The Actor Vanishes

Throughout film history, there have been any number of great actors who, for better or worse, are now forgotten or worse yet, ignored. Actors like Leslie Howard, now better known as the guy who played Ashley Wilkes in Gone with the Wind than for his better, more interesting roles in Pygmalion, The Scarlet Pimpernel, and 49th Parallel, who were not only popular in their time, but quite powerful as well. I don't know what it is that makes us forget men like Howard but remember Olivier, except that Sir Larry had the good fortune to live a long and full life and Howard died tragically at the age of 42. But today, in this post, I am not concerned with Howard, but with another man, very much like him, who is too little regarded as a film actor.

That man is Michael Redgrave.

If you know Michael Redgrave at all, you probably know him from one of several sources: as the father of Vanessa, Lynn and Corin Redgrave and the grandfather of Natasha Richardson; as the third in the trifecta of great British stage actors, alongside Olivier, Gielgud and, at times, Ralph Richardson; or perhaps, if you really like Hitchcock, you may know him as the romantic lead of 'The Lady Vanishes'. In any event, Redgrave is certainly less of a footnote than Leslie Howard, but here is the crux of the matter: how many films have you actually seen him in? Supposing that you have seen The Lady Vanishes, oh Hitchcockian, have you seen any others? The Browning Version, The Captive Heart, Oh! What a Lovely War!, Mourning Becomes Electra, The Dam Busters, Secret Beyond the Door, The Stars Look Down, Kipps, The Quiet American, Dead of Night?

He worked, in his day, with some of the greatest actors and directors: Alfred Hitchcock, Carol Reed, Anthony Asquith. His first film role was as a captain in Hitchcock's 'Secret Agent', which also boasted a cast including Peter Lorre, Madeleine Carroll, Robert Young, and...John Gielgud. He was first and foremost a stage actor, which may account for the lack of films available on DVD, in the US at least. But he was a film actor too, and a damn fine one at that.

Perhaps Redgrave's brilliance lies in the fact that he, initially at least, was not comfortable on film. He did The Lady Vanishes because he 'had a family to support'; he was uncomfortable with the notion that he did not have time to prepare the same as he did on stage. And, in the end, he was dissatisfied with his performance. But turn again to 'The Lady Vanishes' and actually watch the man. He certainly does not look uncomfortable. He looks relaxed and speaks his lines as nonchalantly as his character demands. It is not merely because of Hitchcock's masterful direction that The Lady Vanishes is often ranked as the Master's best British film, and often comes up on Top Ten lists. Redgrave certainly has a better time of it than his friend John Gielgud (thought I adore Secret Agent), who at times looks like he's lost the will to act.

Redgrave in 'The Lady Vanishes' has no such problem. Consider for a moment the introduction of his character Gilbert:

Redgrave's performance is here vital to an understanding of the film, and indeed to its outlook on love. We have just seen Iris discussing, in rather depressing terms, her prospective marriage to what one of her friends describes as a 'blue-blooded check chaser'. When we are given our one and only glimpse of Charles, we are struck both by his similarity to Redgrave, but also the very important differences. That Gilbert is better looking is just the surface; his vitality, classlessness, and association with music and dance puts him in stark contrast to the impression we first receive of Charles, and the physical appearance of the man himself. Far from being the check chaser feared by Iris and her friends, Gilbert is the personification of joy. He dances, he plays the clarinet, he even sings! And he is cheeky enough to walk right into a woman's room and propose that they literally sleep together. Part of the breezy, charming, romantic nature of the film rests securely on Redgrave's shoulders; without Gilbert, his clarinet, and his carefree nature, Miss Froy is never found, the villains win the day, and Iris falls into a loveless marriage. But that would never do.



Redgrave had a tendency to vanish into his roles; very seldom are we aware of the actor himself. Comparing his performance in 'The Lady Vanishes' to his later portrayal of Orin in 'Mourning Becomes Electra' to his staid, understated performance as Crocker-Harris in 'The Browning Version' brings up the great breadth of his ability. A classically trained actor, he nonetheless often embodies qualities we associate with the Method men of the 1950s and later. He vanishes. Vanishes into the character, into the setting. Vanishes not just behind grayed hair or spectacles, flashy white clothes or a loose bow-tie, but vanishes into himself. For all intents and purposes, Redgrave's great quality was in never being Michael Redgrave. Olivier, great actor though he was, could never really say that.