Harry Potter is a significant theme in our house.  The children were at the perfect age.  We read the books together at bed time, conducted intensely excited night-time forays to buy the later volumes at midnight publication, and we relished the films.  I am not ashamed to admit  – although perhaps I ought to be – that our house contains Harry Potter crockery, glassware, cross-stitch sampler and quite a lot of Lego.

As is obvious from these blogs, I also have a life-long love of good theatre, formed largely at Stratford, and – to my great joy – this is now shared to some extent at least by my family.

This means that the death of lovely Alan Rickman gave us pause.  He was the melancholy Jacques in a production of As You Like It at Stratford in 1985.  Juliet Stevenson was Rosalind and Fiona Shaw, Celia.  If memory serves me right, it was directed by Adrian Noble and it was rich, strange, unearthly.  The opening court scenes took place in an attic, furniture draped in wintery white sheets and a clock ticking – and stopping.  It was a deeply, profoundly, emotional production – a richness of melancholy as well as joy, revealing emotional truths about the characters which I’ve never seen matched.  Those characteristics – especially the mix and complexity of emotion – continued to be manifest in Alan Rickman’s acting.  He wrote about playing Jacques in Players of Shakespeare  and Scott Proudfit writes with wonderful vivid recollection about Alan in this role with the unsurpassable title “Sans Rickman, Sans Everything”.

On screen, he was hugely successful.  The early Truly, Madly, Deeply is a near-perfect (and cathartic) film with – characteristically – Alan part of an outstanding cast, generously supporting and participating in wonderful ensemble work.  All the time, even in something as gloriously daft as Galaxy Quest, he could bring a genuinely serious dignity to a part while simultaneously sending himself up something rotten.   He was perfect casting as Snape.

It is a truism that when one has seen an actor in several parts, over the years, they seem familiar. We think we know them.  We believe we can approach them (and we do.  For the record, he was totally charming at the stage door, after a very fine performance as Elyot in Private Lives.  It was to ask him to sign the children’s autograph books, honest).  We saw him more than once in a theatre audience (it is such a joy to spot actors in the audience – and to know that they are willing to spend their own time supporting, encouraging, learning from others’ performances).  It is now clear from the obituaries, that he was a lovely, engaging, caring, principled person.  Which makes it all the sadder.

It remains hard to accept that he has gone.  The other day, I did something truly daft.  We have part of our Lego Hogwarts Castle on permanent display (don’t say a word) and I noticed that Snape was not among the figures.  So I climbed into the attic, found the rest of the Lego, found Snape, brought him downstairs and placed him in the potions classroom where he belongs.  I just wish it were possible for someone to do the same and restore Alan Rickman to us, where he belongs.

From Truly Madly Deeply:
Jamie: Thank you for missing me
Nina: I have.  I – I do.