For millions, Hugh Laurie will only be known as the curmudgeonly doctor on the long-running US medical drama House, M.D.
For me, along with his comedy partner Stephen Fry, he was a big part of my growing up, an incisive comic talent whose work I still turn to today whenever I want to pull myself out of a funk, or just remind myself how playful, intricate and downright silly life can be.
He was often cast as the daft fool opposite the dry Fry, and his talent for physical comedy cannot be denied, but his subtlety and penchant for absurdist humour easily matched his other half’s.
His musical talents were always put to good use throughout the four series of their sketch show, A Bit of Fry and Laurie
It’s one that has obviously stuck with people, as during an appearance on Inside The Actor’s Studio after House launched him to worldwide fame, he performed the song for the delighted audience once again.
This sketch is another of my favourites, This Woman Is Very Upset, in which he combines the deadpan serious tone of a news reporter with exquisitely-timed facial expressions worthy of the best of the silent era:
When I first found out that Hugh Laurie had experienced periods of severe depression, I’m not sure what I felt. I guess I’d always felt “closer” to Stephen Fry because his very candid autobiography Moab Is My Washpot
One part of his depression anecdote really stood out for me at the time. He was driving in a charity demolition derby in the mid-1990s and realised that he was experiencing no emotional reaction to what was going on around him, and when you consider that said action included exploding cars, he realised that something wasn’t right.
Being a Woody Allen nerd, I even knew that there was a clinical term for this: anhedonia. Anhedonia is defined as “the inability to experience from activities usually found enjoyable”. Allen had it marked down as the original title of perhaps his most famous film, Annie Hall
I didn’t really understand Laurie’s lack of reaction to explosions until fairly recently, when I came to the realisation that depression itself has a spectrum. At one end, you’ve got the looming darkness and despair, but at the ‘upper’ end you’ve got indifference. A numbness that just sits there, making you feel like a squatter in your own body.
Laurie’s disclosure of his experiences with depression were a perfect fit for some with his nihilistic TV character, House – “ah, so that’s where he gets it from”. Given his long career as a comedian, I think the co-relation is irrelevant. As many people who have been bereaved by suicide now, it’s often the ‘happy’ ones you’ve got to watch out for.
What did sadden me was finding an interview where Laurie said he regretted speaking out about his depression:
“I don’t like to be thought of as this guy who has nothing else to talk about except how miserable my lot was. I remember watching Mel Gibson on some show once, and he was being asked about his belief in the afterlife. Gibson said, ‘Well I can’t believe this is all there is.’ And I thought, ‘Wait a minute. You’re Mel Gibson. You have millions of dollars. You’re a great-looking chap with every conceivable blessing that could be bestowed upon a man. And that’s not good enough?’
“So you can see why I’m hesitant to talk aboiut any trivial pain I have. I find myself going, ‘Oh for god’s sake, Hugh. Pull yourself together.’”
In the same interview, he qualified his statement by saying that depression wasn’t something that should be taken lightly, but my 10-cent psychoanalysis of his comments suggests to me that there’s a big dose of self-stigma lumped in with Laurie’s depression, the same kind that all of us experience.
My problems aren’t as big as X person, so I should just shut up really. Diagnosis by comparison has kept too many people from getting the help they need, and thankfully Laurie didn’t let it stop him from reaching out.
His regrets about being candid are no doubt fuelled by ignorant columnists who talk about such interviews as if mental illness is some sort of designer accessory that celebrities wish to acquire in order to boost their status. Stephen Fry has hit back at this kind of damaging dismissal.
We need people who are part of our pop culture to be honest about mental illness and their experiences. Comparatively, I know that my life in terms of food, shelter and medical support is exponentially greater than that of a starving child in Africa, but none of that changes the fact that my brain chemistry is screwed. Perception is everything when you have a mood disorder.
I spoke to a friend last night who had disclosed his experiences with depression, and upon opening up to people in his workplace found that many others had too. Rather than causing greater honesty, it had a ‘secret club’ effect, with people asking each other for medication and therapy advice in hushed tones over coffee and in corridors.
We need this to stop, and for meaningful conversation about mental illness to have as much impact as a belly laugh from the work of a talented comedian like Hugh Laurie.
Anyone who has suffered from depression will recognise the truth of this. anyone who hasn’t, who is of the ‘Pull yourself together man’ school, ought to read it and apologise.
This is an excellent and helpful post. Thank you.
Reblogged this on cookiedmouse's Blog.
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I think I just hurt a rib I was laughing so hard at that Mystery song. It’s been quite a crap week and I needed that so THANK YOU.
It’s so good, isn’t it?
This is a wonderful post. I love both Fry and Laurie, and how open Stephen is about his illness. Hugh’s quote makes me sad, too. Of all people, he should understand that *nothing* is enough when in the grips of one’s illness. But, maybe he just didn’t want to be labeled as “that depressed Brit.” Who knows?
I’ve been asked to speak at different gatherings about bipolar disorder, and there are *always* folks who come up to me afterward who either suffer themselves or have someone they love who suffers. The relief in their faces is so touching.
Everyone always thinks they’re the only one, which clearly shows we don’t talk about it enough.
I do not believe that the term mental illness is remotely useful to describe something as complex as any “apparent” aberration of the brain. Once you call something an illness you are in denial of the deep root of your problem in exactly the same way that any medical term for physical dis- ease is a denial of the problem and a passing of responsibility for dealing with it to a doctor. How can someone who is essentially a salesman for drug companies possible get to the root of why you are out of balance unless he and you are open to ALL possibilities and every possible approach to truly healing it. If you call alcoholism a disease then you are always in remission and the same is true of depression. I never believed that my “depression” was an illness or that what I experienced was a product of a defective brain which is why I have gained mastery of it, truly learned from it and it has helped me to unleash my true potential
Perhaps Mr. Laurie is sorry that he spoke out about his depression, but I wonder if he realizes how many he may have helped by doing so.
I am usually very open and honest about suffering from depression with people around me. Of late I am going through a bad time? Episode? Down? and can’t sometimes leave the house and little things have become a big deal (this has never happened before) Prior to this skid down hill I volunteered to coach my son’s football team and now find I can’t bring myself to do it, the thought fills me with fear and anxiety but wierdly, for me, I have been totally incapable of saying to the rest of the team, sorry I can’t do it I am having major mental health issues. Instead my husband , bless him, is going to tell them I can’t do it due to health issues. What is bizarre is that I am friends with a lot of the parents and they know I suffer from depression, its just this time I feel to ashamed to say anything.
Maybe you feel like you’re letting people down? If it helps you think about it any differently, let’s imagine you literally skidded down a hill and broke both your legs. Do you think you would feel as bad not being able to coach the team then? A mental injury like the onset of a depressive episode is no different to this, except for the shame we feel about it ourselves and the shame imposed upon us by others. I wish you the best in your recovery, Hayley. Things like this are crappy, but they’re part and parcel of living with depression and you will get better.
Talking to others about experiences with depression and addiction has become part of my life but I’m always looking out the corner of my eye, gauging the reactions and adjusting the level of disclosure, you know? A big bugbear for me right now, looking for a job, is knowing full well that ultimately all will become known in any workplace (because that is who I am), and yet having to present a desirable “best thing since sliced bread” persona for the interview process… I find it so daunting that whatever come, I may just have to go it alone. Can hardly tell an employer that the past two years of recovery have made me a better person, ’cause thats the truth no one wants to hear.
At the end of the day, it will come down to the level of trust you have between you and your employer. Sometimes even if you disclose from the start, if the trust isn’t there and they want to screw you over, they will find a way. If not mental illness, then something else. Trust your instincts and do your research before going for an interview – find out as much as you can about the company and its culture.