Q: Dear Sir, I just wanted to say I think you are a great actor, so
much that I do not recognize you from film to film. How do you
achieve this?
A: One of the very few books about acting that I discovered as a
kid dealt with makeup for the stage. It had double-page spreads of black
and white photographs, showing how to turn a Caucasian face into "a
red Indian brave" and "a Negro type" - these were the
politically incorrect days of the Black and White Minstrel Show on
BBC television. There were also diagrams showing how a young face could be
disguised — thanks to Leichner greasepaint — as an old one, wrinkles of
"lake" colour highlit with no.5 (ivory). There were also
impenetrable lessons on how to fashion a beard and moustache from a hank
of crepe hair.
At school and university, actors applied their own makeup and I
kept my Leichner, powders and brushes in the traditional cigar box. Wigs
from Charles Fox were mailed from London and rarely fitted snugly: they
had canvas fronts which had to be smeared with a base colour to match the
forehead's complexion. I began to look out for professional makeup on
stage, screen and in publicity photographs. There was a lot of it about
and Laurence Olivier was renowned for his false noses and complicated makeup
charts. As a tyro actor at Coventry I was restrained from following the
great man's example by slapping too much paint on, although early on I
managed a convincing octogenarian face as the butler in Black
Coffee. Even as a character my own age I tried to alter nature and
emphasise eyes and mouth to accommodate the footlights and bright lights
from front of house. What we all did was to apply a mask.
Nowadays, stage
lighting is less constant and it is impossible to devise makeup that is
convincing under the varied cross-lights and overhead lamps currently
favoured by lighting designers, relative newcomers to the theatre. In the
'50s and '60s lighting was devised by the director. In my early work,
playing a new part every two weeks for the regular audience, it was fun to
try and be unrecognisable or at least to vary one's appearance. Hair is
the most crucial feature of the head when the audience is too far to see
even a reddened mouth or eyes outlined with mascara. I became adept with
Brylcreem and brush. This wasn't just to entertain the audience with
versatility — it was a quick way of discovering visual characteristics
which, once I had discovered them in the dressing-room mirror, could then
be extended through gesture and gait into someone other than smooth-faced
Ian McKellen. I was impatient for real wrinkles and lines.
Although in the film and television industries, makeup and hair
are applied by experts, I am intrigued by their art and grateful for it.
There are many actors who seem to think it appropriate that all the
characters they play should look the same and they resist all efforts to
alter their shape and the hairstyle which suits them best. I am of the
contrary school, happy on occasion to have been noted as a protean actor
whose craft lies partly in disguise. Makeup doesn't always disguise. I
remember an actor playing the Duke in Merchant of Venice who wanted
to look different from his other roles in a Shakespeare season at
Stratford-upon-Avon. He wore a wig and false eyebrows and had a beard. He
even stuck on false cheeks and lengthened his nose with putty. He had so
expanded his features that he ended up looking just like his usual self
but with an over-sized head!
The Scarlet Pimpernel
Q: The first time I remember seeing you perform was in The Scarlet
Pimpernel when I was about 14 years old. At the time, I thought of you
only as the villain but as I've watched the movie over and over again, I
have grown to appreciate your powerful and moving performance in the role
of Chauvelin. What is so attractive about that character?
Merci beaucoup. I always thought it odd that the Scarlet
Pimpernel, the ultimate monarchist aristocrat, should be more of a hero
for audiences in the USA than his arch republican rival. Chauvelin's
political savagery is, after all, at the service of the revolution on which
the United States based much of its Constitution.