A Tribute to Harry Andrews

by Alan Bates

published in MEMORIES, foreword by
Jonathan Miller with photographs by Gemma Levine
in aid of the
Alzheimer's Disease Society
Ebury Press, ISBN 0 09 186087 3

WHEN I THINK of Harry, I now think of someone who signified a great deal to me, although I was not aware of this at the time. In retrospect, I can say that Harry was the first person in my career who represented stability, security in himself, self-awareness -- a man who knew where he was, and had no false ideas about anything. We meet only a few people like this in our lives, and we do not always realise until too late just how significant they have been.
I wish I had known the first half of Harry's career, which was obviously spectacular when I talk to his friends and contemporaries. After starting at the Liverpool Rep in 1933, John Gielgud took him to New York in his "Hamlet "of 1935; when they returned he appeared in the West End in various plays, and then Gielgud took him up again for his own company. [photo at left: with John Gielgud on the set of "Saint Joan," 1957. Photo by Bob Willoughby, globalgallery.com]
Subsequently, Harry joined Laurence Olivier's Old Vic Company. It is at this point that his roles seem to increase in importance and stature.
Then came ten glorious years with the Stratford Memorial Theatre, where he established himself as one of our finest actors, and was described by Tynan as 'the backbone of British theatre'. Harry himself said something like 'I don't want to be a star -- I want to be a good actor in good parts'. Well, he was what he wanted to be, but he was more. He could not help his charisma making him a star. His physical presence and voice made him unforgettable, and his subtlety and sensitivity made him, to my mind, great.
Harry always found it difficult to learn lines, and I think it is only fair to mention his great courage in taking on important parts, knowing that he had a handicap with his memory -- later in his career he played increasingly smaller roles. This of course, was a huge bonus for everyone else because it gave them a rare opportunity of working with a great actor in a minor part.
When I worked with him in the early 1980s in "A Patriot For Me," the whole company adored him, not just because of his humour and his splendour as a character, but because at his late age in life he was so interested in the rest of us and played no games of hierarchy. His company spirit was tremendously evident when Ron Eyre, the director, asked for volunteers to take pat in the famous drag ball sequence. Ron said, "We simply haven't got enough people, so we need anyone who has got time for a quick change in this scene.'
Harry was the first to volunteer.
Ron took me aside and said, 'I think this is a rather rash request on my part -- what drag costume exists that could possibly disguise Harry Andrews?"
In the end, they settled on a huge kaftan and a yashmak, made him a fortune teller, sat him down and surrounded him with a lot of other people in elaborate costumes. Harry's commitment really was 100 per cent.
Fortunately, his memory problems did not prevent his continuing his career in the cinema, and there are great performances on film right up to, and including, his last two or three years, with beautiful performances from him on screen.
Harry loved nothing more than to make a wicked remark, but one always laughed because you knew that he had a huge affection for the person he was talking about, and it was only his affection which made him mischievous. He was one of the great ones -- never to be forgotten. |||