

Most of us grew up wanting to be the friends from Friends, and now we’re having to grapple with the fact that, actually, most of us are older than they were in some (or all) seasons of the show. We’re no longer single and ready to mingle. We’re old and ready to fold.

We all know on an intellectual level that things don’t last forever. But, whether we mean to or not, in the backs of our minds we still pretend that they do. Perry’s passing is an unavoidable reminder that, actually, this too shall pass. Maybe it’s already in the process of passing. Maybe some things have already passed, and we didn’t even notice.

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