Brittish Actors

Collection of Classic Brittish Actors

David Hemmings
David Hemmings
David Hemmings

David Hemmings came to international fame with his central performance in the 1966 film “Blow Up” which represented Swinging London of the 1960’s.   He went on to star in such movies as “The Charge of the Light Brigade” and “Alfred the Great”.   His last performance was in “The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen”.   He died suddenly while on location in Budapest in 2003.   He was 62 years old.

“The Guardian” obituary by Tim Pulleine:

David Hemmings, who has died suddenly aged 62 following a heart attack while filming Samantha’s Child in Romania, had a long and varied screen career as an actor, director and producer. But he will be remembered, above all, for his performance in Michelangelo Antonioni’s 1966 film Blow Up, that defining reflection on the swinging 60s in which the Hemmings character – a fashionable photographer reportedly based on David Bailey – is eventually brought face to face with the illusoriness not only of success but of reality itself.

The film’s conclusion, in which the photographer is gradually torn into participation in an imaginary game of tennis, must surely rank as one of the most mesmerising in all cinema. Hemmings’s physical demeanour, combining down-to-earth chippiness with an almost ethereal air of fragility, admirably embodied the themes of a groundbreaking movie, which dissolved the barriers between art and popular cinema.

His co-star list in Blow Up also said much about the talented pool of actors then available to British cinema – Vanessa Redgrave, Sarah Miles, Jane Birkin, Varuschka and Peter Bowles, who became Hemmings’s best friend in the years to come.

Born in Guildford, Surrey, and educated at Glyn College, Epsom, Hemmings had, in fact, begun as a child actor, as well as having been a notable boy soprano, and featuring in English Opera Group performances of the works of Benjamin Britten. After his voice broke, he studied painting at Epsom School of Art, where he staged his first exhibition at the age of 15. He returned to singing in his early 20s, making nightclub appearances before moving on to the stage and gradually into movies.

He first appeared in films as early as 1954, with the Ealing Studios production of The Rainbow Jacket, and took a small role in Otto Preminger’s 1957 version of St Joan. By the turn of the next decade, he was just the right age – and of the right tousled, contemporary appearance – to represent the then burgeoning youth culture on the screen.

Thus he was in pop music quickies like Live It Up (1963) and, more substantially, in an early Michael Winner movie about a group of layabouts in a seaside town, The System (1964), co-starring with Oliver Reed. Hemmings and Reed were, in a sense, the yin and yang of that era’s characteristic look: Hemmings blond and slight, Reed dark and brooding. Nearly 40 years on, by odd coincidence, both men were to appear in Gladiator (2000), during the filming of which Reed died (obituary, May 3 1999).

The acclaim visited upon Blow Up converted Hemmings into an international name and an exemplar of the supposedly liberated alternative culture. But despite appearing alongside Jane Fonda in Roger Vadim’s pop art fantasy Barbarella (1968), he resisted any too ready identification of this kind, notably by playing in two ambitious historical movies, as the ill-fated Captain Nolan in The Charge Of The Light Brigade (1968) and taking the title role of the somewhat misconceived Alfred The Great (1969). Both films sought, it should be said, to tap into the counter-cultural attitudes of the time in which they were made, partly via the presence of Hemmings himself.

In 1972, Hemmings ventured into directing, taking on the suspense thriller Running Scared, in which the chief role was played by Gayle Hunnicutt, his wife from 1968 to 1974, and with whom he had earlier co-starred in Fragment Of Fear (1970). Running Scared, which Hemmings also co-scripted with Clive Exton, was an ambitious, if ultimately flawed, exercise in psychological tension, made in an elliptical narrative style seemingly influenced by Antonioni.

The following year, he directed a more avowedly offbeat picture, The 14, a strange tale, inspired by fact, of a misfit family of four children and their vicissitudes in the wake of their single mother’s demise. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it failed to achieve wide popularity.

Hemmings also formed, with his business partner, John Daly, the Hemdale Corporation, which for some years became a significant force in film production and distribution. But while assuming an executive profile, he continued to appear in front of the camera, sometimes in rather unexpected contexts, such as that of the Italian horror movie Profondo Rosso (1976). His other film roles during the decade were as varied as an upright bomb disposal officer in Juggernaut (1974) and a scheming criminal in The Squeeze (1977).

By the 1980s, however, television work had taken precedence, and he was to be found directing such shows as Magnum PI, Airwolf, The A-Team and Quantum Leap.

Gradually, in fact – and adeptly – Hemmings was shading, as he approached middle age and became physically bulkier, into the domain of the character actor. He gave, for instance, a notable performance as a hardbitten and vindictive policeman, doing his best to frame a suspect, in the New Zealand-made Beyond Reasonable Doubt (1980) – a part in which he embodied a malign authority figure startlingly in contrast to the iconoclastic youthfulness with which he had been identified in earlier times.

The following year, also in New Zealand, he directed and produced a rip-roaring buried treasure yarn, Race For The Yankee Zephyr, again affording conspicuous contrast with the psychological inflections of Running Scared.

It cannot be claimed that, in more recent years, Hemmings maintained a very consistent screen presence, although he continued to be active. Such roles as the colliery owner in Ken Russell’s 1989 film of DH Lawrence’s The Rainbow offered no very great opportunity, and directorial ventures like The Dark Horse (1991) seem not to have been widely seen.

However, there was Cassius, in Ridley Scott’s Gladiator, The League Of Extraorinary Gentlemen (2003) and, more memorably, his appearance in the film version of Graham Swift’s elegiac novel Last Orders (2001), about a group of friends travelling to the seaside to dispose of the ashes of the first of their number to die. The presence of Hemmings – along with other such actors as Michael Caine and Tom Courtenay, who also made their reputations in the new wave British cinema of the 1960s – gave tangible presence to the themes of mortality and changing times. Hemmings’s characterisation of cheery ruefulness in the face of ageing seems all the more plangent in the light of his own early death.

In an interview with the Guardian two years ago, Hemmings was asked if he would still like to direct movies. “Never say never, but I will never direct again,” he replied. “I’m back from America, and I think the time has come to say that all those wonderful Malibu parties are behind me. I have no ambitions, except to paint. I live in a market town, in a mill house with the river running both sides and Somerfield’s car park only a loose nine-iron away, and I really, really, really, love it.”

He is survived by his wife Lucy; a daughter Deborah by his first marriage to Genista Ouvry; a son Nolan by his marriage to Gayle Hunnicutt; and four children, George, Edward, Charlotte and William, by his third marriage, to Prudence J de Casembroot.

· David Leslie Edward Hemmings, actor, director and producer, born November 18 1941; died December 3 2003

To view “The Guardian” Obituary, please click here.

David Hemmings
David Hemmings
Peter Sellers
Peter Sellers
Peter Sellers
 

Peter Sellers wasone of the great film comics of all time.   He was born in Portsmouth in 1925.   He began his career with ‘The Goons’ on BBC Radio.   His first film was “Penny Points to Paradise” in 1951.   He had a major role in the Ealing classic of 1955, “The Ladykillers”.   He made many terrific movies in the the U.K. in the late 1950’s including “The Smallest Show on Earth” and “The Naked Truth”.   In 1963 he had enormous success with “The Pink Panter”.   He went to Hollywood soon therafter to make “Kiss Me Stupid” but suffered a heart attack and was replaced by Dean Martin.   After recovering he went on to make “What’s New Pussycat” and “The Wrong Box”.   One of his last roles was “Being There” and he died of another heart attack in 1980 at the age of 54.

TCM overview:

One of the most accomplished comic actors of the late 20th century, Peter Sellers breathed life into the accident-prone Inspector Clouseau in “The Pink Panther” (1963) and its three sequels, as well as such classics as “Lolita” (1962), “Dr. Strangelove” (1964), “The Party” (1968) and “Being There” (1979). The son of English vaudevillians, his ability to completely transform himself into outrageous comic characters received its first showcase on the legendary radio series “The Goon Show” in the 1950s. Film roles in the 1950s and 1960s were devoted to his knack for mimicry of accents and character types, with Stanley Kubrick’s “Lolita” and “Dr. Strangelove” underscoring his talent for drama as well. His best-known role of Inspector Clouseau surfaced in 1963, and he would return, sometimes reluctantly, to the franchise throughout his life before scoring a personal triumph as the simple-minded gardener who influences the Presidency in Hal Ashby’s “Being There” (1980). Off camera, Sellers could be cold, cruel, even unstable, but when the cameras were rolling, he showed a dedication to performance and humor that made him one of the greatest inspirations to comedians and film fans for decades.

He began life as Richard Henry Sellers on Sept. 8, 1925 in the seaside resort town of Southsea, in Portsmouth, England. His family, who were performers on the British vaudeville circuit, bestowed a particularly morbid nickname upon their son: Peter was the name of a brother who did not survive birth. He took up his family’s profession at an early age, dancing and singing alongside his mother in stage shows when he was just five years old. He became skilled at a variety of talents, including drums, banjo and ukulele, and for a while, he toured as a drummer with various jazz bands. Sellers was also an expert mimic, which he put to excellent use during his service as an airman with the Royal Air Force during World War II. He frequently impersonated his superior officers as a way to gain access into the Officers’ Mess, and made them part of his performances with the Entertainments National Service Association, which put on plays and skits for British troops. His knack for mimicry also served him well in the years after his discharge in 1948. Sellers supported himself by performing stand-up comedy and celebrity impressions on the variety theater circuit, and at one point, secured a meeting with BBC producer Roy Speer by pretending to be radio star Kenneth Horne. The ruse clearly worked, as the 23-year-old Sellers was soon granted an audition, which lead to a role on the popular radio comedy “Ray’s a Laugh,” starring comedian Ted Ray. Audiences had their first glimpse of Sellers’ astonishing voice talent on the series, which allowed him to play everything from an obnoxious little boy to a bizarre older woman.

During this period, Sellers was also performing in an informal group with comics Spike Milligan and Michael Bentine and singer Harry Secombe. The quartet, who dubbed themselves the Goons, recorded their antics at a local pub, and the tape made its way into the hands of a BBC producer, who granted the quartet their own radio series. “The Goon Show” premiered in 1951 and became a massive hit with British audiences, thanks to its surreal humor which parodied traditional radio drama with absurd leaps in logic. Each episode was filled with countless bizarre characters, many of which were voiced by Sellers, including the program’s chief villain, Hercules Grytpype-Thynne; the hapless scoutmaster Bluebottle; the cowardly, flatulent Major Bloodnok (who was based on many of Sellers’ superior officers), and many others. On more than one occasion, Sellers was called upon to voice all of Milligan’s characters as well, and at times, carry out complete conversations between two or more people.

The popularity of the Goons’ radio program led to a few abortive attempts at television series, including “The Idiot Weekly, Price 2d” (ITV, 1956), but most filmed efforts were unable to match the stream of consciousness that comprised their recorded efforts. More successful were the Goons’ comedy LPs and novelty songs, as well as a quartet of films – the feature length “Let’s Go Crazy” (1951), which marked Sellers’ screen debut, “Penny Points to Paradise” (1951), “Down Among the Z Men” (1952), and the shorts “The Case of the Mukkinese Battle Horn” (1956) and “The Running Jumping & Standing Still Film” (1959). The latter, directed by Sellers and Richard Lester, was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Live Action Short, and also served as the impetus for the Beatles – all dedicated Goons fans – to hire Lester to direct “A Hard Day’s Night” (1964). The Goons were also acknowledged influences on the members of Monty Python’s Flying Circus, Eddie Izzard, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy author Douglas Adams, Peter Cook, the Firesign Theater and countless British and American television comedies.

In 1954, Sellers began branching out on his own as a supporting player in feature comedies. He quickly established himself as versatile a performer on screen as he was over the radio airwaves, with richly varied characters in some of the greatest British comedies of the late 1950s and early 1960s. He was the nervous Teddy Boy that joined Alec Guinness’s inept criminal crew in Alexander Mackendrick’s “The Ladykillers” (1955), an obsequious game show host in “The Naked Truth” (1957), a baffled military officer in Val Guest’s “Up the Creek” (1958), and most impressively, three roles in “The Mouse That Roared” (1959), including the addled Duchess of the tiny European nation of Fenwick, which declares war on – and defeats – the United States. Several of these pictures were international successes, especially in America, which brought Sellers to the attention of Hollywood. In 1958, he made his stateside debut in “tom thumb” (1958), fantasy director George Pal’s musical adaptation of the Brothers Grimm fairy tale about a tiny hero who outwits a pair of thieves (Sellers and Terry-Thomas).

Sellers’ stature as a film star grew in the 1960s, thanks to several key films. “Never Let Go” (1960) was a thriller that afforded him a rare opportunity to play a straight role as a murderous car dealer, while “I’m All Right Jack” (1959) proved he could bring pathos to his comic roles. His turn as a Communist shop steward who becomes a reluctant strike leader in the latter film earned him a BAFTA for Best Actor in 1959. However, it was Stanley Kubrick’s controversial adaptation of “Lolita” (1962) that made him an international star. His protean nature was given full reign as Clare Quilty, the decadent playwright who attempts to lure Sue Lyon’s teenage Lolita into his depraved world, prompting his murder by Humbert Humbert (James Mason). Kubrick’s version expanded the role considerably, allowing Sellers to don several disguises and accents throughout, including a Germanic doctor, Zempf, who foreshadowed Sellers’ turn as Dr. Strangelove two years later. For his efforts, Sellers was critically acclaimed, as well as a Golden Globe nominee for Best Supporting Actor.

In 1963, Sellers made his first appearance in his most iconic role – that of Chief Inspector Jacques Clouseau in “The Pink Panther.” Fiercely dedicated to fighting crime and upholding the dignity of France, Clouseau is also wildly accident-prone, egotistical to a fault and burdened with an impenetrable accent that transformed English into a wholly unknown language. A supporting character in “Panther,” which was intended as a comic caper series devoted to star David Niven’s gentleman jewel thief, it was Sellers that captured audiences’ attention, and led to a long and tumultuous series of films. The second in the series, “A Shot in the Dark” (1964), followed a year later with Clouseau now the central character. It too was a success, but the relationship between Sellers and director Blake Edwards deteriorated to such a degree that the pair refused to work together again until 1968’s “The Party.” A third Clouseau film, “Inspector Clouseau” (1968), continued the franchise with Alan Arkin in the title role, but it was not a success, prompting MGM to urge Sellers and Edwards to patch up their differences and return to the series for 1975’s “Return of the Pink Panther.”

Clashes such as the one with Edwards were not uncommon for Sellers during his career. In both Europe and America, he soon developed a reputation as a difficult performer, prone to lashing out at castmates over perceived slights. His personal life was also marked by moments of astonishingly casual cruelty towards his spouses and children. His first marriage, to Anne Howe, ended in a difficult divorce that may have been prompted by an affair with actress Sophia Loren; his second marriage, to actress Britt Ekland, was marked by domestic violence spurred by allegations of infidelity. Biographers surmised that Sellers suffered from depression and anxiety over his career, which he often viewed as a failure. Further evidence of his troubled psyche was glimpsed in interviews that asked him about his penchant for disappearing into his characters. His response was that there was no “Peter Sellers,” but rather, a blank slate that adapted to the needs of the role.

The greatest example of the extent to which Sellers could immerse himself into a role was perhaps Kubrick’s “Dr. Strangelove, Or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Bomb” (1964). The black comedy, about a series of political blunders which lead to World War III, allowed Sellers to play several roles: U.S. President Merkin Muffley, British officer Lionel Mandrake, and the sinister Dr. Strangelove, a wheelchair-bound nuclear scientist whose crippled body seemed hellbent on betraying his Fascist past. Sellers was initially asked to also play Major T.J. “King” Kong, the U.S. Air Force officer who rides the bomb bronco-style as it descends on the Soviet Union, but an injury forced Sellers to abandon the role, which was given to veteran Western performer Slim Pickens. Sellers found both the humor and the horror of the characters in his performances, which received an Oscar nomination, and seemed to indicate that he could move into dramatic roles – his abiding wish. However, he suffered a string of debilitating heart attacks – 13 over the course of a few days – that curtailed his availability. Desperate to return to work, he sought the aid of psychic healers for his condition, which would continue to deteriorate over the next two decades. He also threw himself headlong into film work, which varied, often wildly, in quality.

Sellers longed to play romantic roles, such as his singing matador in “The Bobo” (1967), but audiences responded more to his buffoonish turns, like the accident-prone Indian actor in Edwards’ “The Party” (1968) or the Italian jewel thief who poses as a film director in order to smuggle gold out of Europe in the Neil Simon-penned “After the Fox” (1966). He attempted to play James Bond in the all-star vanity project “Casino Royale” (1967), but abandoned the film after clashing with co-star Orson Welles and, allegedly, realizing that the film was in fact, a comedy and not a straight action piece. The end of the decade, which saw him diving into the counterculture with “I Love You, Alice B. Toklas!” (1968) and “The Magic Christian” (1969), which co-starred his close friend, Beatle Ringo Starr, also marked the conclusion of his lengthy tenure as a movie star for some years.

The first half of the 1970s was a period of deep personal and public failure for Sellers. His marriage to Eklund had ended on an explosive note in 1968, and his 1970 marriage to Australian model Miranda Quarry followed suit in 1974. His film career was in total freefall; pictures like “There’s a Girl in My Soup” (1970), “Ghost in the Noonday Sun” (1973), which reunited him with Spike Milligan, and “The Great McGonagall” (1974), were box office disasters. Sellers’ health also continued its downward spiral due to his reluctance to treat his condition with Western medicine, and a growing dependence on alcohol and drugs. The spell of bad luck broke in 1974 with the fourth “Pink Panther” film, “Return of the Pink Panther,” which reunited him with Blake Edwards once again. The result was a colossal hit for Sellers, and a career revival that lasted for the remainder of his life.

However, Sellers was mentally and physically unprepared for the rush of attention and work that came in the wake of “Return.” His relationship with Edwards had crumbled. By the time they began the rushed sequel to “Return,” 1976’s “The Pink Panther Strikes Again,” Sellers was unable to perform many of his own physical gags, and Edwards would later describe his emotional state at the time as “certifiable.” “Strikes Again,” however, was another hit, with Golden Globe nominations for the film and its star, who began working in earnest on several films. “Murder By Death” (1976) was an all-star parody of detective films, with Sellers playing a short-tempered version of Charlie Chan, while “The Prisoner of Zenda” (1978) was a lukewarm adaptation of the familiar Anthony Hope novel about a commoner (Sellers) recruited to impersonate his look-alike, the king (also Sellers) of a tiny European country. Sellers, however, had his attention fixed elsewhere.

For several years, he had worked in earnest to secure the film rights to Jerzy Kosinski’s novel Being There, about a simple gardener who becomes the confidante to the rich and powerful. The project went before cameras in 1979, with Sellers giving one of his richest performances in a role that seemed tailor-made for him – a man with no discernible personality, yet the ability to fascinate and inspire so many around him. The film was a critical and audience success, and won Sellers a Golden Globe and an Oscar nomination. The validation and acclaim, however, would be short lived.

Sellers had suffered another punishing heart attack in 1977, which required him to be fitted for a pacemaker. Though he had resisted having heart surgery for years, he finally relented, and in 1980, was slated to undergo an operation in Los Angeles. Just days before the surgery, Sellers suffered a massive heart attack which sent him into a coma. He died two days later on July 24, 1980, just one day before a scheduled reunion dinner with his Goon Show partners, Spike Milligan and Harry Secombe. He was survived by his fourth wife, actress Lynne Frederick, and his three children. At his funeral, the Glenn Miller song “In the Mood” was played for mourners. It was a fitting touch for a man who reveled in the darker side of humor; the song was reportedly one that the 54-year-old Sellers had long hated.

While the Hollywood community mourned his premature loss, the anarchy that swirled around Sellers continued to broil after his death. In 1979, Blake Edwards shocked many by releasing “Revenge of the Pink Panther,” which featured Sellers in outtakes from several of the previous films. It was roundly panned, but did not dissuade him from cobbling together another Clouseau movie, “Trail of the Pink Panther” (1982), from outtakes. Sellers’ final film, a dismal comedy called “The Fiendish Plot of Fu Manchu,” which he also co-directed, was released in 1980. Edwards would continue to labor over the Pink Panther franchise for two more films – “Curse of the Pink Panther” (1983), with Ted Wass as a Clouseau-esque policeman, and “Son of the Pink Panther” (1993), with Roberto Begnini as Clouseau’s illegitimate offspring – both of which were disastrous failures. Sellers’ estate was also the source of considerable dismay for his family members.  .

 The above
Janette Scott
72 Janette Scott
Janette Scott

Janette Scott. TCM Overview

Janette Scott (born 14 December 1938) is an English actress. She was born in MorecambeLancashire.

She is the daughter of actors Jimmy Scott and Thora Hird. She started her acting career as a child actress known as Janette Scott, and was briefly (along with Jennifer Gay) one of the so-called “Children’s Announcers” providing continuity links for the BBC‘s children’s TV programmes from the Lime Grove Studios in the early 1950s.

She became a popular leading lady, one of her best known roles being April Smith in the 1960 film School for Scoundrels, based on the “One-upmanship” books by Stephen Potter, in which Ian Carmichael and Terry-Thomas 

competed for her attention. Scott wrote her autobiography at the age of 14.

Her film appearances include The Day of the Triffids; her appearance there is referenced in The Rocky Horror Picture Show:.

TCM Overview:

Sabrina
Sabrina
Sabrina

Sabrina obituary in “The Independent” in 2017.

Cheshire teenager Norma Sykes came to London in 1953, determined to become a successful model. Before long her image was on the cover of Blighty, a men’s magazine that offered cartoons and short fiction, along with its photographs of scantily clad women.

Liverpool comedian Arthur Askey invited her into BBC television series Before Your Very Eyes. The “dumb blonde” was a cliché of 1950s popular culture and Askey decided that Sykes would be the literal personification of this stereotype. In June 1954 Askey was ending a run of the farce The Love Match at the Palace Theatre in London, where the next attraction would be the Broadway hit Sabrina Fair – this inspired Sykes to ditch the name Norma. On 18 February 1955, billed as the “a glamorous new playmate for Big-Hearted Arthur”, Sykes shimmered into the Britain’s living rooms to become an overnight sensation. Within a month she had accumulated more than 500 press cuttings.

English actress and glamour model Sabrina (Norma Ann Sykes) wearing lurex trousers and a tight sweater, circa 1957. (Photo by Silver Screen Collection/Getty Images)

She invested her BBC salary in elocution and singing lessons, while a variety tour was arranged to meet the overwhelming demand to see “television’s newest personality” in the flesh. Monday 4 July at the Chiswick Empire should have been “independence from Askey” day for her, but her inexperience showed. Four changes of costume – pink, blue, black, silver – ensured that she was seen to advantage but when it came to singing “Do It Again” she was inaudible.

Nevertheless, business was solid at the provincial theatres where she appeared. In Manchester the emergency services were summoned to control the crowds. That October, cinemagoers were introduced to Sabrina, film actress, in Stock Car. Playing Trixie, the decorative companion of a minor villain, this was a chance for her voice to be heard, literally. However, before the picture was released her character was revoiced in a coarse East End accent that was not her own.

Sabrina returned to Before Your Very Eyes, where she continued to distract male guests like bodybuilder Joe Robinson, and she was also seen to effect as the hostess in Hughie Green’s quiz show Double Your Money. In March 1956, Askey invited her to his daughter Anthea’s wedding. When Sabrina emerged from her taxi, a dozen photographers zoomed in on the famous cleavage, temporarily ignoring star guests like Norman Wisdom.

Between 1956 and 1958 the cinema newsreels and press cameramen followed Sabrina around as she judged beauty contests, posed with exotic birds, visited disabled people, attended film premieres and negotiated the London streets in her enormous American saloon with the S 41 personalised number plate. After Stock Car there had been occasional gag shots in comedies like Blue Murder at St Trinian’s, and in Make Mine A Million, Askey’s 1959 spoof of the BBC, she looked absolutely gorgeous, revealing – in her one proper dialogue scene – a light, attractive voice. But if there was to be no film stardom, her face and figure were nonetheless known to everyone in Britain.

An extensive portfolio of “cheesecake” photographic sessions generally depicted Sabrina taking her ease in basque and negligee. Nudity was not necessary: it was enough for her 18in waist to contrast with her spectacular bosom. This decorous level of titillation was as suitable for mainstream journals like Photoplay and Picturegoer as it was for the pocket-sized booklets like Spick and Span available from certain newsagents. Fans with 8mm projectors could obtain short colour movies for private viewing. The short film At Home With Sabrina exposed her daily routine, which apparently included hoovering and some light gardening with a trowel, after which she relaxed in swimsuit and sunglassses. Goodnight With Sabrina concentrated on her disrobing for a bubble bath, the soapy froth covering her modesty, before retiring to bed.

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From the start, comedians had only to mention Sabrina to raise a laugh: she was immortalised on canvas, parodied in the West End revue For Amusement Only, a Sabrina bar and grill opened in Wardour Street, and a samba incorporating her name was composed by the bandleader at the Orchid Ballroom, Purley.

In late 1956 she made a record herself: “Persuade Me” was put across with a breathless intimacy guaranteed to arouse the interest of the male population. Hollywood tough guy Steve Cochran was Sabrina’s regular escort during this period, and for a while the couple appeared inseparable, whether holidaying on the French Riviera or enjoying a romantic rendezvous in Santa Monica.

In late 1957 Sabrina made another stage foray, in a Robert Nesbitt revue at the Prince of Wales theatre. Plaisirs de Paris starring Dickie Henderson. Sabrina played gamely enough in the comedy interludes (for a sketch entitled “Are You Fully Covered?” she was aptly cast as “the Risk” opposite Henderson as “the Insurance Broker”), and genuinely dazzled as Helen of Troy in “The Realms of Venus”, one of the extravagant  chorus numbers. When this show was presented at the Tivoli in Sydney the following year, she was promoted to leading lady. Australian reactions to “the talk of two hemispheres” – as the theatre’s programme described her – were enthusiastic. Before a polar expedition sailed from Melbourne for the Antarctic, one of the amphibious craft was named after her; then she travelled north to a thousand-acre sheep station, to model dresses from the local wool.

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Sabrina entered America in late 1958, making her debut with a 40-minute cabaret act in Manhattan’s Latin Quarter, and subsequently toured most of the United States. In 1961 she was invited to feature “as herself ” in Satan In High Heels, a sexploitation melodrama involving junkies, burlesque dancers, murder and seduction, but her participation was mainly confined to a night club sequence in which she performed a couple of blues numbers.

In 1964 there was a last professional appearance on British television. ABC’s network arts programme Tempo had, in order to analyse the genre, commissioned an original farce entitled You Mitre Guessed. The standard ingredients of unworldly vicar, deaf housekeeper, suspicious policeman and inconvenient blonde were assembled, with Sabrina primarily required to scamper around in a diaphanous night-dress and sit on laps.

From 1965 she was based on the West Coast, and in late summer of 1966 was on the legitimate theatre stage in a Los Angeles production of  the West End success Rattle of a Simple Man – essentially a play for two actors concerning the unexpected rapport between a Soho prostitute and her girl-shy client. For once, Sabrina was taken seriously.

In 1967 there were a couple more film assignments: a Z-grade western shot in Mexico, The Phantom Gunslinger, starring opposite Troy Donahue; and Mountains of the Moon, a double-episode adventure in Ron Ely’s Tarzan television series. As this latter aired in November, Norma Sykes married wealthy Hollywood gynaecologist Dr Harold Melsheimer, and set up home in a Spanish-style villa at West Toluca Lake, Encino, California.

Showbusiness receded into the background, although her husband’s professional standing in Hollywood maintained her in a life of luxury. Ten years later they divorced, leaving Sabrina with a spacious Los Angeles residence in the million-dollar price bracket, and her own Mercedes. She died of blood poisoning last year aged 80, but her death was only announced until this month.

Sabrina (Norma Ann Sykes), model and TV personality, born 1936, died 24 November 2016

Cyril Young died in 2013

Norman Rosssington
Norman Rossington
Norman Rossington
 

Norman Rossington was a gifted character actor who was born in 1928 in Liverpool.   He has the distinction of having featured in “Help” in 1965 with The Beatles and in 1967 in “Double Trouble” with Elvis Presley which he made in Hollywood.   He also made “Tobruk” in the U,S.   He played Albert Finney’s loyal friend in “Saturday Night and Sunday Morning”.   He died in 1999.

Tom Vallance’s obituary in “The Independent”:

USUALLY PLAYING a cheerful, down-to-earth, if slightly suspect working-class lad, the comic actor Norman Rossington was a veteran of dozens of films and television shows, though his face was more familiar than his name (“It’s more important for me to be recognised in my profession,” he once said).

The stocky, curly-haired actor first achieved prominence as one of the motley bunch of idle privates in ITV’s The Army Game, and went on to feature in three “Carry Ons” and such movies as A Night to Remember and Lawrence of Arabia. A master of working-class accents from cockney to his native Liverpudlian, he spent much of his career portraying servicemen of the lower ranks, but also appeared with the Old Vic, the National Theatre (with Laurence Olivier) and the Royal Shakespeare Company, and only last year was on the West End stage playing the father of Belle, the beauty of Beauty and the Beast. He could also claim to be the only actor to have appeared in films with both Elvis Presley and the Beatles.

The son of a publican, he was born in 1928 in Liverpool, and left school at 14 to work on the docks as a messenger boy. After becoming an apprentice carpenter, he studied French and building at night school and trained to be a draughtsman, but at 19 a visit to a church social with his friend Kenneth Cope (also later to become an actor) changed the course of his life.

He took part in a sketch just for fun, was invited to join the local drama group, and took to his new interest with such enthusiasm that he was soon training for the professional stage at the Bristol Old Vic, making his stage debut at the Theatre Royal in Bristol, where his work ranged from Shakespeare to the musical Salad Days. In 1954 he played Snout in a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream that toured America, and in 1955 made his screen debut with a small part in a weak vehicle for the comic Ronald Shiner, Keep It Clean. However, work was not consistent and for a time he worked as a chef in police station canteens.

He had his first major success with the television series The Army Game (1957), ITV’s biggest comedy hit in the early years of commercial television. This Bilko-like series featured a bunch of conniving and lazy soldiers, with Michael Medwin as their ringleader, William Hartnell their tough sergeant, and Rossington as Private “Cupcake” Cook, always eating and opening food parcels from his family in Liverpool. The show ran for five years and in 1959 Rossington and four other cast members performed a shortened version of it before the Queen Mother at the Royal Variety Show.

In 1958 The Army Game was filmed as I Only Arsked, the title coming from the catchphrase of the gormless “Popeye” (Bernard Bresslaw). In this box- office hit the group, initially dismayed when posted to the Middle East, find a secret passage to the king’s harem, put down a revolution and find an oil well. In the same year Rossington had a small role in Roy Baker’s fine account of the Titanic disaster A Night to Remember.

He was cast once again as an army recruit in the first of the “Carry On” series, Carry On Sergeant, getting laughs as a private who keeps failing to pass out. (Kenneth Williams, in his diaries, referred to Rossington as “a good fellow”.) He later featured in Carry On Nurse (1959) as Norm, constantly running errands up and down the corridor, and Carry On Regardless (1960) as the referee of a boxing match in which Charles Hawtrey is one of the contestants.

Norman Hudis, writer of those early “Carry Ons”, was to script several of the actor’s television series, including Our House (1960) which found Rossington part of an ill-assorted group of people (including Hattie Jacques, Joan Sims and Charles Hawtrey) who buy a ramshackle house. Other notable television appearances included parts in Johnny Speight’s controversial series about discrimination, Curry and Chips (1969), in which he was a bigoted shop steward, Dennis Potter’s six-part Casanova (1971), starring Frank Finlay, a striking portrayal of mid-19th century explorer Samuel Baker in The Search for the Nile (1971), and countless comedy shows with such stars as Beryl Reid, Bob Monkhouse and Spike Milligan.

On the cinema screen he was the stolid chum of rebellious Albert Finney in Karel Reisz’s key film of the British “New Wave”, Saturday Night and Sunday Morning (1960), and was in the military again for two 1962 epics, The Longest Day and Lawrence of Arabia. He had one of his best-remembered roles in the first and best of the films starring the Beatles, Richard Lester’s A Hard Day’s Night (1964), in which as Norm, the group’s manager, he provided a gentle parody of Brian Epstein.

Two years later he appeared with the decade’s other pop sensation Elvis Presley in Double Trouble. One of Presley’s poorest films, it featured Rossington and Chips Rafferty as two inept crooks who switch suitcases with Presley and his girlfriend. He journeyed to Hollywood for this, and for the war film Tobruk (1966) with Rock Hudson, but turned down offers that would have kept him there. He had one of his favourite roles as Sergeant- Major Corbett in The Charge of the Light Brigade (1968), and more recent films included The Krays (1990) and Let Him Have It (1991).

Rossington’s stage work included Brecht on Brecht with Lotte Lenya at the Royal Court, Shaw’s Saint Joan with Olivier’s embryo National Theatre company at Chichester in 1963, and the role of Doolittle in a revival of the musical My Fair Lady. He convincingly switched to an American accent for two musical roles – as the gambler Nathan Detroit in the National Theatre revival of Guys and Dolls (1985) with Lulu as his long-suffering sweetheart Adelaide, and as the circus promoter Charlie Davenport in the 1992 revival of Annie Get Your Gun.

In 1997 he sang again in the spectacular musical Beauty and the Beast, but had to leave the show last November after a fall on stage which preceded a six-month battle with cancer.

Norman Rossington, actor: born Liverpool 24 December 1928; twice married; died Manchester 21 May 1999.

The above “Independent” obituary can be also accessed online here.

ry Brumburgh’s entry:

Spade-jawed British character actor Norman Rossington was born in Liverpool, so it shouldn’t be considered THAT ironic that he would end up appearing in The Beatles‘ debut film smash, A Hard Day’s Night (1964), as “Norm”, the Fab Four’s chagrined road manager. The son of a publican, he never finished high school, leaving at age 14 and living a rather wanderlust adolescent life as messenger, office boy, carpenter apprentice, etc. Later, he went to night school and studied industrial design in order to become a draughtsman. Interest in acting happened by accident and, eventually, Rossington joined a local theatre group. He trained seriously at the Bristol Old Vic and began appearing in both straight plays (“A Midsummer Night’s Dream”) and musicals (“Salad Days”) by the mid-50s. Within a few years, he had extended his visability to films and TV, setting up his rather bumbling persona as “Private Cupcake” on the TV comedy series, The Army Game (1957). Along with roles in a few of the zany “Carry On…” slapstick films, Rossington established himself firmly as a comedy performer with I Only Arsked! (1958),Crooks Anonymous (1962) and Nurse on Wheels (1963), representing a few of his farcical credits. Yet his finest creation was arguably in the “kitchen sink” drama, Saturday Night and Sunday Morning (1960), as Albert Finney‘s sensible, down-to-earth, blue-collar pal. Though he never attained outright stardom, Rossington became a reliable, familiar mug with minor roles in such epic British and U.S. films as Saint Joan (1957), The Longest Day(1962), Lawrence of Arabia (1962), Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines or How I Flew from London to Paris in 25 hours 11 minutes (1965), The Charge of the Light Brigade (1968) and Young Winston (1972), not to mention the equally epic TV miniseries, I, Claudius (1976) and Masada (1981). Rossington’s greatest impression would lie in musical theatre, especially in his later career. Such spirited roles in “Peter Pan” (as “Starkey”), “My Fair Lady” (as “Alfred Doolittle”), “Annie Get Your Gun” (as “Charlie Davenport”), “Pickwick: The Musical” (as “Tony Weller”), “Guys and Dolls” (as “Nathan Detroit”) and, lastly, as Beauty’s father in “Beauty and the Beast”, made him an endearing favorite in the West End. Cancer claimed him at age 70 in 1999.

– IMDb Mini Biography By: Gary Brumburgh / gr-home@pacbell.net

Dave Allen
Dave Allen
Dave Allen

Dave Allen was a brilliant Irish comedian who achieved great success in Britain.   He was born Tynan O’Mahoney in Dublin in 1936.   His father was the editor of “The Irish Times”.   He also had a successful stage career. In 1972 he starred in The Royal Court‘s production of Edna O’Brien‘s play A Pagan Place, and appeared as both Mr Darling and Captain Hook in the London Coliseum‘s production of Peter Pan.In 1979 he played a troubled property man suffering a mid-life crisis in Alan Bennett‘s television play One Fine Day.   He died in 2005.

Stephen Dixon’s “Guardian” obituary:

At the height of his career, Dave Allen, who has died aged 68, was Britain’s most controversial comedian, regularly provoking outrage and indignation in a society that got upset more often – and more easily – than it does today. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, he introduced a laid-back, satirical, personal, storytelling style, first in Australia, and later on British television shows, such as Tonight With Dave Allen and the hugely successful Dave Allen At Large, with a mixture of elaborate sketches and intimate, sit-down comedy.Behind the calm facade, as he paused to sip his whiskey, or flick cigarette ash off his immaculate suit, he was quietly, humorously furious about political hypocrisy, the church domination of Ireland, and, in fact, all forms of authoritarianism. His stance, at its best wholly uncompromising, made him a godfather of comedy, and won him the admiration of a later generation of stand-ups.

Allen was a little like the reporter he once wanted to be; he simply told people about funny things he had seen or experienced, adding the spin of a natural storyteller. “I don’t know if there’s somebody out there, some god of comedy, dropping out little bits saying, ‘Here, use that, that’s for you, that’s to keep you going,'” he said in 1998.

He scandalised countless people in the 1970s with a sketch which involved the Pope doing a striptease; he was banned from Australian television for a year after telling his producer on air to go and masturbate, and leave him to continue an interview instead of going to the advertisements; he upset Mary Whitehouse in 1984 with an account of a post-coital conversation; his use of the word “lavatory” on the Ed Sullivan Show in the 1960s was objected to; and the BBC apologised when, in 1990, he used the word “fuck” in the punchline to a joke – an incident which provoked questions in the Commons.

He explained why it was necessary, in a routine about employees living their lives by the clock – and then being presented with one when they retired – to use the word: “It’s a disdainful word, because it’s not a damn clock, it’s not a silly clock, it’s not a doo-doo clock. It’s a fucking clock!”

Sometimes, Allen just sat there and told straight gags, and sometimes they were sexist, and sometimes they smacked a bit of paddywhackery. It would be rewriting history to pretend that his material consisted entirely of insightful, observational monologues about life.

But it must be remembered that when he started on TV, Arthur Askey was still a big name, Benny Hill and Dick Emery were stars and Jimmy Tarbuck was “youth comedy”. To an extent, Allen had to play by established rules; what was groundbreaking about him was that there were rules he chose to ignore.

He had wonderful timing. You can tell great technical stand-ups when they deliver the punchline just when you think they’re going to do something else. And there’s another one, just when you think they’ve finished. He was paid large amounts of money to attack institutions in a subtle and subversive way. He, and the slightly later Billy Connolly, traded in alternative comedy long before that phrase was coined – observational stories laced with satire, or very long versions of old jokes in which he would digress into lots of comedy byways.

“The hierarchy of everything in my life has always bothered me,” Allen said in 1998. “I’m bothered by power. People, whoever they might be, whether it’s the government, or the policeman in the uniform, or the man on the door – they still irk me a bit. From school, from the first nun that belted me.

‘People used to think of the nice sweet little ladies … they used to knock the fuck out of you, in the most cruel way that they could. They’d find bits of your body that were vulnerable to intense pain – grabbing you by the ear, or by the nose, and lift you, and say ‘Don’t cry!’ It’s very hard not to cry. I mean, not from emotion, but pain. The priests were the same. And I sit and watch politicians with great cynicism, total cynicism.”

For his 1970s BBC shows, Allen often impersonated a priest; another scenario had him facing a firing squad in some banana republic, delaying his execution with increasingly preposterous last requests. He also had a successful stint compering ITV’s Sunday Night At The London Palladium. His interest in journalism re-emerged in documentaries, shot in Britain and the United States, in which he sought out oddballs and eccentrics. And then there was the West End stage – “In case you wonder what I do,” he would tell the audience, “I tend to stroll around and chat. I’d be grateful if you’d refrain from doing the same.”

In the 1980s, Allen made several shows for Carlton Television, minus his trademark cigarette. “I just realised it was crazy spending so much money on killing myself. It would have been cheaper to hire the Jackal to do the job.”

After the early 1990s, he retreated from the limelight, partly due to ill health, but occasionally released videos of earlier material; one such opened with him saying he had retired, but that every so often he had to do a bit of work to keep himself in the style to which he had become accustomed – “a bit of an Irish retirement, actually”. As he grew older, he brought a rueful awareness of ageing to his material, with reflections on the antics of teenagers and the sagging skin and sprouting facial hair of age. He won a lifetime award from the British Comedy Awards in 1996.

Allen was born David Tynan O’Mahony, the youngest of three boys, into a reasonably prosperous Dublin family. His grandmother, Norah Tynan, was the first women’s features editor on the Freeman’s Journal; his aunt, Katherine (KT) Tynan, was a poet. His father, Cullen “Pussy” O’Mahony, who died when David was 12, was the general manager of the Irish Times, the paper on which his brother Peter later worked as a journalist.

Pussy was also a drinking partner of Brian O’Nolan (Flann O’Brien/Myles na Copaleen), then an Irish Times columnist, and Allen recalled that his father threw big birthday parties on new year’s eve, which the boys would watch from the stairs.

Although his father was an agnostic, Allen was brought up as a Roman Catholic, the faith to which his English mother had converted from Anglicanism. His early religious upbringing, in an era dominated by state and church control, influenced the direction his material took later on.

Newspapers were in the family, and in those days, said Allen, “you didn’t go off and make a career for yourself. You tended to take up what the family did.” So he started work as a clerk at the Irish Independent, and, after a short period on the Drogheda Argus, moved to London. But journalism was not a runner and, after a variety of factory jobs, and a stint at Butlin’s, a career in entertainment beckoned.

It was Sophie Tucker, the American vaudeville star and “Last of the Red Hot Mommas”, who spotted Allen’s potential when he played a minor role in her London show in the early 1960s. She suggested he try his luck in Australia, and there he first hit the TV big time.

In Sydney, he worked with opera singer Helen Traubel, another woman who profoundly influenced his career. She suggested he replace the corny one-liners with material based on the reality of his youth. Thus was born a style that made the public, and a generation of comics then in its infancy, think a little differently about humour, about the power of words, about authority, and about the world around them.

Allen’s first marriage to actor Judith Stott ended in divorce. He is survived by his wife Karin, and three chidren from his first marriage.

· David Tynan O’Mahony (Dave Allen), comedian, born July 6 1936; died March 10 2005

The above “Guardian” obituary can be accessed also online here.

Gary Cockrell
Gary Cockrell
Gary Cockrell

American born Gary Cockrell originally trained as a dancer and choreographer before turning to acting. He had studied with Matt Maddox in New York and had danced in several Broadway productions before joining the cast of West Side Story. The play was first performed at the Winter Garden in New York in 1957 before transferring to London’s West End in 1958. Gary moved to London, with the production, which took place at Her Majesty’s Theatre, and lived there throughout the 1960’s and 1970’s. He left West Side Story to play the leading acting role in Tennessee Williams Orpheus Descending at both the Royal Court Theatre and the Mermaid Theatre. Following this, he starred in a production of The Golden Touch  at the Piccadilly Theatre and performed in the musical Carnival at the Lyric Theatre in Shafetsbury Avenue.

Although he was based in London, he worked as an actor on both sides of the Atlantic. In Britain, he had a leading role in the television series The Corridor People and guest-starred in series such as The Saint, Danger Man and The Persuaders. He had a supporting role in Stanley Kubick’s controversial film Lolita and appeared in Gonks Go Beat!. In America, he played opposite Steve McQueen in the film The War Lovers and had small roles in The Americanisation of Emily, The Bedford Incident and Man in the Middle. He acted on television in Wagon Train and Route 66.

 He left the UK to live in St. Lucia in the West Indies, where he opened a hotel. Today, Gary is retired and lives in St. Lucia with his wife, Marie.

James Roache
James Roach
James Roache
 

is the son of actor William Roach and has appeared in “Coronation Street”.   He was born in 1985.

James Roache was born on December 29, 1985 in England as William James Roache. He is an actor, known for Coronation Street (1960), The Road to Coronation Street (2010) and The Marchioness Disaster (2007).   Son of William Roache and Sara Roache. Half-brother of Linus Roache and Vanya Roache. Brother of Verity and the late Edwina.   He played his father William Roache in The Road to Coronation Street (2010).