Cultural Obituaries

It’s been a tough time for the arts as three great proponents of culture have died recently. Elisabeth Beresford (August 1929 – December 2010) wrote an enchanting ‘Magic’ series, but is best known for her wonderful Wombles who made recycling and environmental concerns the norm for children decades before Al Gore got in on the act. I have already raved about these cuddly conservationists before so will leave it at that.

I was also sad to hear of the death of Dick King-Smith (1922-2011). When I worked at a book shop in Manchester, I knew that if children had already read Enid Blyton, Roald Dahl and Michael Bond, then Jill Murphy, Michael Morpurgo, Morris Gleitzman or Dick King-Smith would be my next recommendation. Well-written stories with solid, memorable characters and cheerfully direct narration; I like them so I’m sure that the little people must have!

Bad news comes in threes, apparently, and the death of Pete Postlethwaite (1946-2011) rounds out the triumvirate. He was an amazing and versatile actor whom I admired in everything I saw. From early appearances in Coronation Street; Victoria Wood on TV; Minder; The Professionals; Lovejoy; Boon and Casualty to later roles in sci-fi rehashes, he always portrayed complete commitment and belief in his character. He achieved greatness through hard work and self-belief, taking a job in a sheet-metal factory to pay his way through Bristol Old Vic theatre school, before starting his career at the Liverpool Everyman theatre.

Unfortunately I never got to see him on stage, although his list of theatre credits is impressive: Scaramouche Jones; King Lear; Coriolanus; Duchess of Malfi (Antonio); Titus Andronicus (Aaron); Henry V (Exeter); Richard III (Hastings); Macbeth (Macbeth and Banquo – in different productions); Cyrano de Bergerac (Baker); A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Bottom); Every Man in His Humour; The Tempest (Prospero); The Rise and Fall of Little Voice (Ray Say). He worked with some of the best theatre directors around – Adrian Noble; Trevor Swann; Peter Brook; Trevor Nunn; Bill Alexander; Terry Hands; George Costigan; Greg Hersov; Sam Mendes – which only adds to his impressive CV.

Descriptions of his physical appearance are none-too complimentary – including a face like ‘a stone archway’ and ‘a bag of spanners’ – but no-one can doubt his acting ability (Steven Spielberg called him ‘the best actor in the world’) or his popularity (he was awarded an OBE in 2004). He is probably best-know for his film work; he appeared in over 100 films including The Usual Suspects (one of my favourite films), The Constant Gardener (a wonderful film despite the dreary title), Amistad (Spielberg’s well-meaning but glib abolition drama) and Among Giants (the only film I’ve ever seen about painting pylons, also starring Rachel Griffiths, with whom he gets a love interest).

Daniel Day Lewis generally receives all the credit for In the Name of the Father; a terribly flawed film which nonetheless captures a time and feeling in history, due in no small part to the stoic heroism of Pete Postlethwaite’s Giuseppe Conlon. He is indubitably the best thing in Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo & Juliet for the ADHD generation, and I most recently saw him playing a cameo as the dying father who is behind the whole plot in Christopher Nolan’s mind-bending Inception.

I shall remember him best, however, for his depiction of Danny the band leader of a miners’ band in the brilliant Brassed Off. With the perfect blend of pride, humility, and sensitivity, he delivers one of the best screen-monologues ever. Take it away, Pete!

The Ultimate Expression

Chris Sievey, creator of Frank Sidebottom, has died, aged 54 after suffering from cancer.

 He was what is known as a 'cult comedy entertainer' which pretty much sums up his bizarre show and engaging manner. He first came to my attention when Him Outdoors and I were courting. He used to play me his records - Timperly Blues; Guess Who's Been on Match of the Day etc. His nasal delivery and insistence on singing versions of famous American songs with English grammar and an off-Manchester accent intrigued me.

I suppose he was a bit of a student cult favourite (Frank Sidebottom, not Him Outdoors) and we saw him perform at pubs in Manchester and at Reading Festival: they used to have a comedy tent - do they still?

I was enthralled by the way he could be so expressive without having any expression. You sort of transposed your own feelings onto his papier-mâché head, and you could envisage raised eyebrows, moues of disapproval, frowns of bewilderment and smiles of pure joy - even though, obviously, his features never moved.

There is something intrinsically compelling about a person in a mask: think Carnivale; mummers' plays;  masquerade balls; Phantom of the Opera; any number of comic book characters from Batman to Zoro; mascots; Walt Disney figures; horror films (Scream; It; Friday the Thirteenth).  

I remember being slightly terrified by the ballet dancers of Beatrix Potter because I couldn't see their eyes. I could feel Squirrel Nutkin's pain because he danced it beautifully, but I couldn't gauge whether he needed to be comforted or whether he was plotting revenge because his facial expression was hidden. The fact that he was an extremely large rodent appeared not to bother me.

This was probably all part of the fascination with acting. You have to do it with your whole body. And obviously, your face is one of the most important aspects of this, but if that is removed from the equation, you can still develop characterisation and appeal or repel people by your mannerisms (not to mention voice).

So I learned a lot from Frank Sidebottom (and Little Frank, of course). He is part of my student life in Manchester and I will always remember that fondly. As Martin Kelner wrote in this interview, first published in the Independent in 1991, "I have entirely forgotten that underneath the papier-mâché head is a nice chap called Chris Sievey, with a wife, and children, and a mortgage, who used to front a rather good Manchester post-punk band called The Freshies."

He really was larger than life. Oh yes he was; he really was. Thank you!