For Erin Kelly, being a fan of Steve Carell isn’t about just the laughs. It’s about growth and gratefulness.
–––
From the moment I could pick up a pencil, I’ve always known I was different. I knew I was much more different than any action or word could explain. I knew my cerebral palsy made me different, but I thought that was a given. I started “coloring outside the lines” at a very young age. Then I started to notice that the lens I was using to look at the world wasn’t the same as everyone else’s—and it still isn’t.
While everyone seems to have their eyes fixated on ”the big picture”, I’ve always been the one examining the tiny pixels that make up that picture. I’m the one who laughs the loudest in a room of one or one hundred—and I’m always the one who, regardless of how small, obsolete or silly, always finds a quality in something or someone that others miss.
I don’t know where that comes from. In fact, I don’t know where any of my traits or habits originate from, as I was adopted from Seoul, Korea at eleven months old. All I know is what I have in my life now. It would be easy for me to say my cerebral palsy is the starting point for everything I’ve ever learned. It might be even easier to blame my cerebral palsy for who I am emotionally and intellectually, but that wouldn’t be fair.
♦◊♦
I could blame everything on my disability, and it still wouldn’t scratch the surface of who I am on the inside. So, when people ask me who I am other than being a writer, I smile because they don’t expect me to say, “pro wrestling enthusiast”, “tomboy” or “Steve Carell fan”.
The pro wrestling part really catches people off guard—and I understand why. Granted, wresting is the reason I became a huge fan of Dwayne Johnson, whose principles I’ve molded my life after. However, it’s taken me a while to understand why people always seemed to be left scratching their heads every time I said I loved Steve. Everyone who’s ever been close to me thought I was joking. They laughed it off, because they knew I was such a big fan of WWE and often took a liking to muscle men with tattoos. Steve obviously didn’t fit that mold, but I didn’t care.
The very first movie of his that I watched was the big-screen adaptation of Get Smart in 2008. At the time, I was just happy that Dwayne’s name was on the cast list, and went to see the movie for that sole reason. I looked up some of Steve’s older work and press junket interviews when I got home later that night. I don’t know if it was his quick wit or his sheer ability to be genuine that I gravitated towards—or maybe it was both—but something inside me clicked.
♦◊♦
I just liked how he carried himself and felt I could relate to him in a very odd yet profound way. This was way, way out of my norm. I didn’t want anyone to know Steve was slowly making his way onto my list of favorite people ever. Part of me felt embarrassed, because I admittedly had this “macho-man” image of what a Hollywood actor should be stuck in my head from spending many Monday nights in front of my TV watching wrestling. That image was beginning to be replaced by a hairy, average-sized “every man” from Massachusetts—and I thought if anyone knew, it would be like admitting to my best friend that I was secretly a fan of The Backstreet Boys or NSYNC.
When 2011 rolled around and Crazy, Stupid, Love was released in theaters, however, critics started to see an entirely different side of Steve’s abilities as an actor. That was when I began to “connect the dots”, as it were. He’d ever taken on a role like this before, in which he played a father who’s trying to glue pieces of his life together in the wake of a divorce.
I heard that his character in Little Miss Sunshine was pretty dark, but hadn’t watched the movie before this I remember reading a seemingly endless string of articles that talked about how he’s always been known for his work in comedic roles, and that critics doubted whether or not he could pull this particular role as a divorced father off genuinely.
People were only looking at Steve as one thing—and it immediately resonated with me as it related to my cerebral palsy. My career had barely gotten off the ground at that point. I didn’t have “critics” analyzing every word I wrote yet, but constantly being labeled as “the girl in a wheelchair” was enough for me to make a meaningful connection.
♦◊♦
It was a small connection, but a connection nonetheless. I knew it wouldn’t mean much—if anything—to anyone else. So I kept it as quiet as I could. Not only has that, but the fact that Steve has always under a cloud of doubt his entire career made me an even bigger fan now. Ironically enough, that has taught me more about humility and the will to move forward than I let anyone know.
I was a believer before Steve’s Oscar-nominated role in Foxcatcher. The fact he continues to evolve and challenge the stereotypes of what it means to be funny is a testament to his success. I’m incredibly grateful to be a fan, and that critics are finally seeing what I—and the world—have seen all along.
I never expected all these lessons about self-image, obstacles and manhood to come from a guy with humble beginnings—but I’m glad they did. If there’s one thing that has stuck with me since 2008, it’s to always look beyond what your eyes and ears expose you to.
♦◊♦
There’s always something else to be seen and discovered on the other side of the coin. Call Steve Carell an actor. Call him a comedian. Call him whatever you wish, but just don’t call him late to the party.
Keep doing what you do, Steve—and thanks for sharing your many layers of talent with the world. You remind me that each layer of myself is a true gift!
—
***
Improve your writing, expand your reach, and monetize your craft.
Join The Good Men Project’s Writers’ Community on Patreon.
We welcome all experience levels.
Learn more on our Patreon page.
***
—
Photo Credit: unrealitytv.com