"Evil Dead," for those of you who might not know, is a low-budget B-series of horror films involving a bunch of college students trapped in a cabin possessed by an unseen evil force. The films are campy horror at its finest.
One of the ardent fans of the series is one of my roommates -- we'll call him "Bill" to preserve his anonymity. Not only has Bill seen the movies, he owns the movie posters. He could probably write down the entire dialogue of the movie verbatim. He even has the 18-inch Ash talking action figure that looks precisely like Mr. Campbell's character from the movies.
Just given the amount of memorabilia Bill has directly based on the "Evil Dead," I'm not quite sure if Bill has immense admiration or borderline obsession for the man and his body of work. I enjoy a good cheesy horror movie as much as the next guy, but Bill takes it to a whole new level.
Like many athletes, actors, actresses and political leaders, Mr. Campbell is a heroic figure to many of his fans. Not so much Bruce Campbell the man but the characters Mr. Campbell plays in his films and television shows. Hero worship is far from a new thing, however, and has existed since at least the time of ancient Greece.
Whether it's Bruce Campbell or Derek Jeter, I think we treat all our varied types of heroes similarly. These people serve several purposes for their fans. First, they provide that measuring stick with which one can compare. Since these people are at the pinnacle of their crafts, we often laud them for being the best at what they do while sometimes striving to reach that same position.
Their work also provides a means of escapism from the daily 9-5 Dilbert-esque cubicle existence many of us grind through. We all wish deep down that we were the guy who wins the World Series with a home run for his team or fights off an army of zombies with a chainsaw for a hand and gets the girl at the end.
This form of escapism explains much of the success of several movies -- particularly the Bond films. Though short on plot or anything else redeeming, these movies are long on gunfights, explosions, car chases, scantily clad women, and always the fate of the world hangs in the balance.
I'll never forget a few years ago when a friend of mine, who happened to be a life-long Green Bay Packers fan, and I had the chance to meet legendary Packers quarterback Bart Starr. My friend could barely speak to the man when they were introduced. I was amazed at how someone who was meeting his idol could struggle so mightily in merely saying his own name, much less carry on any semblance of a conversation.
What I failed to realize then, however, was the trouble fans have in communicating their appreciation for their heroes. These people have often greatly influenced the lives of their fans, and the fans often struggle in finding a way to reciprocate that appreciation in a rational, non-stalker fashion.
