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Brigitte Bardot and the complexity of mourning celebrity

The French movie star’s death sparked sadness and scorn, as her right-wing politics mark a complicated legacy. 

You might now Brigitte Bardot for her blonde bombshell looks – with voluminous golden hair so infamous that she arguably cemented ‘French Girl Chic’ into modern parlance.

Even if you haven’t watched any of her films, which include And God Created Woman and La Parisienne, images of Bardot in a plunging bikini are ingrained in pop culture and still influence today’s beauty standards.

Despite achieving global fame, Bardot gave up acting relatively early in her career and spent the rest of her life devoted to animal rights activism – a detour that made her all the more endearing to her fans. But the late French star left a complicated legacy when she died at the end of December.

Her passing inspired the usual outpourings of grief and condolence from across the internet – and given Bardot achieved the same silver screen status as legends Marylin Monroe and Audrey Hepburn, messages came from far and wide. The singer Chappell Roan posted a photo of the actor on Instagram with the caption ‘Rest in peace Ms Bardot’.

But the message was short-lived. The next day, Roan’s post was deleted with the explanation that she was unaware of ‘all that insane shit Ms. Bardot stood for.’

Bardot’s history may be defined by her on-screen career, her beehived hair, or even her work with animals. But it’s her politics that left the biggest impression on those they directly confronted. Bardot was a life-long racist, homophobic, and xenophobic far-right commentator. Her ugly comments toward various demographics – written across various memoirs and texts – even landed her in legal trouble.

Her 1999 book Pluto’s Square, in which Bardot criticised Muslim practices of ritualistic sheep slaughter during Eid, and wrote that her homeland of France was being overrun by ‘foreigners, especially Muslims’, landed the actor a fine of €1,500.

She also criticised interracial marriage, immigration, the role of women in politics, queer communities, and Islam.

That many of us will only have become aware of this sordid history now Bardot has passed is telling of how we remember celebrities; how we craft specific narratives of them in the halls of fame and history.

It conjures the age-old question of how we separate the art from the artist. We ask ourselves whether there is an ethical way to enjoy certain things a person left behind whilst neatly avoiding others.

Woody Allen still enjoys a life outside of prison despite various accusations made against him and his highly controversial relationship with wife Soon-Yi Previn. Chris Brown continues to fill stadiums even after violently attacking his ex-partner Rihanna in 2009. Look back at the canon of art, music, theatre and film, you’ll have filled a basket with bad apples before you know it.

But Bardot’s death feels different. Not because she was uniquely harmful, but because her passing exposed a growing refusal to engage in the polite forgetting that celebrity culture once relied upon.

When a famous person dies, we are conditioned to respond with respect, if not silence. There is an unspoken rule that death absolves, or at least softens, moral scrutiny. But for many younger audiences, mourning is no longer automatic. This instinct increasingly clashes with a digital culture that archives everything, and an internet that remembers what we might prefer to forget.

This is not about demanding moral purity from public figures, nor about retroactively cancelling the dead. It is about resisting the urge to flatten a life into a highlight reel when we’re blinded by stardom. To acknowledge that Bardot could be both a feminist icon to some and a symbol of exclusion to others is a necessary interrogation of our collective amnesia.

Celebrity culture thrives by selling us archetypes: the rebel, the muse, the humanitarian. But complexity disrupts the fantasy. And so we are often asked to choose one version of a person and stick with it.

But perhaps the more honest response to a death like Bardot’s is discomfort. Mourning, after all, does not have to be an endorsement. And criticism does not negate grief. If we are going to continue elevating cultural figures to mythic status, we should at least be willing to tell the whole story. Not just what they gave us, but what they took from others.

Many of us will write ‘Rest in Peace Brigitte Bardot’ and share neat soundbites on our social media profiles in the coming weeks. And yet Ms Bardot will not be missed. The world may have been changed by her work, but it will be a better place without her politics.

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