There are so many reasons to feel sad about James Van Der Beek passing away at just 48 years old. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you – beloved actor, father of six, icon of a generation, yet was selling memorabilia to stay afloat financially – all just contribute to the feeling of loss.
What has struck me, though, is the number of writers, journalists, and other entertainment industry types who are sharing warm and lovely James Van Der Beek stories online. Not just “Yeah always a good interview”, but unusually, particularly nice, like this one:
Oh fuck. What a good dude he was. I got to spend three days with him on the set of RULES OF ATTRACTION & he was an absolute prince. He noticed some kids sneak on set & said "We should go over and say hi before security gets them." Just a really kind, funny, charming man. Heartbroken for his family.
— C. Robert Cargill (@crobertcargill.bsky.social) February 11, 2026 at 11:44 AM
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Or this thread, which is longer (two posts) but even more satisfying as a result.
Lovely posts, but not really all that surprising in and of themselves; I don’t think anyone ever had the impression that Van Der Beek wasn’t a nice guy. And after all, last year’s Dawson’s Creek Reunion was to benefit F Cancer and James Van Der Beek – people tend to do things like momentous reunion benefits for people they love and care about.
But I realize what’s made his passing, and the confirmation that he was particularly lovely, so notable is … that’s not who he was onscreen, and he was okay with that.
Think about it – the show was, of course, called Dawson’s Creek, but we all know what happened, it became the Joey and Pacey show, and Dawson himself was …not a footnote, but certainly not the centre of the story in the way someone who was number one on the callsheet might have imagined. (There’s an amazing book on this topic that any WB/CW fan will devour, Billion-Dollar Kiss: The Kiss That Saved Dawson’s Creek And Other Adventures in TV Writing.)
There are actors we know, love, and talk about who might have been bitter about this, who might have complained about the show every chance they got, or distanced themselves, or snarled every time the GIF came up, which in the early days of the 2010s was a lot. You’re doing the face without even realizing it, aren’t you?
That’s what made James Van Der Beek so special onscreen and on set: he didn’t need to be the most perfect, most celebrated one. Dawson was flawed, and didn’t always come out on top – and we were allowed to have the title character be the B or C story sometimes, or to not win or even be the person we were rooting for in a given story. Mox, from Varsity Blues, was sympathetic, but also flawed, albeit in fairly typical sheltered-white-boy-in-Texas-football fashion.
But the role that cemented him as an icon, weirdly enough, was James Van Der Beek – that is, when he played himself in Don’t Trust the B— in Apartment 23. A fictionalized version of himself, sure, but he wasn’t afraid to be an absolute dick and further skewer the impression of him as a spoiled, washed-up TV star, and people loved him as a result.
In fact, remember the Dawson crying GIF? (Of course you do.)

Van Der Beek made another one, mocking it and himself.

Do you know what a rare thing it is to have an actor so secure they’ll mock themselves good-naturedly like this? Especially in 2012, where being mockingly self-referential wasn’t yet the badge of honour it is now?
Now, I can feel some of you opening an email window to tell me you’re offended, and I’m not totally surprised. There’s an argument to be made, of course, that it’s disrespectful, when someone has just died, to highlight something that was silly and mocking and on at least one level, making fun of that person. But to be honest, I think this is all a part of what made him so special to all of us: he was ahead of his time.
There are many, many stars who don’t have this level of genial self-effacement, and I think this was also an underrated niche as an actor. To be the imperfect character means you’re not necessarily “aspirational’ or crushworthy, and relatedly, not necessarily magazine-cover material. But it means you’re relatable – in other words, the GIF of you making a deeply stupid face crying is notable because that’s how people cry, and so while you may not be the object of everyone’s fantasies, you are the reassurance that there’s honesty in the performance, and therefore in the show.
James Van Der Beek was of a different era, where ‘stars’ were held up as perfect and physically flawless, beyond reproach and also relatable; when nobody wanted to be laughed at, he went ahead and made it his brand. He was an alleged leading man, but his characters were complicated and flawed, all while dozens of ‘perfect’ teen and 20-something actors around him weren’t trying to get past a name-brand alter-ego who was himself a bit of a joke.
Which brings me back to the on-set stories about him we’re only hearing now. To be comfortable with a semi-fictional persona as a punchline or a jerk or worse, you have to be very secure in yourself, unconcerned with how the Hollywood winds are blowing. James was confident enough in himself, his acting, and ultimately, in the direction of his career, that he had the freedom to be kind and warm and giving even when ‘nobody’ was watching – and eventually, the confidence to build a life far from Hollywood, because his self-worth and self-image clearly came from broader, deeper places than his acting roles ever did.
So maybe cry, rewatch Dawson’s, and, if you’re so inclined, read this Vox oral history of the GIF – there’s WB and ABC lore, many bold-faced names, and, though it was written several years ago, a lot of affection for the man in question.
Rest well, James Van Der Beek. You were a different kind of icon than you expected, maybe, but you wore it so very, very well.
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