In the years since his death in 2000, a documentary has come out about his life and still we are left little nearer knowing the man. What we do know is that he wrestled with his bi-sexuality in an era far less forgiving than now; that he could be spiteful to his wife of 62 years (and that is hardly newsworthy as who hasn't had rows with partners?); that he had a difficult relationship with his mother; that he and the director David Lean didnot always see eye to eye; and that he grew to loath his fame from his appearance in Star Wars. Beyond that we are no nearer knowing the real Alec Guinness and that is no doubt how the great man would have wanted it to be.

What we know is the fragments from a life; the outline of a man.

He was born Alec Guinness de Cuffe (de Cuffe was his mother's surname; he never knew the identity of his father) in London in 1914 and educated at private schools in the South. At 18 he took a job as a copy-writer in an advertising agency, but the stage beckoned and in 1934 he won a scholarship to the Fay Compton Acting School. John Gielgud saw him, was impressed, and gave him his first break as Osric in Hamlet; by 1938 Guinness had the lead in the Old Vic's modern dress version of the play. He joined the Royal Navy in 1941 and quickly became an officer.

After the war he returned to the stage and in 1946 began his film career as Herbert Pocket in David Lean's Great Expectations. It was a character well known to him - he had played Pocket in his own stage adaptation of Dickens' novel in 1940. Lean next cast him as Fagin in Oliver Twist (1948). If the revered Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949) (salary: £ 6,000) which followed, was to establish Guinness as the screen's most perceptive and refined interpreter of English idiosyncracy, his Fagin first revealed him as a master of disguise. An extraordinary study in nervous, jealous avarice masquerading as avuncular warmth, the fumbling, hook-nosed old Jew - sketched straight from Cruikshank's illustrations - his beard matted and his heavy- lidded eyes sparked with cunning, repels and demands sympathy at the same time. Guinness' remarkable performance was regarded as anti-Semitic in 1948 and the American release of Oliver Twist was long delayed.

The Ealing comedies and more stage-work occupied Guinness for the next few years and he became a major star. The Man in the White Suit (1951), The Lavender Hill Mob (also 1951, Oscar nominated, salary: £ 6,000), and The Ladykillers (1955) have become classics of cinema and each successive generation are discovering the charm of a younger Guinness through these exquisite films.

He was the detective- Priest in Father Brown (1954), and a cardinal held captive in The Prisoner (1955); perhaps the logical conclusion to this sequence was his Pope Innocent III in Fratello Sole, Sorella Luna (1972, Brother Sun, Sister Moon). Guinness was himself received into the Roman Catholic Church in the mid-Fifties.

His script for The Horse's Mouth earned him an Oscar nomination.

He was reunited with Lean in 1957 and won the Best Actor Oscar for The Bridge on the River Kwai. Guinness has probably never been more intense, more fierce: his Colonel Nicholson, leader of British POWs held by the Japanese, is a fanatic, a figure of iron will perverted by blind pride: the skill and endurance of his men in building a bridge for the enemy means much more to him than the need to win the war.

Our Man in Havana followed in 1959.

Like many actors of his generation, Sir Alec (he was knighted in 1959) tended to play supporting cameo roles from the Sixties onward. He was Oscar-nominated as the old wizard in Star Wars (1977).

The making of Star Wars has passed into legend. Money ran out during the making the first film and in lieu of wages Guinness agreed to take a percentage of the profits from the film (but not the merchandise). When George Lucas inquired how Guinness had invested his share of the profits he replied that they were in his postal account!

Guinness grew to hate his involvement in Star Wars and reportedly claimed to throw away all Star Wars related fan mail without even opening it. And to be honest, Guinness was quite right to feel that way. Yes, it brought him rewards financially and generations of fans know him for this work but then many of them would know him for this work alone and that is wrong. There is no way Star Wars should overshadow the Ealing classics or the TV work or the work for Lean. Put simply, there are a hundred parts that the genius of Guinness should be remembered for before Star Wars.

In the 1970s Laurence Olivier advertised polaroid cameras on Japanese TV but he wasn't deluged with stills from these adverts asking him to sign them. So put into that context Guinness decision not to sign Star Wars merchandise after years of doing so becomes perfectly understandable.

A reunion with David Lean in A Passage to India (1984) was disappointing. One of his finest film role of the Eighties, as the sad old patriarch in Little Dorrit (1987), meant he was aptly reunited with Charles Dickens.

In television, he found he another great role: that of John Le Carré's master spy George Smiley in a pair of acclaimed 1980s TV mini series, Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and Smiley's People. Indeed, can anyone read the books and not see Alec Guinness' Smiley whenever the name appears on the page?

Sir Alec was married to Merula Salaman from the 20th June 1938 to his death on the 5th August 2000. Merula passed away on October 17 2000, just two months after her husband.

For many years they had lived in the Hampshire village of Petersfield. They had one son, actor Matthew Guinness (born 1940).

Guinness died of liver cancer in Midhurst, Sussex. When John Le Carré suggested to his widow that they should arrange a West End theatre night in memory of the great man he was reproached and reminded that Guinness would have hated such an idea.

His estate was valued at around £2.5 million.

Despite his modesty, Guinness will be remembered as not just one of the greats of both British cinema and theatre but world cinema at that. His body of work is unsurpassed and the later parts in terms of quality of the work and performance far outshine that of Olivier (who he had a quiet dislike for), Mills and even Gielgud.

No other actor has come close to his quite authority on screen, his discreet charm. And it is these qualities that stay with the viewer.

Sir Alec Guinness is one of the few actors who never disappointed in any role he played no matter the quality of the piece. And it is in his work and work alone that one can hope to discover anything about the man and even there we do not know where the part ends and the real Guinness begins.

And that is perhaps how it should be.

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filmography

1996 Eskimo Day (TV)