[This is
the seventh in an occasional series describing British actors and performers
who achieved fame in the theatre or in the movies.]
Many actors have an elusive personality; their outer
appearance is a kind of tabula rasa awaiting
the influence of the various roles they are called upon to play. Their inner
life is often repressed and intensely private. Alec Guinness falls into this
category, a most accomplished actor giving immense pleasure but underneath a
somewhat tormented man. More than almost any other actor, Guinness changed his
appearance constantly, almost obsessively, as if he needed to disguise, or
perhaps at last to discover his real persona.
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| Alec Guinness in his prime |
Alec Guinness (1914-2000) was the illegitimate son of Agnes
Guinness de Cuffe and Alec believed his father was a Scottish banker called
Andrew Geddes who paid his school bills and was known as “uncle”, dying in
1928. His mother, to whom he was not close, eventually married twice, finally
to a wife-beating veteran of the Irish Civil War of the 1920s. This fractured
family life no doubt contributed to Alec’s insecurity and search for his
identity. Alec was brought up in a
succession of cheap lodgings in the South of England, became very keen on the
theatre, but was discouraged by his lack of amateur success and started work as
an advertising copy-writer.
He persisted with the stage and won a place at drama school
and in 1936 joined the Old Vic, playing increasingly significant Shakespearean and
other classic roles, including a fine Sir Andrew Aguecheek in Twelfth Night (modelled on Stan Laurel)
until he starred in a well-received modern dress version of Hamlet in 1938, directed by Gielgud.
During the war he served in the RNVR, later as a master of landing craft in
Sicily and the Adriatic.
Earlier he had written an abridged version for the stage of
Dickens’ Great Expectations which had
some success and the film director David Lean liked the script and offered
Guinness the part of Pip’s friend Herbert Pocket in the 1946 movie. This was
his movie debut and although Guinness always maintained that the stage was his
first love, his popular fame rests on his glittering cinema career.
He made a memorably flamboyant Fagin in Lean’s Oliver Twist in 1948, offending some
Jews, and then scintillated in various “Ealing” comedies, most famously as 8
members of the D’Ascoyne family, targets for vengeful assassin Dennis Price in Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949). His
performance(s) were a comic tour de force.
He was the sinister Professor Marcus leading an incompetent criminal gang in The Ladykillers and featured as The Man in the White Suit upsetting the
textile moguls and unions with his invented indestructible fabric.
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| Guinness as Fagin |
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| As Lady D'Ascoyne in Kind Hearts and Coronets |
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| As Professor Marcus in The Ladykillers |
Alec was of a religious cast of mind and during the war had
spoken of his intention of joining the Anglican ministry. In 1954, while
filming Chesterton’s Father Brown in
France, he was moved by the trust shown by a French boy in his local curé. In 1956 he converted to
Catholicism to be followed in 1957 by his artist wife Merula (née Salaman, whom
he married in 1938). Religion gave him much comfort, but also sharpened his
feelings of guilt. This guilt may have arisen from his bi-sexuality, well known
to his theatrical friends but concealed totally from Merula, whom he adored.
Guinness became an international star as Col. Nicholson,
stubborn commanding officer of his fellow-prisoners, in David Lean’s 1957
blockbuster The Bridge over the River
Kwai, appalled that his bridge should be destroyed, even by the Allies.
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| Col. Nicholson and The Bridge over the River Kwai |
He also shone in the film of Joyce Cary’s The Horse’s Mouth as the shambolic
artist Gulley Jimson, a role which Alec himself thought was a career highlight.
Its anarchism probably appealed to him – in his later memoirs he regretted that
“he had not taken enough risks” professionally.
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| As Gulley Jimson in The Horse's Mouth |
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| As Maj.Sinclair in Tunes of Glory |
He was knighted in 1959 and playing against his usual grain,
Guinness was in fine form as the rumbustious Major Sinclair, undermining
disciplinarian John Mills in the Scottish Regimental drama Tunes of Glory in 1960. Alec took on a richly ironic role as the
vacuum-cleaner salesman-turned- spy in Carol Reed’s adaptation of Graham
Greene’s Our Man in Havana. Alec had
played T E Lawrence on the London stage in Rattigan’s thoughtful Ross, and when David Lean directed his
1962 Lawrence of Arabia he found a
place for his old colleague as the subtle but scheming Prince Faisal.
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| As Prince Faisal in Lawrence of Arabia |
Alec was above all a character actor. He did not have the
commanding presence or dash of an Olivier or a Burton, nor the sonorous voice
of a Gielgud, but he was in all ways a consummate performer, imbuing
understanding and intelligence.
His later career was
full of pleasures. He was a dignified and sympathetic Charles I, with a light
Stuart Scottish accent in Cromwell
(1970), and later an excellent gouty Earl of Dorincourt in the sentimental Little Lord Fauntleroy. The
international audience came most to connect him with the supporting role of
Obi-wan Kenobi in the Star Wars
trilogy between 1977 and 1983. He received a huge windfall by negotiating a
generous fee but also 2% of the royalties (20% of the gross take) paid to
director George Lucas. The trilogy was an immense box-office hit and Guinness
became seriously rich.
His UK fans were gripped by his role as George Smiley, MI6 spy-catcher in two TV serials based on John le Carré’s
character. Smiley’s polite and secretive persona,
with a glint of steel when his prey is uncovered, suited Guinness admirably.
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| As Obi-wan Kenobi |
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| As George Smiley |
Guinness’ diaries were published after his death and they
are in the feline theatrical tradition. He moans about the quality of modern
stage and film audiences. This sounds like cantankerous old age but he was
particularly disobliging about Olivier’s “cruel and destructive streak” and
never forgave him for snubbing his wife.
He died in 2000 aged 86 laden with honours. With all his
hang-ups about his origins, his religion, and his sexuality, he remains
personally elusive. Never a “Luvvie” and more acutely intelligent than many
Thespians, he will always be respected and admired for his astonishingly
many-faceted career.
SMD
29.3.14
Text copyright © Sidney Donald 2014
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