R.I.P. Glenda Jackson

[Mister Tee]

I've been occupied the last day-plus, and have neglected commenting on this passing of a major talent.

I'd never seen or heard of Glenda Jackson till the day in 1970 that I watched Women in Love. I'd been drawn into the movie by strong reviews, Alan Bates, and, yes, the to-be-infamous wrestling scene. But I left thinking about this actress who'd walked off with the movie. (It was only in retrospect that I discovered she'd been part of Marat/Sade, both on stage and film.) For most of the year, I thought her performance might be viewed as supporting -- it was a borderline case in terms of screen-time -- and I wondered if her unknown status might work against her getting nominated. But those were the years of "where are the roles for women?", and the critics' groups solved the issue by unanimously naming her the year's best in lead. Oscar nomination was thus a sure thing...but, going into the night of the awards, a whole lot of prognosticators thought Ali MacGraw would take the actual trophy. Jackson's win was a highlight of a night where the Scott victory had already made things memorable.

She quickly followed up with another excellent performance in Sunday, Bloody Sunday, appeared in a number of prominent if not necessarily great films (The Music Lovers, Mary Queen of Scots, The Romantic Englishwoman, Hedda), and triumphed as Elizabeth R on television.

Her second Oscar win will go kindly uncommented on.

Though she did a few mild commercial comedies (Hopscotch the best of them), she was never really the movie star type, and she spent much of the late 70s/80s doing niche items (including the quite solid, NY Critics-winning Stevie) and theatre. I saw her do Strange Interlude on Broadway, and honestly didn't love her work -- the diction thing Reza highlights was actually an impediment, as I could follow the cadences more than absorb the character.

And then, the great abdication. She stepped into British politics at a moment when it was least advantageous for her. Her Labour party had been battered by Thatcher for over a decade, and John Major's somewhat surprise win in 1992 extended the agony. But, eventually, Tony Blair came along, and Jackson was rewarded for her service with a cabinet minister's spot. (Though she later, to no one's real surprise, turned on Blair with the debacle of his Iraq war support.)

And then, yet a third act: retiring from Parliament, and resuming acting, to enormous acclaim, both onstage (King Lear and Three Tall Women) and on television (Elizabeth is Missing). All of this was so recent, her death came as a shock to many of us -- how could someone so at the top of her game be gone?

All tolled, a remarkable, singular career, excelling in more areas than most humans would ever attempt.

[Aceisgreat]

All due respect to Robson, Davis, Blanchett, Dench, and Mirren, she was the ultimate Elizabeth I (and not just because she had nine hours). In addition to the stage and screen, pull up any of her Parliament speeches. A truly remarkable icon.

[Reza]

What great diction, voice and command on stage and screen.

R.I.P.

[Big Magilla]

As good an ending as one might hope for:

"She forsook her north London stronghold in her later years for a basement flat in the south London home of her son, Dan Hodges – now a political columnist whose views were markedly different from her own – where she gardened, watched her grandson growing up, and continued to pour the finest sort of scorn on any passing folly or hypocrisy."

[Okri]

A true giant.