Fifteen minutes of fame

Michael Murphy (L) has stepped away from the spotlight. Martin Crowe and Lorraine Downes have lasting public appeal. Photos / The Aucklander, Herald on Sunday

Broadcaster Paul Holmes calls it the "Bitch Goddess"; former international cricketing star Martin Crowe needed therapy to cope with the damage from being thrust into the limelight at the age of 14; Robyn Malcolm describes herself as "quietly paranoid".

Fame - that seductive four-lettered word craved by so many - can make or break the lives of previously unknowns. They can't live with it, they can't live without it.

But how to hold on to that addictive drug, that power that causes heads to turn when you walk into a bar and fans to queue for an autograph?

Like many former reality stars, singer Michael Murphy - NZ Idol runner-up to Ben Lummis five years ago - disappeared off the radar. He was last seen in a roading gang between Napier and Taupo.

Other people nurture their talent and handle fame better, as becomes obvious from talking to agents, publicists and stars.

Tamar Munch, the TV publicist who handles actors on shows like Shortland Street and Outrageous Fortune, acknowledges the pressure felt by a young actor suddenly thrust into the public eye.

"Once an actor is on television, in public they are always at work. This can be very trying."

But the ones who do make it big and thus become adept at sashaying the celebrity circuit also become adept at handling the disadvantages.

Hence Holmes' "Bitch Goddess" label.

Ten years ago in his autobiography, Holmes wrote: "Fame is a narcotic beauty who seduces you and isolates you ... fame will lift you up or at a whim will throw you lower than you were when she found you."

Fame, he says, keeps a person in "a special kind of prison where you never want the sentence to end".

A decade on, Holmes has faced the public torment of watching his daughter Millie appear in newspaper headlines, for all the wrong reasons.

Although many famous fathers might have refused comment and jostled the odd cameraman, Holmes didn't.

He accepts that becoming famous means people view him as public property "when shit goes down".

Cricketer Martin Crowe hasn't handled the past 20-odd years of his famous life quite so well.

Crowe was 14 when selected for an under-23 side, a move he now says was "ridiculous". He was picked for the Auckland squad at 15 and for New Zealand at 19.

Shy by nature, Crowe didn't know how to cope with the attention, recognition and adoration of fans. He admits that it went to his head; his ego grew so large it threatened to destroy his life.

His first marriage fell apart in 1995 and when his second relationship ended in 2005, Crowe realised he "had a problem". He started seeing a psychotherapist to help face the demons that rarely left him alone.

On Valentine's Day this year he married former beauty queen Lorraine Downes, a marriage Spy gossip columnist Rachel Glucina calls a "plus one" - two celebrities joining together, giving them more leverage on the celeb circuit.

And yes, they sold their nuptials to a women's magazine, as did former True Bliss singer and radio host Joe Cotton and restaurant manager Dan Shields, who married the same day. The previous week another "plus one" couple, MTV presenter Amber Peebles and new husband Brooke Howard-Smith, TV3's Target presenter, sold their big day to a women's magazine.

Crowe accepts he and Downes, who recently appeared on Dancing With The Stars, are viewed as a celebrity couple. But he says never a day goes by that he does not work hard on keeping his ego in check. And he now shares his life with someone who understands what it's like to be in the spotlight.

"It's been a wonderful three years and we remind each other about removing ego because it is an unnecessary evil."

The editor of New Zealand Women's Weekly, Sido Kitchin, says there are two types of people who become celebrities - those who become famous for their talent and those who pursue fame at any cost, whether or not they are talented.

Kitchin says the talented types, be they sports people or actors, generally don't crave fame. "It's just part of the job."

Glucina says gossip pages and women's magazines undoubtedly help build fame. Women like Aja Rock and Gilda Kirkpatrick - famous for being famous - work hard to stay on the A list. But then again, there are some people in Auckland who would "never dream of inviting Gilda to anything".

Glucina says stars - Lucy Lawless, Karl Urban, Peter Jackson - are happy to talk to her. "They understand how the game works. They understand that gossip and gossip columnists are part of the deal."

Even Prime Minister John Key understands, she says - especially in the run-up to last year's election.

Imogen Johnson, senior agent for Johnson Laird Management, agrees a certain amount of publicity helps a star's longevity. "Like it or not, keeping your profile high is all part of the strategy of staying a marketable and saleable brand."

Robyn Malcolm, whose face became household familiar when she appeared on Shortland Street in the mid-1990s, says she has become "quietly paranoid" that people are looking at her but tries to go about her day as a mother of two young children.

Tantrums in the supermarket can be extra embarrassing for someone like her, she says. Malcolm loves the business of acting, and says the fame comes as part of the package. To young ones coming through the ranks she warns: "Good and bad reviews are as dangerous as each other."

Avoid believing your own hype, she says. Fame and fortune are not good motivations.

The high profile can come at a cost. While agents and publicists mostly agree that former rugby star Jonah Lomu's career was handled well, one celebrity manager questions the cost of his stardom, pointing to his turbulent personal life as evidence that he has not handed the fame.

Auckland psychologist Mary Farrell says people who crave fame and then can't cope with it generally have low self-esteem and have had a troubled childhood. "It is basically people who haven't been parented properly and have huge holes in their self-esteem and their identity. They are not equipped."

Farrell interviewed actor Michael Hirst for a chapter in her book, looking at his "horrible and difficult" childhood and the work he had done since to come to terms with it. Now, she says, he handles his public and private life well. "He has integrity. There's no falseness to him, he's not putting anything on, he's just who he is."

But not everyone handles the limelight and attention from fans so well. Farrell talks about acquired situational narcissism, a personality disorder forced on to famous people because of the way fans treat them.

The disorder causes stars to behave badly - trashing hotel rooms, acting up with hotel staff or being aggressive - because they consider themselves to be part of an elite group.

Farrell is well used to counselling celebrities and makes special allowances for them. She makes sure her quiet Mt Eden street is deserted before they arrive. And with good reason. Much as they may sometimes embrace the paparazzi, "they don't need to see a big photo of them going in to see a psychotherapist".