What Do We Want from Our Child Stars?

"The first thing the child actor discovers is universal love, quickly followed by universal hatred. The whipsaw between the two leaves a mark, even after the stage or set is abandoned. The universal love is the applause, either heard in person or received from afar, a love reinforced by the sense of an instant, intimate family-a life backstage or in the trailer, far more interesting than the often unhappy family left behind. The grown actors who share dressing rooms have war stories to tell and, whether they mean to or not, project an intoxicating air of adult possibility. The universal hatred comes from the child star's coevals, whose curiosity about the occupation is mingled with resentment."

"As a result, child actors never really grow up, or, more precisely, having grown up once, early, like a forced flower, they stay the age they were when their careers ended. No one is more permanently precocious than a former child star. Their memoirs begin with the blaze of unexpected adoration, then turn to the sting of resentment, and end with the slow burn of "aging out." Even when the loss is small-a cancelled show, a vanished agent-the comeback, whether as a TV regular or a life coach, can't live up to that first blaze."

Child actors experience intense, immediate adoration followed by sharp resentment from peers and sometimes teachers. Backstage life creates a surrogate family and adult possibility that contrasts with unhappy home situations. The oscillation between applause and hostility leaves lasting psychological marks, and many former child stars remain stuck at their youthful stage after careers end. Memoirs commonly trace a trajectory from early fame through envy and exploitation to the difficulty of "aging out." Attempts at comebacks or new careers rarely recapture the original intensity of early success despite smaller losses or role changes.

Read at The New Yorker