Daily Beast reporter Gerald Posner reported yesterday that Simon Monjack, the much-maligned husband of Brittany Murphy, is only days away from filing a wrongful-death action against Warner Brothers, claiming that the studio is responsible for the unexpected death of the 32-year-old actress last December. Monjack reportedly told Posner, “They killed her.”
“Although the Los Angeles County Coroner’s Office hasn’t released a final cause of death,” Posner writes, “Monjack and Brittany’s mother, Sharon, who also spoke to me, are convinced that the once-promising star died of a heart attack from the stress caused by Warner Brother’s canceling of a contract just two weeks before she died. Murphy was excited to have begun production on the sequel to the animated hit Happy Feet, but when she was fired by Warner Brothers, Monjack says, ‘She was devastated.'”
I’m sure she was, but Warner Bros. didn’t kill anyone. The entertainment industry can be uncaring and brutal, but any actor who gets into it not knowing how hot the kitchen can be is a flat-out fool. If you can’t stand dealing with Jeff Robinov or if the pressure is generally too much to bear, I understand. I’ll give you a hug and buy you a drink or take you out to dinner. But take responsibility for yourself.
By Monjack’s standard I should have sued my father for instilling in me a sense of low self-esteem due to his emotional aloofness and alcoholism. (Alcoholics are geniuses at screwing up their kids.) Or I could have whined about about what a prick he was in a “Daddy Dearest” book. Instead I woke up one day and said “fuck him — this is my show. I’ll make it or not make it according to my own steam. If I make it, fine. And if I don’t, it’s my fault and not his.”