Alec Guinness Talking Pictures

Alec Guinness was known as an acting chameleon,

capable of adapting himself to any part.

It was in reputation he won after playing a huge range of roles

in some of the best British films ever made.

Ealing comedies like Lavender Hill Mob and Kind Hearts And Coronets,

and a run of classics directed by David Lean,

including Great Expectations,

Oliver Twist, Lawrence Of Arabia,

and The Bridge On The River Kwai,

for which he won the Best Actor Oscar in 1957.

And, two years after that, he was knighted

and became Sir Alec Guinness.

It was quite a rise.

And we join him here, in 1973, talking to Tony Bilbow,

on the Film Extra programme, about how it all started.

I wonder if we could go right back, Sir Alec, to your childhood.

Your parents weren't actors. What did your father do?

Well, my father, I never knew.

I mean, he was out of my life when I was a baby.

But he was a bank manager.

No connection with the theatre at all.

And I really lived on my own

since I was about 14 or something like that, on and off.

So, at what point did you realise that you had to be an actor?

I don't know. I mean, hindsight is very clever.

I consciously knew I wanted to be an actor

by the time I was 16, that's for sure.

If I look back now, I think I always was an actor

from the age of five or six or something.

I was always in dormitories at school telling stories.

They'd all fallen fast asleep but I went on telling, you know,

night-time stories and acting them out madly in my bed in the dark.

You had no idea why?

I suppose... I think it's a great mistake to...

I would never go to a psychoanalyst to sort this out for me.

I don't want to know why.

I guess, kind of lonelinesses, and insecurity,

and insecurity of personality and character,

and therefore latching on to make-believe, and pretending.

For me, acting is just "let's pretend". It still is.

You have to apply, or you learn certain skills,

and then they become too much and you have to try and abandon them.

But it is "let's pretend",

and I think anything that goes much beyond that

becomes pretentious rubbish.

I don't want them to delve into pop psychology

but are you, as a generality, happier when you are acting

than doing anything else?

I'm happier when I'm rehearsing,

because then all antennae are out, particularly in the theatre,

because the rehearsal period then lasts a month, roughly.

Film rehearsals, of course, are inclined to be

very off-the-cuff and swift.

But, even then, it seems to me I am at my most alive,

both in trying to find a character, in the general situation,

what the whole thing is about,

and an alertness as to where one is, and what one's doing.

Once the acting job has started,

it's, I suppose in a way, like an office job.

There's one of the periods in your life

when I imagine you didn't feel particularly alive

-was when you left school and went into an advertising agency.

-Oh, yes.

-You were a copywriter, weren't you?

-I was a copywriter,

then they took me off that, very kindly, and made me a layout man.

I was disastrous at that. They put me back to copywriting.

-What did you have to write?

-I wrote...

boring little ads for Rose's lime juice, one time.

Wilkinson's razor blades.

Philips lamps.

Mullard radio...

Everything about which I knew nothing.

Did you come up with any original slogans?

Oh, no, me? No. For heaven's sake, no, no.

I was in offices when original slogans came up.

I had made very good friends, they were sweet to me there...

But I earned a pound a week, 30 bob a week by the time I left.

-Were you worth it?

-No! I cost them a lot of money!

The Daily Mail appeared one morning with a vast, empty space

which is where my ad should have been!

What happened then? You decided advertising was not for you?

I was always wanting to be an actor, it was a question of how.

I didn't know any actors, I didn't know how one started.

And, while I was at the advertising agency,

I got on to Martita Hunt who became a very great friend of mine,

because I thought I would try and get into the Royal Academy.

And I had no money.

And so this meant trying to get a scholarship.

And so I went to her for hour lessons on my voice,

and this, that and the other.

I don't think she taught me a thing about anything there

but she taught me a lot about life.

I mean, she formed my taste in many ways, which was far more valuable.

And when I arrived at the appointed time at the Royal Academy,

I was met by a lady who said,

"What a good thing you haven't come down from Scotland,

"we're not giving any more scholarships this year."

So I was left with egg on my face, to a degree, and near tears.

And I ran into a girl whom I used to know as a child,

within minutes, and wept on her shoulder.

And she said, "You'd better run down Baker Street

"to the Fay Compton studio where they are holding auditions this minute."

And I dashed there, and I was just in time and I got the scholarship.

You eventually joined John Gielgud's company.

And then you joined the Old Vic in 1936.

But your film career really started in 1946

with Great Expectations, didn't it?

That's right, yes.

The first film I'd done, apart from appearing for one day

when I was a student, walking on...an extra, in Evensong.

And I swore I would never, ever do that again.

The way they were treated... Oh!

-What do you mean, the extras?

-Yes. And I thought, no, that's not for me.

And I thought, I will never go into films until,

if I'm going to be offered something in films,

it must be something I've already played in the theatre.

And it so happened that I'd done a stage adaptation

of Great Expectations in which I'd also appeared.

-It was Herbert Pocket, wasn't it?

-That's right, yes.

And David Lean and Ronald Neame had seen that and remembered it.

And then they decided to do the film and they also remembered me

and, as the war was coming to its close, they...

Well, it had finished, actually, they contacted me.

And that was the start of working in films.

But, even with that success, it's odd, it seems to me,

that you managed to land the part of Fagin in Oliver Twist,

because, after all, you were still quite young

and, in theory, for you to play Fagin was ridiculous.

That's the only time I've ever gone out after a part.

I absolutely was determined to play that.

And David Lean was wonderful. I mean, he listened.

My thing to him was, at the time,

when I heard they were going to do Oliver Twist,

"You'd never think of casting me as Fagin."

And he said, "Not in a thousand years."

And I said, "That's where you are wrong.

"Because you people in films are only interested in types,

"you're not interested in anyone actually trying to act."

And I think he was a bit startled, and didn't agree.

And he said, "Well, I'll give you a test." So, a test was arranged.

And I got it.

Mind you, your interpretation of the part

caused a little trouble, I think, in America.

They were a bit touchy about it, weren't they?

Yes, the Russians were touchy about it in central Europe,

because they were determined that it should be called anti-Semitic.

The word "Jew" was never mentioned in it,

because there was no question of it being anti-Semitic.

As indeed Dickens was accused of being anti-Semitic, which he hadn't,

and then he went and wrote another novel to make a sympathetic...

I mean, I maintain that the character could have been a Jew, Arab or nothing.

In the '60s, your film output slowed down.

You did a lot of stage work,

Ross, Exit The King, Macbeth, Dylan on Broadway.

Do you think of yourself, first and foremost, as a man of the theatre?

I think of myself as an actor, yes, I'm sure.

But I started in the theatre. My early years were the theatre.

And, funnily enough, I've nearly always,

with the exception I think of one year

when I did maybe two or two-and-a-half films in,

I have always managed to do something in the theatre,

because it's very good, I find, to tackle

or come face-to-face with a live audience.

And I also wanted to keep my...

Many actors who go into films have been in the stage,

and the long years go by,

and then they get a chance to go into theatre again

and they become petrified at facing an audience

and shy away from it and get very frightened.

And I was determined that that shouldn't happen to me.

And, on the whole, I am happier in the theatre,

not from any other reason than in the theatre you are your own boss.

If something has to be cut, a scene has to go off,

your lines or a speech or something,

then you can mould your performance around that gap.

Or if something extra goes in, whatever the case may be.

Whereas, acting for the films, which has its other delights,

if something goes, you cannot adjust your performance

if it's snipped at the end.

I've seen performances of myself on the screen

in which the end has been put at the beginning, and vice versa.

And, if I knew that had been going to happen,

I would have performed differently throughout.

And so I feel I'm not my own boss when filming,

whereas I am in the theatre.

Four years later, Guinness's latest film had, to his surprise,

just become one of the biggest box office hits of all time - Star Wars.

It meant an appearance on Parkinson

where the conversation opened with an examination

of his whole approach to the art of acting.

How would you go about, it's a thing that always fascinates me

when I talk to actors, particularly great actors,

about how you build a part, about what comes first

in building up a character, this sort of thing.

I always find, too, by the way,

that actors don't like being asked this question very much.

And I can tell by your face that you're not savouring it either.

No... Well, I don't know.

I don't know how one...

Obviously one's imagination

and what the author has presented one on a script are vitally important.

If I get stuck... Actually, that Lavender Hill Mob part,

we've just seen that, I based on two things.

I went to the zoo and in the rodent house, in the small rodents,

I saw some little, round-eyed, nervousy little character,

rather sort of fluffy.

And I thought, maybe that's... Maybe something on those lines.

And then I realised that a bank clerk at my bank looked very much like it.

LAUGHTER

So I settled on the bank clerk's voice.

Two clips, both with no Rs, I'm playing in, with Fagan and that.

So that was very much a bit of observation, and tilted up, no end.

But, when I have got stuck, I have very often gone to the zoo

-and see if some animal would give me some clue.

-Really? Why the zoo?

Well, the only place where you can find strange animals around!

RIPPLE OF LAUGHTER

When I did Richard III in Canada, I'd spent a lot of time,

I searched around, I thought, an eagle, maybe?

And, no, I'm not really a kind of an eagle type.

And then I found a creature called the unsociable vulture.

LAUGHTER

I used to visit it, oh, every two or three days,

it got to know me, he was very kind of full of...

RIPPLE OF LAUGHTER

Quite a sociable chap, actually!

LAUGHTER

What were you getting from the unsociable vulture, Sir Alec,

that you could possibly use on stage?

Oh, some, I don't know what, some, something little,

a little something at the back of my mind,

or indeed maybe a walk or a mannerism or something like that.

I mean, could you demonstrate, say,

a notion you had once had with a bird or something,

to show me exactly what you mean?

Well, I think I first got the idea

that animals might be helpful in my possession before the war

in the Cairo Zoo - I was on tour playing Hamlet.

And there was a bird there called a shoebill.

-Is it all right if I stand up?

-Sure.

Because I don't think I can do this any more.

It stands about that high, and it's grey, very soberly pale grey.

And it doesn't like being watched, that appealed to me no end.

It likes to watch other people.

And it has a very, very big beak,

rather like a shape of some enormous shoe, great, big, grey thing there

and a little eye up there.

And I first spotted it,

it was standing on one foot with a kind of little tail out.

I can barely stand up like that...

And kind of eyeing one.

And I noticed that whenever I turned away, it moved.

But it would never move while I was watching it.

You have to sort of pretend,

every time I say, "now", you have to turn away and look back.

So, he was standing looking at me, one would say, "now",

you turn away. You turn back, and one leg would be...

LAUGHTER

One would say, "now".

LAUGHTER

And, "now". He'd turn the other way.

LAUGHTER

APPLAUSE

So, how did you use that in the part of Hamlet?

Oh, I didn't play Hamlet like that!

I did have a disastrous Hamlet later on,

but it wasn't through doing a bird!

It gave me the idea that maybe I would get some sort of amusing

kind of movement or something from it. I'm very devoted to animals.

-You are?

-Yes, indeed. I love watching them. In Ceylon later...

-May I tell a little animal story?

-Please, do. Please, do.

I loved the elephants one saw around.

And one afternoon, I went down to watch a lot of elephants working,

pushing great tree trunks down into the river,

which was a very fast river.

And all the elephants except one,

rolled these big trees down into the river

with that part of their nose.

Kind of pushing and rolling very successfully,

very skilfully and very soberly.

They'd push, and the tree would get into the water

and, gradually, get shifted away by the current.

But there was one enormous rogue elephant there,

with a chain around his tummy

which meant that he'd probably killed someone.

He was a very wise, huge, old fellow.

Um...

He had great big, floppy ears going round.

And, he didn't do this at all.

He pushed it as if it was a pencil.

He kind of got his nose and pushed it the difficult way towards the water.

And I thought, "Why?" Then one or people said, "Watch that elephant."

And some of the film crew were going, "Oh, silly old so-and-so.

"Why doesn't he just roll it like the others so it goes down?"

And it was as if he heard them. Because he, um...

He was very, very slow in all his movements,

the way he kind of came and pushed this huge tree.

And the little eye took us all in.

And he thinks, "You think I'm a fool, don't you?"

And he very, very slowly,

moved, left it,

moved round and as he just got back,

he gave us all a tiny, wicked look,

and flipped it with his back foot into the river.

APPLAUSE

-What a lovely story!

-I adored the elephant.

You were telling me earlier,

that you had a parrot once that you tried to teach how to act?

Oh, I didn't teach it how to act. It was a splendid actor!

I tried to teach it a Hamlet soliloquy. We didn't get very far.

He was a South African grey.

I was very fond of him. He's dead now, alas, poor old thing.

He's gone to a feathered world elsewhere, about four years ago.

But he used to get as far as...

Sorry, I didn't teach him the accent or the tone,

I did it quite straight.

But he finally used to say,

"O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I?

"Is it not monstrous that this parrot - yah-yah-yah!"

LAUGHTER

-Was this a pet?

-Oh, yes, indeed, yes. Yes, indeed.

What kind of pets do you keep?

After my time in Ceylon, when I was doing Bridge On The River Kwai,

I took to tropical birds for a bit, for a few years.

I haven't got them now, because there were always tragedies

when I was away and I couldn't bear it any more.

At the moment, I've only got two dogs, and a cat and three goats.

-Three goats?

-Yes.

-You mention watching and observing animals,

And you've got the idea for a walk from an animal.

In fact, you've been on record as saying

that you only get start getting into a part when you get a walk.

-Is that right?

-Yes, I think so.

I don't sort of feel happy

until I'm doing it from the ground upwards, so to speak.

This used to be very self-consciously done when I was a student.

It really came because I had no money to spend.

I could allow myself sixpence a week, and there was no entertainment.

I used to spend that sixpence a week on going to the gallery at the Old Vic.

The rest of the time was following people in the street.

You know? Surreptitiously, of course.

And, I used to follow people, and watch their walks.

And I felt I got to know something about them.

-And I used to imitate their walks behind them.

-Really?

And I began to feel, at least I know the mood that they're in

or what their ailments are, or whatever it might be.

And that kind of got rather stuck.

I don't do it now, I don't...

I very seldom nowadays,

out of laziness,

consciously observe what someone's doing.

I've lived on that store for many years,

I should store again, I suppose.

I suppose when you're in a part, you draw something from the back of your mind

that you observed some time ago, the way somebody moved or something?

I think it's got to become - for me, anyway -

it's got to become unconscious again.

There was a time when I used consciously think,

"I remember seeing that man do that."

As probably I did in The Lavender Hill Mob film.

But it's best if you've forgotten and comes up again

and you don't know where it's come from.

What about that famous walk in River Kwai, you mentioned the film,

when you'd been put in that awful isolation thing,

You had that extraordinary staggering, lurching walk

across the parade ground when they let you go.

-Where did that come from?

-Well, that's a very personal one.

But it's true, because it shows the very funny process

that goes on with an actor, maybe.

My son had polio when he was about 12

and was paralysed from the waist down.

He's fine now, he plays rugger

and rushes around and does whatever he wants.

But when he was recovering...

Um, walking again a bit,

it was obviously a very stiff, strange walk.

And I had a little cine-camera,

and I remember when he was first walking, taking shots of this.

And then when one saw on the screen,

my wife and I persuaded ourselves that he was fine,

he was walking fine. But, obviously, deep down inside, one thought,

"Oh, God, he's going to limp for life," or something of that nature.

And, years later, when it came to doing that scene on The River Kwai,

I found myself doing the identical walk

that I had on that little cine-camera from five, six years previously.

I'd entirely forgotten. I didn't know I was doing it.

It was only when I saw myself on the screen, I thought,

"Where on Earth did that curious,

"slightly lurchy, bent walk come from?"

-It was the same as I have on the cine-camera.

-Quite extraordinary.

What about the great film stars that you've met

in your long career in the movies?

Who were the ones that you remember most vividly?

That's difficult, "most vividly", they've all been fairly vivid!

HE CHUCKLES

One's met a great number.

When I first went to Hollywood...

An unlikely story, but true.

There was a party at the... whatever the hotel was...

It was the Beverly Hills Hotel, I think. Enormous party.

I hadn't been asked, and it was being given by John Wayne.

And he suddenly heard that I was in the hotel and very kindly,

about midnight phoned up and said,

"Come on down, put on a black tie and come on down."

So, I was thrilled and went down to this great gathering.

And it was the first time I met Betty Bacall who I was very chummy with,

and I was talking to her and she was ravishing and marvellous,

when a well-known Hollywood agent came up and dragged her and said,

"You mustn't be seen talkin' to that limey, come on."

And I was so furious,

I've only clocked anyone ever in my life and I clocked him.

LAUGHTER

And I flew out in a rage.

Back up, ripped off my black tie,

back into bed, and you know, crossly done.

Ashamed of myself, but also very angry with this chap,

and the phone went again, and it was John Wayne again saying,

"Come on down again, you got to make it up."

So, down I went,

on with the black tie again,

and thought, "I'll behave very well."

And by then, it had become something of a scandal

and a lot of people had gathered around.

And he said, "I want you to shake hands with this man."

He's dead now.

HE CHUCKLES

Not through my blow!

LAUGHTER

And so we solemnly shook hands again,

rather coldly, but solemnly.

And there was a lot of applause for that whereupon I clocked him again!

LAUGHTER

So, while shaking hands, you pulled him...?

It was something he said again,

I don't know what it was, but it drove me mad.

HE CHUCKLES

But John Wayne was marvellous about it. He was very comforting.

From someone, I got a huge box of cigars the next day, I don't know who it was.

Probably everybody in the room had been wanting to do what you did!

I think that was what was behind it.

You also met Dean, didn't you? James Dean.

My very first night in Hollywood, I met James Dean.

It was a very, very odd occurrence.

I'd arrived off the plane, they took a long time in those days,

about 16 hours' flight.

And, um... I'd been met by Grace Kelly, and various people,

but I found that I was alone for myself for the evening.

A woman I knew phoned up and said, "Let me take you out to dinner,"

And we went to various places and she was wearing trousers

and they wouldn't let her in any of the smart Hollywood restaurants.

That was in 1952, '54, something like that.

However, we finally went to a little Italian dive

and that was full, so one got turned away.

I said, "I honestly don't mind just a hamburger anyway."

I was hungry by then.

Then I heard feet running down the street and it was James Dean.

He said, "I was in that restaurant and you couldn't get a table.

"My name's James Dean." He said, "Will you come and join me?"

So, we said, yes, very kind of him.

Then, going back into the restaurant, he said, "Before we go in,

"I must show you something. I've just got a new car."

And, there the courtyard of this little restaurant was a...

I don't know what the car was, some little silver, very smart thing,

all done up in cellophane with a bunch of roses tied to its bonnet.

And I said, "How fast can you drive in this?"

And he said, "I can do 150 in it." And I said, "Have you driven it?"

He said, "No, I've never been in it at all."

And some strange thing came over me, some almost different voice,

and I said, "I won't join your table unless you want me to,

"but I must say something.

"Please, do not get into that car, because if you do..."

And I looked at my watch. I said, "If you get into that car at all,

"it's now Thursday," whatever the date was, ten o'clock at night.

"And by ten o'clock at night, next Thursday, you'll be dead,

"if you get into that car." It was nonsense.

So, one had dinner, we had a charming dinner.

And he was dead the following Thursday afternoon, in that car.

-Extraordinary.

-It was one of those odd things.

-Has that ever happened to you before?

-No, I'm glad to say.

It was a very, very odd, spooky experience.

I liked him very much, I would love to have known him more.

Let's talk about the latest aspect of your career?

Which is quite extraordinary.

All these years in movies, and all of a sudden, you've hit the jackpot

with a thing called Star Wars which I saw last week.

I think it's super, it's marvellous escapism. It'll clean up.

How did you come to be involved with a piece of science fiction like that?

It arrived as a script.

I was just finishing a picture in Hollywood with another day to go.

The script arrived on my dressing table,

and I heard that it had been delivered by George Lucas.

And I thought, "That's rather impressive."

Because he's an up-and-coming, very respected young director.

And then when I opened it and found a science fiction,

I thought, "Oh, crumbs! This is simply not for me."

And then, I started reading it.

It seemed to me the dialogue was pretty ropey,

but I had to go on turning the page.

That's an essential in any script.

You've got to know what happens next, or what's going to be said next.

And I went on reading and I thought, "No, I like this.

"If only we can get some of the dialogue altered."

And then I met him, we got on very well,

and I found myself doing it, that's all.

-It's made more money than any other movie ever made.

-So I'm told. Yes.

And you got yourself part of the action? 2.5%, isn't it?

-No, no, not quite that.

-What is it?

LAUGHTER

Sir Alec, how much is it?

Well, you want that story?

I tried to keep this dark, I don't know where this all sprang from!

I think it was the Evening Standard to blame for this.

I had a contract.

My agent said, "I've asked for 2% of whatever..."

because we didn't think it would make any... I've never had...

I've had a percentage on a film before,

and they lose money like mad if I have a percentage.

I said, "Oh, fine. All right, 2%."

And the day before the film opened in San Francisco,

George Lucas phoned me and said...

He's like Alan Bennett, he's very diffident and very shy and quiet,

and he has a funny little voice.

And he said, "I think the movie is kind of going to be all right."

I said, "I'm glad, George." He said, "The press quite like it."

I said, "Good." He said, "We're pleased with...

"We're very grateful for the little alterations you suggested,

"and so we'd like to offer you another half percent."

Thereby making it two and a half.

I said, "All right, that's marvellous. Thank you very much."

And a matter of a few weeks later, in fact, the day I saw the film,

I've just seen it the once.

The producer, who again is a charming, delightful chap, I said,

"About this little extra something you were kindly offering,

"I wonder if we could have something in writing,

"just so that my agent and so on believes this.

And he said, "Oh, about the quarter percent, yes!"

LAUGHTER

No fool they!

So it's 2.25%.

All right, let's then have a look at Star Wars. There's a clip here.

I couldn't begin to precis or lead up to this clip.

Don't ask me either!

If you don't know, nobody does.

But anyway, you play a sort of guru figure. Here you are.

I have something here for you.

R2-D2 CHIRPS

Your father wanted you to have this when you were old enough.

But your uncle wouldn't allow it.

He feared you might follow old Obi-Wan

on some damn, fool idealistic crusade, like your father did.

Sir, if you'll not be needing me,

-I'll close down for a while.

-Sure, go ahead.

-What is it?

-Your father's lightsaber.

This is the weapon of a Jedi Knight.

Not as clumsy or random as a blaster.

An elegant weapon...

for a more...civilised age.

For over 1,000 generations, the Jedi Knights

were the guardians of peace and justice of the Old Republic.

Before the dark times, before the Empire.

How did my father die?

A young Jedi named Darth Vader,

who was a pupil of mine until he turned to evil,

helped the Empire hunt down and destroy the Jedi Knights.

He betrayed and murdered your father.

Now, the Jedi are all but extinct.

Vader was seduced by the dark side of the Force.

The Force?

The Force is what gives a Jedi his powers.

It's an energy field created by all living things.

It surrounds us and penetrates us, it binds the galaxy together.

R2-D2 CHIRPS

APPLAUSE

You said you saw the film. What's the fascination to you, do you think?

-I think a marvellous, healthy innocence.

-Yes.

Great pace, wonderful to look at,

full of guts. Nothing unpleasant.

I mean, people go, bang-bang, and people fall over and are dead.

But no horrors, no sleazy sex.

In fact, no sex at all, if it comes to that.

And a sort of wonderful freshness about it. Like a wonderful fresh air.

When I came out in the cinema into Tottenham Court Road, I thought,

"Oh, God, London is sort of gritty and dirty and full of rubbish."

-This had all been so invigorating.

-That's absolutely right, actually.

It's one of the films I've come out of recently

where I've felt happy and uplifted when I came out. I enjoyed myself.

That's all. People are going to read too much into it.

It's simple stuff for all ages. It's great fun.

-Are they doing that now with you?

-Doing what?

Reading more into it? The guru figure you portray.

I get pretty strange letters, I don't mind telling you!

-I can imagine, actually.

-Oh, no, surely.

"My wife and I have got problems,

"would you come over and live with us for a few months?"

LAUGHTER

Yes, you could have yourself a fine time!

LAUGHTER

The success of Star Wars meant Guinness never had to work again.

And he grew increasingly selective about the roles he accepted.

He won huge praise for his portrayal of George Smiley

in the BBC series Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy and Smiley's People.

He also started writing

what became an acclaimed series of autobiographies.

And then, in 1988,

he was nominated for an Oscar for another Dickens role.

A six-hour version of Little Dorrit

that he discussed in this interview with Barry Norman.

Sir Alec, were you in any way daunted,

when you were asked to play Dorrit,

to learn that the film was going to run for six hours?

I thought it was an absolutely astonishing, foolhardy job.

I'm not daunted from my own point of view, but I thought,

"How the heck are they going to do a film

"which is in two parts, for that amount of time?"

But they've brought it off.

What about the character of Dorrit that you play?

Presumably, you don't just take a part because it's offered to you.

There must be something there that attracted you to that role?

Well, flattered, first of all, to be asked to do it.

Then thought I'd better read the novel, which I've never done.

And there is a feckless, vain, silly, but kindly, man,

full of foolish schemes and a great folie de grandeur

when he comes out of prison.

I could see little shades of myself here and there in that, perhaps.

Anyway, I thought it was worth making a stab at.

What parts of yourself did you find in that list of adjectives,

none of which is terribly complimentary?

Um, oh...

Wrong decisions, stupidities,

sometimes thinking, "Things are going to turn out wonderfully well" when they're not.

Just not thinking things through.

See to my cuff, Amy, if you please?

How long you've been!

You're a good girl, you're a very good girl. My favourite child.

It's not very hot.

Were there any letters?

No, Father.

What am I to do if that letter doesn't come?

What am I to do? Fettered as I am!

Are you quite sure there were no letters?

Can't someone carry the hot water for you?

It's not heavy.

My daughter shouldn't be seen carrying hot water.

You watched that with a blank face.

Were you unimpressed or do you just not like seeing yourself on screen?

I don't like seeing myself on screen,

but I'm afraid under the blank face,

I had an admiration, not for myself, let me hasten to add, but for Dickens.

And the wonderful variety of thoughts you get through that.

The vanity, the petulance, the snobbism, the selfishness.

All there in every sentence.

Would it be true to say that the part, the film part,

that brought you first strongly to the public attention,

was again a Dickens? It was Oliver Twist in Fagin.

Now, I believe that you had fight very hard to get that role.

I don't know if I had to fight.

I approached David Lean, saying,

"I would love to play Fagin,"

and I was what, 34-35, something like that.

And he obviously thought it was a bit mad as an idea.

SLAMMING

Why are you awake?!

Speak up, boy, quick!

I couldn't sleep any longer, sir.

-What have you seen?!

-Nothing, sir.

You were not awake an hour ago.

-No, no, indeed, sir.

-Are you sure?

Yes, sir.

There, there, my dear.

I only tried to frighten you.

Did you see any of those pretty things, dear?

What you think of that one?

Howard Davies is splendid!

BOTH CHUCKLE

I don't know, it's a bit theatrical, isn't it?

After Kind Hearts And Coronets,

which came very soon after Oliver Twist,

you were given this name of "the man with 1,000 faces".

It took you a long time to live that down, didn't it?

That was a publicity stunt which has dogged me,

not all my life, but for so many years.

There is one further question I must ask you, Sir Alec.

You're wearing what looks like designer stubble, now,

I imagine you're not vying with Mickey Rourke for a part in a film. Could you explain?

No, this is kind of a week-old, or something like that.

It's got another couple of weeks to go before I go to Venezuela,

on location for Evelyn Waugh's A Handful Of Dust.

There's quite a nice tie-up, isn't there, between A Handful Of Dust

and the film we started discussing this evening, Little Dorrit.

Yes, it's pure coincidence.

But the last line that I have to say,

it's in Evelyn Waugh's novel, in A Handful Of Dust,

is to the young man who's reading Dickens to me,

I say, "Let us read Little Dorrit again."

Lovely from my point of you.

The following year, Guinness received a fellowship from BAFTA.

He carried on working occasionally into the 1990s

and died in West Sussex in the year 2000, aged 86.

The obituaries called him,

"The most versatile actor of the 20th century,"

and quoted his response when he was asked,

what would he be doing if he hadn't become an actor? His answer?

"I don't know what else I could do, but pretend to be an actor."

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