by Willard Manus
John Gielgud was one of the towering figures of 20th century theatre, a
man who cast long shadows as actor, director, designer and producer on both
sides of the Atlantic. His career, which spanned Edwardian times to the
end of the 20th century, included not only stage work but accomplishments
in the fields of film, television, radio and spoken word. Gielgud truly
was one of a kind and any writer trying to sum up his life would be hard-pressed
to do justice to it.
Jonathan Croall has taken on that challenge in GIELGUD, A THEATRICAL LIFE,
1904-2000, a biography published recently by Continuum (580 pages, $35).
Croall, a writer who comes from a theatrical family himself, did not have
an easy time while writing the book. Not only did Gielgud waver in his support
of it, but Croall had to go to war with a rival biographer (Sheridan Morley)
who tried to undermine his efforts all along the way.
though and the result is something for which every theatrelover should
be grateful. GIELGUD, A THEATRICAL LIFE is a triumph in every respect.
Lucid, detailed and readable, the book captures the essence of a man who
achieved memorable things in his lifetime, yet remained modest, self-deprecating
and even insecure, with a puckish sense of humor for good measure.
Gielguds great-aunt was Ellen Terry, one of Britains most
famous actresses. She was his inspiration and help-meet, a woman who gave
him moral support when he did battle with his father, who wanted him to
become an architect. She also gave him advice and encouragement when he
was a young, struggling actor. Gielgud had it tough at first; he nearly
flunked out of acting school, and spent many desperate years in rep companies
that barely paid him a living wage.
His first starring role was in Noel Cowards The Constant Nymph.
In those days British theatre was mostly comprised of light comedies and
musicals. Contemporary dramatic works had to be approved by the Lord Chamberlain,
who served as the guardian of public morals. Young, courageous theatre
folk like Gielgud tried to get around the censorship by forming private
theatre clubs, most of which performed on Sunday nights only.
Gielgud also showed his mettle by rejecting the West End for the chance
to join the Old Vic. The pay was much less, but he knew he needed to learn
his craft, especially when it came to performing Shakespeare. His coach
was Harcourt Williams, a man who looked like a harassed beekeeper,
but who taught him the fine points of speaking Shakespearean verse. He
ruled us by affection and by the trust he had in us, a trust almost childlike
in its naivete, Gielgud said.
equally well-liked by his fellow actors. His keenness, his modesty,
his infinite capacity for work, spread their influence through the company,
one of them recalled.
Gielgud got his chance to play Macbeth (isnt it lovely, the
dear boy is blossoming, said his co-lead, Lilian Baylis), but it
was his Hamlet that made him a star. The critics were stunned by the work
of this 26-year-old, slim, elegant actor with a melodious voice. His
Hamlet is noble in conception, one of them wrote. It has been
thought out in study, and is lived upon the stage with the result that
you feel these things are happening to Hamlet for the first time, and
that he is, here and now, creating the words which shall express the new-felt
After that, Gielgud never stopped working, right up until the age of ninety-six.
As Croall writes, he took part in 130 roles in over 200 productions, appeared
in over 70 films, 60 television plays, and innumerable radio plays...and
one of his last, King Lear, was on his 90th birthday.
Gielgud directed over 80 plays, was a pioneering actor-manager,
and a great discoverer and nurturer of talent in others: numerous actors,
playwrights and designers owed their start in the theatre to him. He was
also a talented writer, an elegant stylist and witty storyteller who produced
several entertaining volumes of memoirs and books on the theatre.
One of his
closest friends was fellow-actor Ralph Richardson, who called him a kind
of brilliant butterfly. Gielgud himself admitted that his feminine
side sometimes took over on stage (his career survived a homosexual scandal),
but he could also summon up the artistry to play such masculine roles
as Lear and Prospero with stunning, ferocious power.
Gielgud was a titan and Croalls book pays him proper tribute.