Richard Griffiths: An actor with a touch of genius about him
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Richard Griffiths, who has died aged 65, was a character actor with a touch of genius about him. He often played borderline creepy types - the camp uncle, the school teacher with amorous designs on his pupils - but he brought such humour and pathos to these roles that you always rooted for him.
There was nothing self-effacing about Griffiths. He said in interviews that he didn’t like the way he looked but his enormous size certainly gave him presence. His performances continually wrong-footed audiences. They expected broad, pantomime-style mugging. After all, Griffiths was a big man who used big gestures and often seemed as if he had just walked out of a Charles Dickens novel. However, there was invariably delicacy and subtlety in his work too - a sense of yearning and melancholy that took you by surprise.
This was evident in one of his most famous roles as Hector, the school teacher “pissing away his life” in a godforsaken school in The History Boys. For all the comic schtick in the classroom and the high minded asides about art and literature, Griffiths conveyed very movingly the character’s sense of disappointment about the route his life had taken.
As Uncle Monty in Withnail And I, Griffiths tapped into a long tradition of British eccentricity stretching back to Gilbert Harding and beyond. He was wondrously camp, holding forth about everything from his liking for firm carrots to his disappointment at never playing Hamlet. Even here, though, he never quite teeters off into complete ridiculousness. We still feel for Uncle Monty, even as Richard E. Grant yells at him he’s a “terrible c**t!”
Griffiths’ range was wider than might have been expected. There did seem to be a lot of uncles on the CV, for instance his turn as the (wholly obnoxious) Uncle Vernon in the Harry Potter films. He told one journalist he took this role so he could be “horrible to kids.” That remark partially explains why he wasn’t typecast. He had a spikiness and aggressiveness. He wasn’t going to be anybody’s cuddly mascot.
Surprisingly, for an actor with such a lengthy stage and screen career, he often complained that he didn’t like being photographed. His huge size, about which he was acutely self-conscious, was a result of a glandular condition. In a still image, that size was all too obvious. When he actually acting, audiences would be too caught up in his performance to be worrying about how big he was.
Many felt that the film adaptation of The History Boys wasn’t on the level of the play. Nonetheless, it preserves what was surely Griffiths’ greatest performance. Along with Withnail And I, it will ensure that Griffiths is remembered and cherished as one of the great British character actors of his era.
Subscribe to Independent Premium to bookmark this article
Want to bookmark your favourite articles and stories to read or reference later? Start your Independent Premium subscription today.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments