Of all celebrity deaths — Robert Redford, Gene Hackman — just one has hit us like a depth charge.
A week ago, Diane Keaton, beloved actress and many other things, left us at 79 years old. She was an absolute delight. For a celebrity never to have a bad word said about them is a rarity. But Keaton lit up every room.
Keaton’s family says she died of pneumonia, which I’m sure is true. But I can tell you see suffered from a rare form of dementia that came on quickly and attacked her amazing brain. Her mother had also suffered from Alzheimer’s disease, so it was somehow genetic. But what a mean end of a great life.
There are lots of tabloid reports about Keaton’s final days. I know that close friends visited her and she did not necessarily recognize them.
I can tell you exclusively that Keaton spent her last months in Palm Springs, California. She stayed — with family and caregivers — at a very discreet place called Smoke Tree Ranch. The Wall Street Journal once described the rest as “so exclusive people barely know it exists” and “a western fantasy land.”
Smoke Tree Ranch actually sounds like heaven. You can read its whole, long history here. It seems like the most Diane Keaton place in the world, serene and nostalgic. I’m glad she got some peace there.
Keaton lived her life on her own terms. She was a maverick. She’ll be remembered for “Annie Hall,” “Reds,” “Baby Boom,” “Something’s Gotta Give,” and so on as the classiest of all our modern stars.
