In fact, such was their involvement that California State Criminal Law was amended to allow the family members of victims to be present at parole hearings and speak in their place. Tate’s mother Doris campaigned up until her own death, as did Tate’s sister Patti, against the parole of the Manson Family members. Tate’s family have been instrumental in many aspects of Tate’s memory and legacy. Interesting that the film itself was inspired by beach parties and beach music, like The Beach Boys, a curious coincidence that the Manson Family had been seeking a member of the band the night of the murders. When asked about fate once, Tate is said to have stated, ‘of my life I have never had a hand in anything that has happened to me.’ The range of dolls making a strange parallel with her real life experiences as a commodified beauty. Tate posthumously commended on her performance. That same year, in Don’t Make Waves Tate plays Malibu, a bikini beach maiden who spends most of the film semi clad, and this character is said to have inspired Mattel’s Malibu Barbie. Critics at the time were either entirely derogative or blasé, and yet after her death it was re-released and became a cult classic. Her penultimate film Valley of The Dolls was released in 1967 and rather hauntingly, she plays the character of Jennifer North, a beautiful but floundering actress who falls pregnant. Through her short career, Tate tired of her looks, aware that it denied her more interesting parts in favour of the beautiful girl typecasting referring to herself somewhat sardonically as ‘sexy little me’. “Her death, and all subsequent representations in homage or deference have affected many lives, laws, and wallets since.” Sharon Tate herself never got to see her child, was unable to name him yet she is buried holding him and the public clamour to view that grave as though by association it is a commodity to be consumed, and voyeuristically enjoyed. This emphasises a theory termed ‘Wound Theory’ by Mark Seltzer, whereby we are drawn to view the body ripped apart it also emphasises that human beings really need a boundary sometimes. If you type into google the name ‘Sharon Tate’ the third link will tie her to Charles Manson, you will also see the fifth or sixth tab read: ‘Sharon Tate baby cut out’ and ‘baby autopsy pictures’. It marks the tragedy that as publicly consumed their death seemed that little more ‘real’, the celluloid immortals or kids of fat cats can die, or be killed. They were ‘important’ socially owned and photographed, they were not just victims of crime, they had a social worth. Sprawled, bloody, medicalised specimens, if it were not for their combined Hollywood status this is all they might have been to the world. Charting his progression from man, to criminal, to brand, Tate and her fellow victims, being just that: victims.
Photographs, headlines, paintings, and other memorabilia line the walls, tracking Manson’s journey. The exhibit focus was not on Tate at all, rather the perpetrator or to be specific, inciter, the notorious Charles Manson. Recently I was researching the Museum of Death in Hollywood and was struck by the display of crime scene photographs from this murder. Tate is said to have pleaded ‘give me two weeks so that I can give birth and then kill me’, her death, and all subsequent representations in homage or deference have affected many lives, laws, and wallets since. Was it her undeniable beauty, life in the public eye or the sheer brutality and senselessness of her murder that has immortalised Tate’s image? She died just two weeks from her due date, pregnant with the baby boy devastatingly laid to rest in her arms at the Holy Cross Cemetery near Los Angeles. Try as you might (go on, try it) it is impossible to find an image of this woman that does not shine, stun and glimmer. It has been 48 years since Sharon Tate was murdered and the memory of the woman Mia Farrow described as a ‘beautiful and gentle soul’ continues to live on.