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alec guinness (1914-2000)
biography michael balcon
richard attenborough
isabelle adjani |
guinness
[ a l e c g u i n n e s s : b i o g r a p h y ]
"I shrivel up every time someone mentions Star Wars to me."
During the 1979 British Academy Film and
Television Arts awards, Sir Alec Guinness,
coming forward to collect the Best Actor prize
for his brilliant portrayal of secret service man
George Smiley in the BBC's Tinker, Tailor,
Soldier, Spy, seemed daunted at the prospect of
addressing the audience and the TV cameras.
When, shy and diffident, he eventually stepped
up to the microphone, his hurried thank-you
suggested all the embarrassment of a schoolboy at a prize-giving, not the charismatic ease of a much-feted star acknowledging another
tribute to his genius. But then Alec Guinness was
a supreme example of the actor who hides
behind the mask of his characters and who
prefers to let his performances speak for him.
Consequently he was an unknown quantity.
Very few critics penetrated the makeup:
the nearest that biographer Kenneth Tynan
came was when he described Guinness as:
Guinness
himself has remarked.
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.
filmography
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