When actor Corey Haim was pronounced dead today at the shockingly young age of 38, it was yet another incident to bolster a Hollywood cliché - that of the former child star burning out well before their time. Haim, star of such major pop-culture landmarks as The Lost Boys, had a nearly lifelong battle with substance abuse. It is still unclear at this time if prescription drugs played a part in his untimely death.
Haim's popularity reached its zenith in the late '80s, following a string of performances alongside actor and friend Corey Feldman, whom he would affectionately reference as "Feldog". Their rapport eventually caused a blurring of their personalities, creating a public persona of a two-headed, drug-fueled monster known simply as The Two Coreys. A&E capitalized on this notoriety with a reality television program in 2006.
Corey Haim - Teenaged Leading Man
Yet for all of his recent years spent meandering in the shadow of the manic Feldman, Corey Haim was always the better actor. He was the kid that film critic Roger Ebert raved about following a screening of the unrequited teen love classic Lucas. Following a brief role in the abusive stepfather thriller Firstborn, Haim wasted no time attaining top billing in a number of high profile features.
In 1985's Stephen King adaptation Silver Bullet, he portrayed a wheelchair bound misfit forced to battle a werewolf with a crazy, alcoholic uncle (Gary Busey). In Watchers, he befriended a highly intelligent mutant dog. In 1988's License To Drive, he brought to life the teenage angst of a love life crippled by a lack of wheels, and combined it with a wish-fulfillment fantasy about turning a life around with one wild night.
Haimster And Feldog - The Coreys Invent Geek Chic
Yet the role Haim will most likely always be associated with is Sam Emerson from the legendary 1987 Joel Schumacher cult classic The Lost Boys. Starring alongside Jason Patric, Keifer Sutherland and of course Feldman, Haim stole the show with his wild clothing, unbridled attitude and a barrage of infinitely quotable one-liners. He straddled the film's balance between dark edginess and unabashed cheese, and elicited copious laughs with a natural wit and a gift for comic timing.
Where Corey Feldman always had to work overtime to appear "cool" (often failing miserably), Haim was able to pull it off effortlessly. At times awkward and nerdy, he somehow turned that into his favor, harnessing the image into countless Teen Beat covers and squeals from young girls. His token open-mouthed laugh turned him into a sort of drool-cup Elvis. He probably shouldn't have been cool, but he was.
Corey Haim's Years Of Drugs And Obscurity
Sadly, following the body-switching film Dream A Little Dream, Haim settled into a direct-to-video no man's land, appearing on late-night pay cable with such forgettable films as Blown Away (no, not the Jeff Bridges, Tommy-Lee Jones bomber actioner). His addiction to cocaine and downers soon overshadowed his creative abilities (Haim was also a prolific painter) and hampered his ability to stage an effective comeback.
Able to poke fun at his own "has-been" status, he appeared in a cameo in the David Spade comedy Dickie Roberts: Former Child Star. While the A&E show The Two Coreys certainly brought his image back into the spotlight, not even the promise of a long-awaited Lost Boys sequel could propel him back into leading roles. Finally, in 2009 he delivered a promising comic performance as a rage-fueled mullet-topped madman in Crank: High Voltage.
Like The Varsity Jacket In Lucas, Haim's Ultimate Success Is His Body Of Work
This last role hinted at a possible return to form for Corey Haim. Crank directors Neveldine and Taylor discussed making more films in the series featuring his character Randy. It may have been a stepping stone out of the straight to video doldrums. If someone like Quentin Tarantino could have connected with Haim, it certainly would have led to the second coming he so rightfully deserved.
Thankfully, Corey Haim's '80s cult classics are still that - classics. The Lost Boys continues to age vampirically well, so Haim will always be seen around the world on a regular basis, battling his on-screen grandfather over stuffed beavers and whispering "Death by stereo!" with a wide-eyed glee. It's not the frequent tabloid drug sagas that will be remembered, but rather this - his cinematic legacy.
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