Alan Rickman 5 years on

Five years since we lost Alan Rickman. Not just a great actor, but the kind of man who would quietly post cheques to struggling fellow actors to enable them to keep going. Our family was lucky and honoured to have him as a friend.

Somewhere there’s a lovely picture of the time we did a weekend self-hypnosis course with Alan and Rima, Anthony and Carolyn, my nephew Max, Duncan Kenworthy, and me. At one point we were given massive safety pins to put through our flesh. Alan did it in a flash, and felt no pain. “I’ve done it!” he said in that chocolatey drawl of his. He was easily the best at “getting into state”. Of course he was.

RIP

 
Cinque anni da quando abbiamo perso Alan Rickman. Non solo un grande attore, ma il tipo d’uomo che avrebbe tranquillamente inviato assegni a colleghi in difficoltà per permettere loro di andare avanti con la loro carriera. La nostra famiglia è stata fortunata e onorata di averlo come amico.
 
Da qualche parte c’è una bella foto di quando abbiamo fatto un corso di autoipnosi nel fine settimana con Alan e Rima, Anthony e Carolyn, mio nipote Max, Duncan Kenworthy ed io. A un certo punto ci hanno dato delle enormi spille da balia, con cui trafiggerci la pelle, fino in fondo. Alan lo fece in un lampo, e non sentì alcun dolore. “Ce l’ho fatta!”, disse in quel suo accento di cioccolato. Era facilmente il migliore nell “mettersi in stato”. Ma certo che lo era.
 
RIP

Michelle Guish

from 24 Jan 2020

Shakespeare in Love
Four Weddings and a Funeral
The English Patient
Truly Madly Deeply
The Singing Detective
 
The list is looong,
And the work was fantastic.
That’s why Michelle Guish was the casting directors’ casting director.
 
But she was also our “industry Mum”. She hired my partner, Sarah Beardsall, straight out of college, and looked after us both, and taught us the virtues of craft, diligence and integrity in our work.
 
When I was broke, I’d find a tenner in my jacket pocket, and know it was Mishi quietly looking out for me.
 
Whenever I fill a dishwasher, still, I remember the machine she bought us for our first kitchen in 1993.
 
Or how she took our first born, rested him on her shoulder, and didn’t so much pat as whack him into calmness.
 
A no-nonsense person who could judge – and crush – your terrible ideas with a raised eyebrow or a deft squish of her brightly-lipsticked mouth.
 
Who loved actors, directors and the business of storytelling.
 
Who owned every single room she sat in.
 
Had waiters or shop assistants gladly running to service her every need.
 
Whose personality was plus, triple plus — and oh, that laugh, piercing and infectious, that went with it.
 
Who could be the centre of everything and yet, and yet, was so private too. You won’t find much about her online, and even less FROM her.
 
She had that extraordinary personality, but she valued professionalism too. She would never gossip. She didn’t schmooze. She cared only about getting the work right. She was the real deal. She was kosher.
 
And the thought that she is gone….?
 
Just like a Mum, you could call her — Sarah did, and I knew I could — and go straight to the heart of your troubles, and hope for sound advice.
 
And just like a Mum, the idea that you can’t call her any more… that that laugh has gone, that you’ll never see those censorious eyebrows and that gorgeously expressive face again… it’s too much to bear.
 
 
RIP Michelle Guish
9.3.1954 – 24.1.2020
 
The “Guish look”, from James Francis Trezza.
from James Francis Trezza