Character Actor In A Movie Star’s Body: Roger Livesey

By Michelle Patterson

Acting isn’t that hard to figure out; either you keep it simple or you make it seem simple without giving away your hand. While I’m not an actor, I do know that as a woman in day-to-day life, I have to be able to become a different woman to different people. This is something we all do; people can tell when we really believe in what we are saying and when we do not. Life is full of performances, which makes it that much easier to decide who is a good actor and who is not. The act itself is invisible and instead of seeing a character, we see a person.

Roger Livesey in
The Life and Death
of Colonel Blimp, 1943

A truly successful actor must possess three essential talents. One, he must inhabit the character in such a way so that the character has the ability to exist outside of celluloid, as the members of the audience want to know this person could exist in their world, or at least know there is the possibility that an intriguing person is just the man sitting next to them on the bus or tailing them closely in the grocery store. Two, the actor must enhance the performances of his co-stars on the screen. Three, the actor must never let ’em see that he fears the process. He must have it all under control or at least it must appear that he THINKS he does.

Ironically, one of the very best to ever appear onscreen was an actor who found himself more on the stage than film: Roger Livesey. Yet, the filmmaking team of Powell & Pressburger was able to use him to a delightful advantage in three films: The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, I Know Where I’m Going!, and A Matter of Life and Death.

Livesey’s booming voice speaks of an unparalleled confidence. Along with the tendency to level his gaze at his female counterparts, the effect is of an actor more virile or charming than almost any other. Witness the scene of the traditional céilidh dance in I Know Where I’m Going! All Livesey does is gaze at actress Wendy Hiller (portraying Joan Webster) while she watches the dance. His body language becomes relaxed, then tense, then relaxed again, all the while slightly drawing his body closer and closer to her. As the negative space between them shrinks, his attraction to her obviously grows. What makes it all the more blistering is that he becomes increasingly amused as a wry smile spreads across his face.

I Know Where I’m Going!, 1945

Livesey’s every action onscreen appears spontaneous. It doesn’t feel quite right that he comes across so brash to a woman about to marry another man, but his ability to show the audience his need to live in that moment causes them to want him to succeed. It is also incredibly sexy, which is quite a feat considering the idea that the characters are fully clothed, barely touching, and not holding eye contact.

Much like Cary Grant, also a character actor in a movie star’s body, Livesey always seems in on some private joke unbeknownst to the audience. He can exhibit vulnerability, however, and his characters never shy away from looking just a little bit foolish in order to learn a lesson. First and foremost, this stems from good writing, but when an actor can submit to and believe in those types of feelings, the audience knows it. Because of this skill, he achieves a connection with each and every one of his co-stars, whether it’s a waiter serving him coffee or a kindred spirit found within a German soldier.

In The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, his portrayal of the main character is still one who lives in the moment. However, he builds on the wisdom gained from the experiences and ever-so-slightly pauses to reflect before continuing on to do what he believes to be the right thing. From the very first time he appears in the film, Livesey makes the gaze go around the frame to take in every detail, while at the same time never missing the slight changes in rhythm of the interplay. We see the process, admire the process, and then forget it altogether because of the way he distracts us with his twinkling presence.

A Matter of Life and Death, 1946

Livesey’s role in A Matter of Life and Death is a difficult one to appreciate as much as the previous two in that he must temper all of his natural gifts until the absolute right moment calls for them. Since he portrays the straight man to David Niven’s desperate dreamer, he must also downplay his natural tendency to both ground a scene and add bemusement. Livesey can only express concern and take great care to show a sense of tenderness, only one which must be manly in nature. When the time finally arrives, he calls upon his facility to bring a sense of gravity and great vulnerability to what could have been a ham-and-cheese sandwich speech regarding British-American relations. Instead, it is one that is stirring. The instant he allows himself to be caught up in and proud of what he says, the audience cannot help but come close to tears.

Roger Livesey is the perfect kind of actor to admire as he causes us to think that there is someone up there we can care about and, beyond doubt, know. His “tip ‘o the cap” style of acting is not only fun to watch, but also one to respect. And lest you think that I forgot other more hard-boiled/real actors that soon followed in British film like Michael Caine, Richard Burton, and Richard Harris, Livesey still holds it above them all.

Rather than default to a sneer à la Caine or use his athletic build to intimidate like Burton or collapse into a fit of uncontrolled rage as Harris was prone to do, Livesey used a subtler approach that didn’t scream, “I’m acting here!” Again, he connected to the material in a way the audience could see happening in the day-to-day and yet never used a touch so delicate that it would be seen as pretentious or stiff. There are no hard decisions when we see an actor like him perform because after his films are over, he leaves us with the belief that not only is he real, he could be one of us.

RELATED LINKS:

A Young Person’s Guide To: Powell & Pressburger, Popshifter November/December 2009 issue