My top five:
1. The Souvenir: Part II
1. The Wooden Horse (Saturday, BBC2, 12.25pm)
In Robert Guédiguian’s The
Last Mitterrand (2005), a lightly fictionalised riff on actual events, Bouquet
played the former French president, coaxed by a journalist into addressing his Vichy
past. Bouquet’s rascally turn elevated a scholarly, slightly dry endeavour: Le
Monde noted the way the actor “slipped into [Mitterrand’s] coat, put on his
hat and, with astonishing charisma, composed a mischievous portrait… showing
how a sacred monster could consume the soul of another.”
That Bouquet was
unrecognisable from the octogenarian who returned to our screens, bearded and
fierce of gaze, as the subject of Gilles Bourdos’ Renoir (2012), testament
to the actor’s ability to disappear fully within the contours of a role. Nothing
unduly dramatic happens in this absorbing, visually rich study of
Pierre-Auguste Renoir in his Riviera dotage; Bourdos centred Bouquet’s finely-honed
ability to hold an audience’s attention through craft alone.
Both in and out of the
limelight, he was prone to self-effacement. He once described himself as “dull,
banal, a little flat”, adding “the roles flesh me out.” As an aspiring thesp, he
confessed to feeling too short (at 5’7”) for dramatic roles, and too serious-minded
by nature to play comedy effectively.
In her memoir Le roman
de ma vie, the actress Bernadette Lafont detailed how she once saw Bouquet
explode at a script supervisor who’d claimed actors were overpaid, insisting
“you have no idea what it means to carry the burden of a character who invades
your life and haunts you even at night”. Bouquet later apologised, blaming the outburst
on too much Burgundy. Nevertheless, he declared himself “too solitary for la
vie de troupe”, maintaining that acting is “a very lonely job, just like painting.
One does it in public, but the essence of it is secret”.
He was born Michel François
Pierre Bouquet on November 6, 1925 in the 14th arrondissement of
Paris, the youngest of four sons to winemaker Georges Bouquet and his milliner
wife Marie. A WW1 veteran, Bouquet Sr. was a distant figure, quietly haunted by
his wartime experiences. At seven, young Michel was dispatched to a Catholic
boarding school for what he called “seven years of darkness and loneliness”.
He hoped to study
medicine, but left school at 15 to support the family after Georges was held
prisoner in Pomerania. During the Occupation, he worked in a bakery and a bank;
following the Armistice, he juggled jobs as a warehouseman, dental technician
and delivery driver.
Spurred by Marie’s love
of the theatre, Michel signed up for acting classes, eventually studying at
CNSAD, the National Conservatory of Dramatic Arts. He made his stage debut
within six months, impressing Albert Camus, who invited the 19-year-old to play
Scipio in his 1945 production of Caligula.
Small film roles followed,
as an assassin in Criminal Brigade (1947) and a TB patient in the Jean
Anouilh-scripted Monsieur Vincent (1947), an Oscar winner for Best
Foreign Film. Yet the stage would be Bouquet’s primary home for the first
twenty years of his career: excelling in Molière – despite those concerns about
his comic chops – he also appeared in new work by Anouilh, Ionesco and Pinter.
An exceptional orator, he
was hired to narrate Alain Resnais’ 32-minute Holocaust memorial Night and
Fog (1955), from a script by Mauthausen survivor Jean Cayrol. But another
decade passed before Chabrol thought to cast him, first in the undistinguished An
Orchid for the Tiger (1965) and The Road to Corinth (1967). The
Unfaithful Wife was the pair’s standout collaboration, in large part due to
Bouquet’s psychologically shaded turn as a cuckolded husband-turned-murderer.
Thereafter, he became a
familiar arthouse face, often in supporting roles: as the detective in
Truffaut’s Mississippi Mermaid (1969), a Mob lawyer in Belmondo-Delon
actioner Borsalino (1970), one of many oddbods in the Belgian curio Malpertuis
(1971). On TV, he was Javert in Robert Hossain’s acclaimed Les Misérables
(1982), Mozart’s father in Mozart (1982) and Scrooge in A Christmas
Carol (1984), for which he won the French equivalent of an Emmy.
The awards kept coming.
He won a European Film Award for his role as the despairing older Toto in Toto
the Hero (1991) and his first Molière award – French theatre’s highest accolade
– at 73 for playing a rowdy pensioner in Bertrand Blier’s Les Côtelettes
(1998). A second followed in 2005, for playing King Bérenger – a role he would
play 800 times in total – in Ionesco’s Exit the King.
By the millennium, he was
more in demand – and more revered – than ever. He won his first César – the
French Oscar – as the father in Anne Fontaine’s melodrama How I Killed My
Father (2001); he earned a second for playing Mitterrand, and was nominated
for Renoir. He received the Legion d’Honneur in 2007, and the Grand-Croix
in 2018.
A perfectionist, he
stopped directing after his revival of Shaw’s Heartbreak House
(co-directed with his first wife Ariane Borg) flopped in the 1950s. But he
remained an influential teacher, penning multiple texts (and a memoir, Mémoire
d’acteur, in 2001). His students included Fabrice Luchini, Anne Brochet and
Maria de Medeiros.
He initially retired from
the stage in 2011, but was drawn back by several choice roles, claiming at one
point he was “never going to stop”. As late as 2018, it was announced that
Bouquet would be appearing as Albert Einstein in Le cas Edouard Einstein,
about the relationship between the scientist and his schizophrenic son. Yet
tired by the preparations, he withdrew from the cast and made his retirement
official, insisting “I had done everything I could”.
He is survived by his
second wife, the actress Juliette Carré, who played Queen Marguerite to his King
Bérenger in Exit the King.
Michel Bouquet, born November 6, 1925, died April 13, 2022.
Yet experience gave his work
a grounded, lived-in quality to which audiences warmed. His specialty was
grizzled, frowning, blue-collar types, men’s-men who peered at the modern world
through sceptical eyes, but who invariably had the goods to save the day as the
final credits neared.
Ironically, in his
breakthrough role – Virgil “Gus” Grissom in Philip Kaufman’s stirring astronaut
saga The Right Stuff (1983) – Ward was seen to come up short in the
heroism stakes, which drew criticism from Grissom’s real-life NASA contemporaries.
(Wally Schirra described the film’s Grissom as “a bungling sort of coward”.)
Yet the crumpled machismo Ward evoked outside his spacesuit formed its own
tribute to those left behind as the space-race heated up.
By complete contrast,
there was Tremors (1990), a likable, enduring monster movie about a
small Nevadan town (called Perfection) that finds itself undermined by giant
killer worms. Kevin Bacon took top billing, but his joshing, affectionate
relationship with Ward as fellow handyman Earl Bassett gave the film its heart.
Upon learning of Ward’s passing, Bacon paid his co-star the fondest of
farewells: “When it came to battling underground worms, I couldn’t have asked
for a better partner.”
He was born Freddie Joe
Ward on December 30, 1942 in San Diego, California to Fred Frazier Ward and his
wife Juanita (née Flemister). It was an itinerant childhood: after his
mother’s death, the teenage Fred was sent to live with an aunt in New Orleans.
He served in the Air Force, during which he boxed at amateur level – breaking
his nose four times – and eventually had a revelation about the life he wanted
to lead.
“I was going [out] with a
stripper in San Antonio, hanging out with some bizarre fringe people who
considered themselves ‘show people’, including this 250-pound transvestite who
designed costumes for strip joints, and a few gangsters… They weren’t role
models in a strict sense, more like the old freaks in the freak show. When I
was younger, I always felt like an outsider, and they said it was all right to
be ‘the other’. They had a nice little society, a little culture, and they
dealt with life.”
He headed for New York, studying
acting at the Herbert Berghof Studio, while supporting himself with janitorial
and construction jobs. Six months later, Ward departed for Europe, drawn by the
new opportunities available to American performers. In Rome, he dubbed
spaghetti Westerns into English before landing minor roles in Roberto
Rossellini’s miniseries The Age of the Medici (1973) and Cartesius
(1974).
Upon returning to the US,
Ward dabbled in experimental theatre before landing more typical work as a
trucker in hitchhiking drama Ginger in the Morning (1974). One-off
episodes of Quincy (in 1978) and The Incredible Hulk (in 1979)
followed before his first significant role as John Anglin, one of Clint
Eastwood’s fellow escapees in Escape from Alcatraz (1979).
He met a sticky end in
Walter Hill’s taut Southern Comfort (1981) and was often cast in tough,
meaty, dramatic roles: The Right Stuff, Silkwood (1983), Uncommon
Valour (1983), a suavely brutish club owner in Swing Shift (1984). But
several of his choices revealed a wry comic streak. Few fortysomethings would
have committed as hard as Ward did to Timerider (1982), a genuine curio
(co-written by Monkee Mike Nesmith) about a time-travelling biker.
He beat out the then-unknown
Bruce Willis to land the title role in Remo: Unarmed and Dangerous
(1985), the first of a planned trilogy of action films. But despite multiple
magazine covers positioning Ward as a new, blue-collar James Bond and a
memorable Statue of Liberty climax, the film nosedived commercially, recouping
only $14m of its $40m budget.
Tremors steadied him, however, and two other 1990 parts
demonstrated Ward’s range: careworn shamus Hoke Moseley in the blackly comic
thriller Miami Blues and Henry Miller in Kaufman’s elegant period love
triangle Henry & June, a role for which Ward shaved his head, adopted
blue contact lenses and gamely watched Uma Thurman and Maria de Medeiros compete
for his attentions.
One more notable lead
role followed, as P.I. Harry Philip Lovecraft in made-for-cable horror-noir Cast
a Deadly Spell (1991). Thereafter, Ward resumed supporting gigs, boosting
the Robert Altman comeback (The Player, 1992; Short Cuts, 1994),
threatening to blow up the Oscars (in Naked Gun 33⅓, 1994), and even slotting between Brian
Conley and Christopher Biggins (dire Britpic Circus, 2000).
He paused acting in the
early Noughties, returning only for guest spots: on e.r. (2006-07) and True
Detective (2015), as Ronald Reagan in retro potboiler Farewell
(2009). Mostly, he devoted himself to painting, perhaps feeling the entertainment
landscape shifting beneath his feet. His final credit remains unseen: a cameo
in a Tremors spin-off, cancelled by the Syfy network before its 2017
pilot even aired.
In 1990, Ward was asked what
he found most compelling about Henry Miller: “People are burdened by their
futures, their jobs, their accumulating. Everyone says, ‘I wish I could do
that, just take off, experiment with life’… [Miller] was 40 when he took that
big leap. Most people are digging themselves deeper into their structures. He
was a man who knew he had to follow that inner urge, the creativity and the
passion. Or he would die bitter."
He is survived by his
third wife Marie-France Ward (née Boisselle) and a son, Django, by
second wife Silvia Ward; his first marriage, to Carla Stewart, lasted a year.
Fred Ward, born December 30, 1942, died May 8, 2022.