Neeson talks about wife’s fatal fall
Liam Neeson has spoken to Esquire magazine about his wife’s fatal fall on a Quebec ski hill two years ago. Granted the man would have been in a state, but his criticism of Sacré-Cœur hospital seems to be that nobody recognized him (in a different country where most people speak a different language) and therefore it was hard to find someone prepared to bend the rules for him. One has sympathy for his loss but this isn’t a searing indictment of the Quebec health system.
Jeather 11:33 on 2011/02/16 Permalink
He also seems to be horrified that there were ill and injured people in the ER, and that he had to be near them.
walkerp 11:33 on 2011/02/16 Permalink
Yes, that was a bit weird. But the “Dickensian” comment was pretty damning.
Kate 11:45 on 2011/02/16 Permalink
Some faint irony in someone coming from Ireland finding our health installations antique.
(I’ve never been inside Sacré-Cœur – I take it it’s as old as the Vic or Hôtel-Dieu; I also remember some shudders from an American friend I had cause to bring to Quebec City’s Hôtel-Dieu once as well. I think these places have character!)
qatzelok 17:54 on 2011/02/16 Permalink
He tried to use his cell in the hospital, and when a guard told him not to, he was like, “Do you know who I am?” Empathy.
Gabriel 21:53 on 2011/02/16 Permalink
to: walkerp
What “Dickensian” comment?
Marc 22:21 on 2011/02/16 Permalink
Anyone who has such an enormous ego that he expect to be recognized anywhere and everywhere is officially a douchebag. And I really liked Liam Neeson; dammit!
Jason 22:21 on 2011/02/16 Permalink
Actually, she died in NYC, not Montreal, so the title of this post isn’t accurate…
Kate 00:06 on 2011/02/17 Permalink
True enough, Jason. I’ve changed it.
Gabriel: the CBC account of this story mentions “Dickensian” as a word used by Neeson to describe Sacré-Cœur; it’s on this page of the Esquire story: “I’ll tell you one thing,” [Neeson] says. “I’d been to Montreal maybe twice before. And for some reason, I thought the city’s this size.” He holds his hands out in front of him then, cupped like he is drinking water. “I thought that it was this little comfortable little city,” he says. “And for some reason, I thought the hospital that I was in a taxi racing toward was gonna be a nice little hospital, about twice the size of this restaurant. But it was this huge, glassy, black place. A Dickensian place, Tom.”
Etcetera.