Is Suicide Painless? Leaving Las Vegas, Suicide, and the Tragic End to Life
Ask many authors and they will tell you that one of the greatest fulfillment of their literary labors is having one of their books turned into a motion picture. Having that movie be the recipient of such critical acclaim that it receives four Academy Award nominations, including Best Adapted Screenplay, and earn for its star his first and only Oscar for Best Actor, well that’s like the cherry on top of the ice cream sundae.
Yet this success came posthumously to the author of the book Leaving Las Vegas, John O’Brien. O’Brien, born May 21, 1960, would take his own life more than a month shy of his 34th birthday on April 10, 1994. He signed the contract to option the book into a movie only to die by his own hand before production began, with a multi-figure check awaiting him in his mailbox.
His tragic end was an ironic foretelling of his fictionalized story, which was projected on the big screen many months later. Nicholas Cage starred in the role of the faux John O’Brien as a functional alcoholic named Ben Sanderson who decided to make Las Vegas his final resting place by proceeding to literally (as the character was a writer of modest success, much like O’Brien) drink himself to death.
O’Brien wrote a book that foreshadowed the tragic end that befell him. In an interview appearing in Esquire magazine on October 28, 2015, his only sibling and author in her own right Erin O’Brien proclaimed, “He couldn’t drink himself to death. The reality was Delirium Tremens and sickness and an addiction that rightly or wrongly, that he couldn’t escape on his own. I think that was his only escape. A violent suicide was the reality at the end of John’s life. Leaving Las Vegas was the highly-stylized romantic fantasy, to me.” John died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head in his Beverly Hills apartment. Estranged from his wife, his family, and seemingly alone in the world, except for the bottles of booze that provided constant companionship, the circumstances and reality of his own death were far more gruesome than the fantasy he penned that gave Cage the Oscar win.
No glamorous hooker looking like actress Elisabeth Shue (who received an Oscar nod for Best Actress for her role in the movie) stood by his side while his life flame was being extinguished. No empty bottles of different whiskey varietals lay in a briefcase he packed on his pilgrimage to death’s Mecca. There was no one to tell him that he was successful, that he had finally arrived in Hollywood, and that help could be found to vanquish the very demons alcohol and depression magnified and held over his life for his entire 33 short years on Earth.
Leaving Las Vegas is by no means an autobiography or semi-autobiography of the life and times of author John O’Brien. And, to be clear, this story being written is not so much about his death march, fueled by alcoholism, self-imposed loneliness, and crippling addiction. It is a story of the demons we all chase and the way in which we exorcise them, whether through rigorous fitness regimen, binge eating, working longer and longer hours on the job, or by self-medicating our feelings into a submissive stupor.
Depression and low self-esteem are the evil twins who bring misery, despair, and destruction to every life they are able to touch. The twins amplify feelings of worthlessness, self-loathing, fear and set into motion a plan that often involves your ultimate demise. When left untreated, those suffering from depression and low self-esteem are more likely to commit a desperate act to end their pain and suffering. Suicide has a zero percent fail rate — if you successfully commit suicide, you are dead.
According to SAMHSA, the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration located in Rockville, MD, in a 2012 study (published in 2013), it takes 25 unsuccessful attempts at suicide for every 1 attempt that is successful. More than 40,000 Americans take their lives each year, making suicide the 10th leading cause of death in the United States. Of those 40,000 deaths, more than half (23,000) are by white males. California, Texas and Florida have the highest number of deaths per 100,000 population (each in the 3,000 residents) while Wyoming, Montana, and Alaska have the highest percentage of their population who commit suicide.
These numbers are daunting. Why do men take their lives in greater proportions to women? Why do white men decide to end their lives more than black men? What are the demons we face that make the decision to die by our own doing an option, as opposed to seeking help, support or nurturing from friends, families, and loved ones within our extended community in order to step back from the edge of the abyss we stare into, one foot over the line?
There is no answer to these questions that I can offer as I am not a medical professional, counselor, or even a theologian. A person who decides to take their own life has gone beyond placing one foot into the void and has committed to crossing over to the other side.
I can empathize with those who feel this type of pain in their life and know how darkness can not only envelope you and engulf your whole being but also seduce you into taking actions that you may or may not otherwise be considering. Cloaking yourself in armor to fight the daily battles of life can be taxing on the soul, especially when these battles all too often end in defeat, abject humiliation, and mournful soul searching. It is easy to feel very alone and isolated in a crowd of people who love you and forsake their kindness, opting instead for self-pity, self-hate, and self-destruction.
I can’t begin to imagine the incredible level of excruciating pain John O’Brien or those who decide to commit suicide must feel in those last hours of their life. It is sad to think that the depths of his (and others) despair made him unable to cast out one more life line to a loving sister (Erin), his ex-wife (Lisa), or even his father (William) from whom he was reportedly estranged but had come to visit him weeks earlier in an L.A. hospital after John wrapped his car around a street post, resulting in multiple injuries.
He “left Las Vegas,” in a manner of speaking, in a way that was befitting the turbulent life he had lived. Whether he knew of the money due him for the movie rights he had signed away only weeks earlier or the attempts being made by those in his life to intervene and stand between him and the pain that was telling him to jump is immaterial. His mind was made up and death was the route he chose, albeit via a violent and tearfully sad way.
The song Suicide is Painless was the theme to Robert Altman’s 1970 Academy Award winning movie M*A*S*H. The words to the song were penned by the director’s 14 year-old son and would subsequently become the theme song for the long running, Emmy Award winning television show. I leave you with the words and if we do not together Leave Las Vegas, may we find the inner peace and strength to continue in life’s journey and seek help before our final story is told.
Through early morning fog I see
Visions of the things to be
The pains that are withheld for me
I realize and I can see…
That suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it if I please.
I try to find a way to make
All our little joys relate
Without that ever-present hate
But now I know that it’s too late, and…
The game of life is hard to play
I’m gonna lose it anyway
The losing card I’ll someday lay
So this is all I have to say.
The only way to win is cheat
And lay it down before I’m beat
And to another give my seat
For that’s the only painless feat.
The sword of time will pierce our skins
It doesn’t hurt when it begins
But as it works its way on in
The pain grows stronger…watch it grin, but…
A brave man once requested me
To answer questions that are key
Is it to be or not to be
And I replied ‘oh why ask me?’
’Cause suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it if I please.
…and you can do the same thing if you please.
