If you were around in 1997, you probably remember the "Yep, I’m Gay" cover of Time magazine. It was everywhere. But what often gets lost in the archival footage of Ellen DeGeneres making history is the person standing right next to her: Anne Heche.
At the time, they were basically the only gay "supercouple" in Hollywood. It’s hard to explain to people now just how radical that was. Today, a celebrity coming out is a Tuesday afternoon news cycle. Back then? It was a career-ending gamble. And for Heche, it kinda was.
People love to simplify their story into a "tragic romance" or a "90s tabloid fixture," but the reality of Ellen DeGeneres and Anne Heche is way more complicated than a few red carpet photos. It’s a story about a literal revolution in the industry, a massive amount of personal sacrifice, and a fallout that lasted decades.
The Night Everything Changed at the Volcano Premiere
Most people think they met and everything was fine. It wasn't. Anne Heche had just landed a massive role in the disaster flick Volcano. She was on the verge of becoming the next "It Girl." Then she met Ellen at a Vanity Fair Oscar party.
They fell in love instantly. Like, "life-changing" instantly.
When Heche told Fox (the studio behind Volcano) that she wanted to bring Ellen as her date to the premiere, the reaction was swift and brutal. They told her she’d lose her contract. They told her she’d never work in a studio film again.
Honestly, Ellen actually tried to protect her. She told Anne, "Do what they say." She knew the stakes. But Heche didn't care. She took Ellen’s hand, walked into that premiere, and was promptly ushered out by security before the movie even finished. Think about that: the lead actress was kicked out of her own premiere for the "crime" of being with a woman.
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Why the "Stigma" Was So Career-Ending
It wasn't just a bad week of PR. Heche later claimed she didn't work on a major studio picture for ten years because of that relationship.
- The Harrison Ford Factor: The only reason she wasn't fired from Six Days, Seven Nights was because Harrison Ford himself called her up and said he didn't care who she was sleeping with. He fought for her.
- The Blacklisting: Despite Ford’s help, the broader industry basically froze her out.
- The Public Perception: Fans were confused. The media was predatory. There was this weird narrative that Heche was "crazy" or "unstable" for choosing love over a paycheck.
The Breakup Nobody Saw Coming
By 2000, it was over. The split was abrupt, and the aftermath was, frankly, messy. Just hours after the breakup was announced, Anne Heche was found wandering in a rural area of Fresno, California, wearing only a bra and shorts, knocking on a stranger's door.
She told the people there she was "God" and was looking for a spaceship.
The media had a field day. It was cruel. Instead of seeing a woman having a clear mental health crisis or a "psychotic break" (as she later described it), the tabloids used it to invalidate her entire relationship with Ellen. They painted her as someone who had "gone crazy" because of the "lifestyle."
The Truth About the "L-Word"
One of the biggest misconceptions about Ellen DeGeneres and Anne Heche is how Heche identified. Years later, in her final memoir Call Me Anne, she was really clear about this: she didn't identify as a lesbian.
She fell in love with a person.
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"Gay didn't feel right, and neither did straight," she wrote. She joked that "alien" might be the best fit. This was 1997. We didn't have the mainstream vocabulary for pansexuality or fluid identity back then. Because she later married a man (Coley Laffoon) and had children, people accused her of "faking" her time with Ellen. It’s a pretty gross accusation when you realize she gave up a multi-million dollar career for that "fake" relationship.
Was Ellen the "Queen of Nice" or Something Else?
In the years leading up to Heche’s tragic death in 2022, rumors about Ellen’s "toxic" workplace started to surface. This changed how people looked back at her relationship with Anne.
Heche didn't hold back in her later years. On her podcast, Better Together, she alleged that Ellen was "controlling" and that the "Queen of Nice" persona was a facade. She even claimed Ellen had blocked her from appearing on The Ellen DeGeneres Show, which effectively hurt Heche’s ability to promote her projects.
Whether you believe Heche’s version of events or not, it’s clear the two hadn't spoken in years. When the news broke that Heche was in a coma following her car crash in August 2022, Ellen’s response was famously brief: "We’re not in touch with each other, so I wouldn't know."
Later, when Heche passed, Ellen tweeted: "This is a sad day. I’m sending Anne’s children, family and friends all of my love."
It was polite. It was professional. But it was a far cry from the "supercouple" energy of 1998.
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The Lasting Legacy of the "Supercouple"
Despite the messy ending, you can't deny what they did. They moved the needle.
If you see a gay couple on the red carpet at the Oscars today, you’re seeing the house that Ellen and Anne built—or rather, the door they kicked down. They paid a massive professional price so that others wouldn't have to.
What You Can Take Away From Their Story
If you’re looking at the history of Ellen DeGeneres and Anne Heche, don't just look at the gossip. Look at the courage.
- Identity is Fluid: Heche’s refusal to be boxed into a label was ahead of its time. It’s okay if your "label" changes.
- Integrity Costs Something: Standing up to a studio in the 90s meant losing millions. Sometimes the "right" thing isn't the profitable thing.
- Mental Health Matters: The way the media treated Heche’s breakdown in 2000 was a failure of empathy. We’re better at discussing this now, but there’s still work to do.
If you want to understand the modern celebrity landscape, you have to understand the 1997 Volcano premiere. You have to understand that before there was "visibility," there was just two people trying to go to a movie together without getting fired.
Next time you see an old clip of them, remember: they weren't just a couple. They were a revolution.
To really get the full picture, I’d recommend reading Heche’s first memoir, Call Me Crazy, alongside her posthumous book, Call Me Anne. They offer a raw, often uncomfortable look at what it was like to be at the center of that storm. You might also look into the 1997 Oprah interview where they appeared together—it’s a time capsule of a world that was just beginning to change.