When an actor we’ve always loved dies, the first thing we think is, “This is incomprehensible.” Actors, for those of us who have measured our lives in movies, aren’t just performers who have given us joy. They’re people who have walked along with us year by year; we match stride with them without even being aware of it. We measure the changes in them—the laugh lines that weren’t there the year before, the slightly rounded tummy that most women are forced to reckon with sometime in their fifties—