‘90210’ Actor Fought Like Hell to Live

Shannen Doherty — the star of “Beverly Hills, 90210,” “Heathers” and “Charmed,” among dozens of other credits — was a gifted actor who immediately got your attention on screen. Her black hair, green eyes and slightly crooked teeth made her stand out, even as a child: No one looked like her. And then her line delivery, with her forceful, at times awkward cadence, made viewers lean in to listen. Doherty frequently looked pissed; it was easy to think that perhaps she was pissed.

Generation X lost an icon this weekend with Doherty’s death at age 53. She’s the second member of the “Beverly Hills, 90210” cast to die, after Luke Perry died of a stroke in 2019 at age 52. That’s two too many, of course, but devoted listeners of Doherty’s “Let’s Be Clear” podcast, and I am one of them, may be feeling especially confused today, and bereft. I listened not only as a journalist, observer and fan who’d found her fascinating since her explosive fame in the early ‘90s — but as an acquaintance of Doherty’s who had discussed cancer with her on a more personal level, having gone through my own cancer nightmare, with ovarian cancer.

On the June 23 episode of “Let’s Be Clear” — just three weeks ago — an emotional Doherty talked about how she was going on a new chemo drug, an infusion, after having been on pills for years. As she choked back tears, Doherty was frank about how scared she was. But she also discussed her hopes, because her cancer cells had changed, and there might be more protocols to try. “For the first time in a couple of months, probably, I feel hopeful?” Doherty said in upspeak. “Because there are so many more protocols now. Whereas before, I was hopeful — but I was still getting prepared.”

Doherty’s hard-won optimism made the news of her death all the more shocking. Her breast cancer recurred in early winter 2019, this time as metastatic Stage 4 cancer, which is very serious; she’d even had brain surgery last year to remove lesions there. But despite how dire things may have appeared, Doherty was still pushing forward in her career: Just last week, she and her former “Charmed” castmates Holly Marie Combs, Brian Krause and Drew Fuller announced that she would be joining their “House of Halliwell” rewatch podcast of the show, and they’d reboot it with her.

The questions about what happened with Doherty’s cancer treatment are small things to consider in the grand scheme of a life. But they are the ones I’m preoccupied by today. Because Shannen Doherty didn’t expect to die.

She leaves an extensive legacy. Doherty’s family moved to Los Angeles from Memphis, Tenn. when she was 7, and she began auditioning. Her first major role was in the final season of “Little House on the Prairie” at age 11, and she worked steadily from there.

In “Heathers” in 1988 — a film that has gone on to achieve such cult status, it’s hard to remember what a bomb it was — Doherty played Heather Duke, who spat lines at Winona Ryder like, “Veronica, why are you pulling my dick?” And when Ryder’s Veronica asked her why she had to be such a “mega-bitch,” Doherty answered with her signature smirk: “Because I can be.”

It was “Beverly Hills, 90210,” though, which premiered in 1990 to an audience of zero at first, that shot Doherty into the stratosphere. Fox’s teen soap, a true novelty then, revolved around Doherty’s Brenda and her twin Brandon (Jason Priestley) moving from Minnesota to Beverly Hills — and all the culture shock that came along with that. Brenda and Brandon were our guides into this affluent world, with its excesses and break-ups that teenagers and young adults would for years gather weekly to watch together as a ritual. The handwringing about Brenda losing her virginity in Season 1 to Perry’s character Dylan McKay made national headlines, and was seen by some (hilariously!) as a nervous-breakdown-inducing end of civilization.  

Writ large, “90210” made its cast into superstars, and while I’m sure it wasn’t easy for any of them, the press fixated especially on Doherty. She was likely doing what most other young women in their early 20s were doing at the time, but she became a tabloid fixture, a notorious star of the pre-internet celebrity press: She was an absolute hellion, and it was literally spectacular to watch. She came of age just as the paparazzi and gossip press, who 10 years later would go on to stalk Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton and Britney Spears, among others, were beginning to create ongoing narratives about young women as living trainwrecks. Following Doherty’s antics was a sport — and it got mean. Really mean.

I first interviewed Doherty for the Los Angeles Times in late-summer 2008, when she was about to guest-star on the “90210” reboot on the CW. She had been hesitant to agree to the interview — she hated the press, understandably — but once we were in her trailer on the set, we talked for hours. At the time, she was riding a wave of nostalgia that had welcomed her back into the public eye, having retreated after leaving “Charmed” in 2001. (The circumstances of her departure were hazy at the time: Doherty has since made it very clear she was fired.)

“90210” was filming at a high school in El Segundo, and Doherty seemed nervous at first. But once she got going, she opened up about how her father’s health — he had been sick with various heart-related illnesses since she was a kid — had affected her just as “Beverly Hills, 90210” was reaching its apex, both in terms of her “acting out,” as she put it, and with practical things, such as her persistent lateness. She went way beyond what I expected, in terms of revealing personal details, speaking about her brief marriage to the well-known poker player Rick Salomon, who then became a public creep, infamous for both starring in and distributing his “1 Night in Paris” Paris Hilton sex tape. She brought it up out of nowhere, seeming to want to talk about it. “It ended up being very embarrassing for me, and humiliating and disgusting,” Doherty said.

She gave off the vibe that she wanted to set a bunch of things straight, mentioning them before I could even think of them. She seemed regretful about her early fame and how she’d handled things, without being defensive. She got teary-eyed and choked up a few times as we talked, but was also laceratingly funny.

We exchanged information — her email was her dog’s name — and went to dinner once. She had become involved with Pasadena Magazine, somewhat inexplicably, and asked if I wanted to work there. (I didn’t, but it was nice of her to offer.) We talked about our shared love of gambling — she was an expert craps player, she said — and discussed intersecting in Las Vegas someday. I had no illusions this would happen: She was Shannen Doherty! We lost touch. Obviously.

After she was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2015, I followed her treatment closely, which was easy to do, because she documented it assiduously on Instagram. When she announced she was in remission in April 2017, I was then in my own cancer hell, having been diagnosed with ovarian cancer the previous summer. I DM’d her when she tweeted her good news, telling her briefly about my own situation, and she wrote back: “I’m so sorry to hear this. Are you happy with your doctors? Mine are amazing. Saved so many. Researchers. Doctors. The best. I’d be happy to connect you.” (It was a wonderful offer that I didn’t need to take her up on, luckily.)

I interviewed her again, in September 2021 as part of Variety’s Power of Women issue, and she remembered I’d been sick, and we talked about cancer and chemotherapy, which are both indescribable experiences. The story was about how prolific she was that year as an actor, despite her having Stage 4 cancer: She’d been in three movies back to back, and all she wanted to do was work. She’d also directed a breast cancer PSA for Lifetime, and was intent on doing more directing.

“The best example that I can continue to set for other people with cancer, and to the outside world who doesn’t have cancer,” Doherty said then, “is to show them what a cancer patient looks like. We are employable.”

I’ve been cheering her on from the sidelines as I’ve listened to “Let’s Be Clear.” The topics were as varied as she was, but I was interested in all of them. She’d interview her doctors about her treatment — so illuminating for those of us who don’t have this kind of access to our oncologists — and also welcomed friends like Sarah Michelle Gellar and director James Cullen Bressack. She’d talk to people she’d worked with, such as “90210’s” Priestley and Brian Austin Greene, and “Mallrats” director Kevin Smith (they loved each other so much, it seemed). And she had a cathartic reconciliation with Tori Spelling, during which they cleared the air about everything that had happened on “90210,” which of course involved Spelling’s father, Aaron Spelling, the powerful producer.

Not everyone got off easy: She’d obliquely allude to her “90210” nemeses, not naming them, but it was easy enough to figure out. And with “Charmed,” Doherty blamed Alyssa Milano for her ouster, and her friend Holly Marie Combs agreed with her assessment. (Milano publicly denied having anything to do with it, causing Doherty to double down.)

Doherty would also talk to her mother, and they’d discuss Shannen’s childhood and their lives together, and her illness, too. I’m especially thinking today about her mom, whom she’d call Mama Rosa. Sometimes it would be just Doherty, and she’d talk about how terrified she was, and how angry that she was dealt this hand. But then she’d bounce back, and pick herself up again. Her most recent guest was Katherine Heigl, and they bonded over having stood up for themselves on sets, assertiveness that then became twisted and misconstrued to suit other people’s narratives of who they were.

It’s impossible to know how to end this essay, because she wasn’t meant to die now. The world is less exciting without Shannen Doherty in it.